Never End

28

Sara Helander was out walking through the warm evening. Two couples were sitting on the steps leading down to the canal, snuggled up close. The moon was reflected in the water, a band of gold. The outlines of surrounding buildings stood out sharply against the sky, like charcoal drawings. Scents wafted past her as she crossed over one of the harbor streets. A taxi glided slowly southward, its sign leaving a streak of light behind it. A lot of people were sitting at outdoor cafes. She could hear the sound of glasses and dishes and voices combining to form that special mixed language common to all outdoor cafes in all countries all around the world.

Cars came and went outside the entrance to the dance restaurant. It also had an outdoor area, but nobody danced there. There wasn't an empty table. She sat down at the bar and ordered mineral water with lime.

"May I treat you to that?" asked the man in the next chair. Her water was on the bar.

She declined with a smile and took a sip. Then another: she realized she was thirsty after driving into town and walking from the multistory parking lot.

The man looked at her. He was about her own age, thirty or so. Pretty good-looking. But she wasn't here for pleasure.

"Don't drink too quickly," he said. "It'll hit you afterward."

"It's mineral water," she said.

"It's the ice you have to watch out for-the cold upsetting your stomach."

"That's why I haven't got any."

"It shouldn't be too warm either," he said, with a smile. "It makes no difference what I say, does it?"

"No. If you'll excu-"

"OK, OK, I'll keep quiet." He smiled a third time, got the bartender's attention, and ordered another beer. He looked at her glass and she shook her head. "Sure?"

"I thought you were going to keep quiet." She took a drink. "Alright, another mineral water with lime. Cold but no ice."

"Shaken or stirred?" the man asked. The bartender was waiting with an amused smile.

Sara Helander looked toward the entrance. Johan Samic was there, talking to a couple who had just come in. She was exchanging pleasantries with the man at the bar, but wasn't neglecting her work. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to look as if she had company.

Samic contemplated his customers. People were lining up on the sidewalk outside. It was ten-fifty-five. A quartet started playing inside the restaurant. A proper old-fashioned smoochy number. The last thing I'm going to do is dance to that! she thought.

The man's beer arrived. The music suddenly grew louder.

"Do you dance?" he asked.

"No, I sit on chairs."

He took a sip of beer. Maybe he looked slightly embarrassed. You don't have to be so damned bitchy, Sara.

"It's not exactly my kind of music," she said.

"Not mine either." He took another drink. "I prefer rock."

She nodded.

"Oh, I've forgotten your drink," he said, picking up her glass, which she hadn't yet touched. He held it up. "Shaken or stirred?"

"Shaken," she said, as she watched Samic walk to the doorway, where he stood with his hands behind his back. The man next to her gave her glass a little shake and put it down again.

"Maybe I ought to introduce myself," he said, holding out his hand. "Martin Petren." She shook it, automatically and somewhat diffidently as Samic was walking among the tables, perhaps on his way out.

"What's your name?"

"Pardon… what?"

Samic had turned and was on his way in again.

"I just introduced myself."

"Er… yes, of course… S… Susanne Hellberg."

"Cheers, Susanne."

He raised his glass, and she thought she'd better do the same. He was pleasant and not unattractive. Maybe sometime when she wasn't on duty…

"Well, look who it isn't!"

She felt a hand on her shoulder and lost her hold on her glass which was halfway to her mouth. A hand shot out and grabbed it before it smashed onto the bar or the floor.

She hadn't seen Bergenhem arrive. That was skillfully done.

"Nice to see you," he said, still holding the glass. "This is a pleasant surprise." He wasn't smiling.

The man who'd introduced himself as Martin Petren had put down his glass and was getting to his feet.

"Aren't you going to pay?" Bergenhem asked.

"Wh… what?"

"Hold onto this but for God's sake don't drink it," said Bergenhem to Sara Helander, giving her the glass and leaning over the man who was about the same age as him. Everybody was thirty this enchanting evening.

"I saw what you did," said Bergenhem quietly. "I'm a police officer. I have my ID, you can be sure of that. I promise to show it to you later. We can leave here quietly and calmly and discuss this somewhere else. Maybe I'm making a mistake, but nobody is taking any chances. Nobody."

The man looked around.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he whispered.

"There's a tablet dissolved in that glass. I watched you drop it in. You might have more tablets in your pocket, or you might not. Shall we go?"

The man didn't move. Bergenhem bent farther down over him, spoke even more softly. "Shall we go?"

"Now look. What the he-"

"I'm going to stand up now, and you're going to do the same."

Sara Helander watched the men stand up. She hadn't heard everything Bergenhem had said, but she got the gist.

