Let The Old Dreams Die Part 2

The weather had been unusually warm during the summer, and the autumn was taking its time to arrive.

In the middle of September he turned up again.

The feeling was just as powerful as it had been on the previous occasion. So powerful that there was an aura around him, a flas.h.i.+ng neon sign with the words HIDING SOMETHING.

She didn't even need to say anything. He walked straight to the counter and heaved up his suitcase, then linked his hands behind his back.

'h.e.l.lo again,' he said.

Tina made an effort to sound normal: 'I'm sorry? Do we know each other?'

'No,' said the man. 'But we have met.'

He waved one arm towards the suitcase in an inviting gesture. Tina couldn't help smiling. She waved her arm in turn, indicating that he should open the case.

He's treating the whole thing like a game, she thought. But this time I'm going to win.

'How was your summer?' he asked as she went through the case. She shook her head. He might be treating this like a game, and she might have thought about him now and again, but when it came down to it they were on opposite sides of the counter. He was trying to bring in something illicit, and she forced herself to think Drugs... drugs that will be sold to thirteen-year-old kids. The man in front of her was one of the bad guys, and she was going to break him.

The contents of the case were largely the same as before, except that the Mankell novels had been replaced by ke Edwardson. She picked up the insect hatching box and looked inside. Empty. She tapped on the base to check that there was no hidden s.p.a.ce. The man followed her movements with amused interest.

'Right,' she said when she had established that the case contained nothing more than the eye could see. 'I am convinced that you are hiding something, and this time I intend to have a more thorough search carried out. Could you come this way, please.'

The man didn't move. 'So you do remember,' he said.

'I have a vague recollection, yes.'

He held out his hand and said, 'Vore.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Vore. That's my name. What's yours?'

Tina met his gaze. His eyes were so deep set that hardly any light from the fluorescent tube on the ceiling reached them, and they looked like faintly reflective black mountain pools. Most people would probably be frightened by such a gaze. Not Tina.

'Tina,' she said dryly. 'This way, please.'

Since the search was of an intimate nature, Tina did not partic.i.p.ate. No ferries were due for some time, and while Robert carried out the external physical check she wandered around the entrance hall making bets with herself, fixing the odds on what might be found.

Drugs of some kind: two to one. Heroin: four to one. Amphetamines: eight to one. Something to do with spying: ten to one.

But the more she thought about it, the more the odds on spying shortened. He wasn't the type to smuggle drugs.

Vore's suitcase was still lying on the counter. She took out the two detective novels and flicked through them. No words were highlighted or underlined. She held the pages up to the light. Then she looked around and took out a lighter. Ran the small flame to and fro underneath a page to see if any invisible writing might appear. She singed the edge of the paper, but no writing emerged. She quickly put the book back in the case, its blackened edge glistening.

This is ridiculous. Kalle Blomqvist.

But what was it, then?

She walked between the pinball machines and the panorama windows and back again. Her job, her ability was something she simply took for granted. This was something completely new. The man spoke with no accent whatsoever. But Vore? What kind of a name was that? She supposed it must be Russian, Slavonic.

At any rate, if the external physical examination didn't produce any results, she would apply for a warrant allowing a doctor to carry out a proper search. Check every orifice.

Robert came out, made a comment to the occupant of the room, and closed the door behind him. Tina hurried over. Her heart sank when she was only halfway across the hall; Robert was shaking his head.

'Nothing?' she asked.

'No,' said Robert. 'Well, nothing that concerns us, anyway.'

'What do you mean?'

Robert drew her a little distance away from the door.

'Let me put it this way: you can rest easy. He did have something to hide, but nothing punishable by law. The problem is that we've now stopped him twice without...'

'Yes, yes. Do you think I don't know that? So what is it, then?'

The thought had struck her, but she hadn't seriously considered what Robert was suggesting: the fact that they might have been guilty of professional misconduct. Subjecting Vore to an examination on two separate occasions without any solid evidence for doing so. If Vore made a complaint, they would probably be reprimanded.

'The thing is,' said Robert, 'he's...he's a woman.'