"Pay for both," said Bergenhem. "Then come out to your car, but take your time." He looked at the glass she was still holding in her hand. "Bring the glass with you. Don't drink out of it."

"I get it," she said softly. "Am I an idiot, or am I an idiot?" "Let's go, buddy," and they walked away, walked, like two friends, one with his arm round the other. Or two good-looking gays, Sara thought, as she paid and asked if she could take the glass with her if she paid for it. She wanted to go down to the canal to drink her water. The bartender shrugged and refused payment for the glass; she'd "already paid for it, really."

Bergenhem was waiting in the parking lot. It wasn't far.

"Who is he?" she asked.

"Give me the glass," said Bergenhem. He put it in a special holder and covered it.

"Where is that pig?"

"The uniforms took him straight in."

"Good Lord, are you sure about this, Lars?"

"Yes. But not of what it is. Hardly vitamins, in any case."

"GHB?"

"Probably. Or Rohypnol… we'll have to see."

"I'm not even fit to go around handing out parking tickets," she said.

"Now that's a dangerous job."

"You know what I'm saying, Lars. I've made an absolute mess of this job. I'm a triple idiot."

"On the contrary," said Bergenhem. "Between us, we've copped one of the dregs of society in the act of spreading his poison. We lured the swine into a trap and caught him red-handed."

She looked at Bergenhem.

"Is that what you're going to put in your report?"

"Of course."

"You're an angel, Lars."

"You can buy me a drink sometime."

"Whenever you like."

"Be careful about accepting drinks yourself, though."

"I'll nev-"

"We'd better be getting on with the job," said Bergenhem, tapping the glass. "I'll have to take this shit in."

"Do you really think I can go back there?"

"Nobody saw anything unusual."

"Are you absolutely sure?" "We're professionals, aren't we?" "Well, you are at least." "I said we. Get yourself back there."

It was the same bartender.

"How was the moonlight?"

"Beautiful."

"Another glass of mineral water?"

"Yes, please."

"Anything to eat?"

"Not at the moment."

Half an hour passed. More and more people arrived. Sara Helander stayed in the crowded bar, turning down drinks offers. A new bartender appeared. He didn't have time to favor his regulars.

She moved a bit to one side and caught sight of Samic again. He was wearing a smart, light-colored summer jacket that he hadn't had on before. He walked through the tables and out into the street. If he took a taxi that would be fine. They weren't planning to follow him by car tonight.

Samic walked northward toward the water, alone. Sara could hardly see him among the crowds of people flocking back and forth between the river and the town center. He crossed over the main road and turned right toward the marina. Lights from the Opera House glistened on the water. The café that formed a semicircle around the building was packed.

Then she saw Samic on the other side of the basin. He was standing still and appeared to be thinking. Behind him was a café closing for the night. It was one-thirty. Suddenly there was a woman in front of Samic, talking to him. Sara couldn't make out her face at this distance. After five minutes they started walking toward the far end of the wharf. Sara walked quickly around the basin, keeping her eye on the pair. It was easier now as places were closing and there were fewer people around.

She saw Samic and the woman turn the corner. They were thirty meters away. She paused and thought. There was nobody between her and the corner. She took a few more paces. The sound of music drifted from one of the cafes. She didn't hear the engine but saw the boat emerge from behind the corner and set off northward along the river. Quite a large motorboat that could be beige or light blue or yellow, but right now looked orange and black in the glow from the streetlights. Samic was at the wheel. He didn't look back. The woman was standing beside him, her hair fluttering in the breeze.

When Lars-Olof and Ann Hansson came home early the next morning, having spent the night with friends in the archipelago, they could see that something was wrong. As they stood in the hall, they noticed that it still smelled of night, a cool scent.

The window of Angelika's room was broken and standing half open. Paper and books and smashed ornaments were scattered over the floor. The desk drawers were wide open. Angelika's clothes were in a mess in the wardrobe, and its door was ajar. Her bed was in disarray. The uncovered mattress was lying sideways.

Ann Hansson fainted. Her husband called Winter.

Winter and Ringmar stood in Angelika's room. Winter noticed that the fresh flowers, formerly in a vase on the bureau, were now spread out in a semicircle.

"Somebody was looking for something," Ringmar said.

"Can you guess what?"

"The photograph."

Winter agreed.

"Didn't bother to clean up afterward."

"He knows what we're looking for," Winter said.

"Could be an ordinary burglar."

"There's a television set here," said Winter, pointing. "And a telephone on the bedside table over there." He gestured toward the bureau. "I'll bet her jewelry is still in the top drawer."