'Come on, stop winding me up.'

Robert folded his arms and looked uncomfortable. With exaggerated clarity he said, 'He...or rather she, does not have a p.e.n.i.s but a v.a.g.i.n.a, to use the technical term. You should have carried out that search, not me.'

Tina stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds. 'You're not joking?'

'No. And it was rather...embarra.s.sing.' Robert looked so miserable that Tina burst out laughing. He looked at her, his expression furious.

'Sorry. Has he got...b.r.e.a.s.t.s as well?'

'No. He must have had an operation or something. I didn't actually ask. He's got like a big scar just above his b.u.m, by his tailbone. Whatever that might be. Now it's your turn to talk to him and try to explain that-'

'What did you say? A scar?'

'Yes. A scar. Here.' Robert pointed to the bottom of his back. 'If you want to take this any further, you can do it yourself.' He shook his head and headed off towards the cafeteria. Tina stayed where she was, looking at the closed door. When she had thought things through she opened it and went in.

Vore was standing by the window looking out. When she came in, he turned to face her. It was impossible to think of him as 'her'. If you wanted to define the repellent aspect of his appearance in a few words you could perhaps say: exaggerated masculinity. He looked too much like a man. The coa.r.s.e, broad face. The squat, muscular body. The beard and the powerful eyebrows.

'So,' he said, and now she noticed how unusually deep his voice was. Up to now she had taken it as a natural complement to his body. 'Are we done here?'

'Yes,' said Tina, sitting down at the desk. 'Could you spare a few moments?'

'Of course.'

He showed not the slight sign of being angry or offended on this occasion either. He sat down opposite her.

'First of all,' said Tina, 'I would like to offer my sincere apologies. Again. I must also inform you that you have every right to make a complaint against us. You can-'

'Why would I do that?'

'Because of the way we've treated you.'

'We can forget about that. What else did you want to say?'

'Well...' Tina's fingers began to twist themselves around each other under the desk, where he couldn't see them. '...I was just wondering. Who you are. This is purely...private.'

The man looked at her for such a long time that she had to lower her gaze. She shouldn't be doing this. To begin with, she was completely on the back foot after what had happened. A position she hated. In addition, it was against regulations to have any personal contact with those she was supposed to be investigating. She shook her head.

'Forgive me. You're free to go. We're done.'

'I'm in no hurry,' said Vore. 'Who am I? That's something I'm not too sure about, like most people I suppose. I travel. I stay somewhere for a while. Then I continue my journey.'

'And you study insects?'

'Among other things, yes. Although perhaps your question is mostly concerned with my...physical attributes?'

Tina shook her head. 'No. Not at all.'

'And what about you? Do you live locally?'

'Yes. In Gillberga.'

'I don't know it, unfortunately. But perhaps you know the ramblers' hostel here in...Riddersholm, I think it's called. Would you recommend it?'

'Absolutely. It's good. Beautiful surroundings. Are you thinking of staying there?'

'Yes. For a while, anyway. So we might see one another.' He stood up and held out his hand. 'Goodbye for now.'

She took his hand. His fingers were thick, strong. But so were hers. A strange excitement was growing in her stomach. She led the way to the door. As she stood there resting her fingers on the handle, she said, 'Otherwise I have a cottage that I rent out.'

'In...Gillberga?'

'Yes. There's a sign by the side of the road.'

Vore nodded. 'In that case I'll call round one day and...have a look. That would be nice.'

She stayed where she was, looking at him. The moment was exactly the same as last time. Perhaps it was a desire to pre-empt him, to regain control. Perhaps it was something else altogether. It was impossible to say, it was beyond everything she was capable of knowing or determining. She quickly leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

This time it was her lips that were p.r.i.c.ked by his sharp beard, and the moment they touched his skin a hammer of regret struck her on the forehead, making her jerk backwards.

She quickly opened the door, refusing to look him in the eye. He went out, picked up his suitcase and disappeared.

As soon as she was sure he had gone, she scurried off to the toilets, locked herself in a cubicle, sat down and hid her face in her hands.

Why did I do that how could I do that what's the matter with me?

Something had fallen apart inside her head. The mistake had made her confused. The ground had been s.n.a.t.c.hed away from beneath her feet, and she wasn't responsible for her actions.

What's the matter with me?

She rocked back and forth, whimpering to herself. What would he think of her? She! What would she think of her?

Why...why?

But somewhere she knew the answer. When she had calmed down and managed to stop her hands shaking, she got up and pulled down her trousers and her panties.

It was difficult to turn her head so far, it was just on the edge of her field of vision, but it was still clearly visible. It was years since she had last looked at it in a mirror: the big red scar just above her tailbone.

She rinsed her face and dried it with a paper towel.

There was a better reason why she had invited Vore to her home.

Robert could think what he liked, and the information about Vore's body was certainly a surprise, but she was still sure that wasn't it. She couldn't put her finger on how she knew, but she definitely knew.

Whatever he was hiding, it wasn't his own body. It was something else, and she had to find out what it was. Which meant that having him close by was the most sensible thing to do.

Wasn't it?

As Tina drove home from the harbour the sky was a dark grey lid covering the world, and the treetops swayed alongside the motorway. It didn't take an expert to realise that an autumn storm was on the way.

The first drops fell as she turned into the drive. During the short time it took her to walk up to the house they began to fall more heavily, and with a sudden squall the downpour was upon her. She ran the last few steps and pulled the door open.

The dog came racing towards her across the hall. She probably wouldn't have had time to react if she hadn't heard the patter of claws before she realised that the black ma.s.s of muscle was a dog.

Just as Roland yelled 'Tara!' from the kitchen she slammed the outside door and heard the dog crash into it with a thud that made the handle vibrate. The dog barked and scrabbled at the door, eager to get at her.

Use the handle, you stupid b.i.t.c.h.

She backed away from the door and ended up beyond the plastic roof covering the porch. The rain ran down the back of her neck. The door opened a fraction. Inside stood Roland, hanging on to the furious, barking dog with some difficulty while at the same time trying to plaster on a conciliatory smile. Above the noise of the dog he yelled, 'Sorry. Had to put some ointment on her, she's got an attack of mange on her-'

Tina stepped forward and slammed the door shut. She didn't need to know where the dog had mange. Through the door she could hear Tara being dragged across the floor, still barking.

The landscape beyond the porch was beginning to disappear. A grey veil covered everything and the noise of the rain was like a TV channel with nothing on it. White noise. The water splashed over the guttering, made a fan shape in the water b.u.t.t.

Between the dog and the rain she had a strip about two metres wide in which she could move, and she was sharing the s.p.a.ce with a box of old newspapers and a broken bilge pump. She picked up a copy of Dagens Nyheter, held it over her head and ran the hundred metres across to the cottage.

A thermostat ensured that the temperature in the cottage never dropped below twelve degrees. If a guest arrived it took no time at all to get the house pleasantly warm. As soon as she got inside she turned the radiator full on, took a towel out of the cupboard, dried her hair and sat down at the desk just in time to witness a scene she found remarkably upsetting.

The neighbours' sheets were pegged out on the line. They were flapping wildly in the growing storm, tugging at their moorings like fettered ghosts. Just as Tina sat down, Elisabet and Goran came out of the house. Elisabet's belly was so big by now that her body was an appendage to it rather than vice versa.

They ran across the garden in the pouring rain. If you could call what Elisabet was doing running. It was more of a fast waddle. For some reason they were in a really good mood, laughing as they tried to grab hold of the flailing sheets. Elisabet was slow and only managed to take down two, while Goran seized the other four and rolled them up into a big ball, which he stuffed under his jumper. It was impossible to say whether this was a practical measure to protect the sheets or a joke right from the start, but as he waddled off with his false belly, Elisabet laughed so much that Tina could hear her inside the cottage.

She spun her chair around so that she was facing into the room.

How silly can some people be?

They were like something out of Astrid Lindgren's Life on Seacrow Island, one of the scenes that was cut because even the director thought it was too nauseating.