The Leopard

57
Thunder

Under the glare of the lamp, Bjorn Holm and Beate Lonn were standing by the steel table in the laboratory staring at the navy blue ski pants before them.

‘That is definitely a semen stain,’ Beate said.

‘Or a line of semen,’ Bjorn Holm said. ‘Look at the shape.’

‘Too little for an ejaculation. Looks like an erect, wet penis has been shoved up the bottom of the person wearing the ski pants. You said Bruun was homosexual, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but he says he hasn’t worn them since he lent them to Adele.’

‘Then I would say we have semen stains typical of a rape. We’ll just have to send them for DNA testing, Bjorn.’

‘Agreed. What do you think about that?’ Holm pointed to the light blue hospital trousers, to two friction marks under both back pockets.

‘What is it?’

‘Something that won’t go away in the wash at any rate. It’s a nonylphenol-based material called PSG. It’s used in car cleaning products, among other things.’

‘She’s obviously been sitting somewhere.’

‘Not just sitting, it’s deep in the fibre. She’s been rubbing. Hard. Like this.’ He thrust his hips backwards and forwards.

‘I see. Any theories as to why?’

She put on her glasses and looked at Holm as his mouth distorted into a variety of shapes to articulate expressions his brain generated and immediately rejected.

‘Dry humping?’ Beate asked.

‘Yes,’ Holm said, with relief.

‘I see. And where and when does a woman who doesn’t work at a hospital wear hospital gear and dry hump on PSG?’

‘Simple,’ said Bjorn Holm. ‘At a nocturnal rendezvous in a disused PSG factory.’

The clouds parted, and again they were bathed in the magic blue light in which everything, even the shadows, became phosphorised, frozen as if for a still life.

Kolkka had gone to bed, but Harry presumed the Finn was lying in the bedroom with his eyes open and his other senses on maximum alert.

Kaja sat by the window with her chin resting on her hand looking out. She was wearing her white jumper as they only had electric radiators. They had agreed it might look suspicious if smoke was coming from the chimney all the time when apparently there were just two people there.

‘If you ever miss the starry sky over Hong Kong, look outside now,’ Kaja said.

‘I can’t remember any starry sky,’ Harry said, lighting a cigarette.

‘Isn’t there anything about Hong Kong you miss?’

‘Li Yuan’s glass noodles,’ Harry said. ‘Every day.’

‘Are you in love with me?’ She had lowered her voice only a fraction and was looking at him attentively while tying an elastic band around her hair.

Harry examined his feelings. ‘Not right now.’

She laughed, her face expressing surprise. ‘Not right now? What does that mean?’

‘That that part of me is tuned out as long as we’re here.’

She shook her head. ‘You’re damaged goods, Hole.’

‘About that,’ Harry said with a crooked smile, ‘there is little doubt.’

‘And what about when this job is over in -’ she looked at her watch – ‘ten hours?’

‘Then I may be in love with you again,’ Harry said, placing his hand next to hers on the table. ‘If not before.’

She looked at their hands. Saw how much bigger his were. How much more delicately shaped hers were. How much paler and how gnarled his were, with thick blood vessels twisting and turning all over the back of his hand.

‘So you could be in love before the job is over after all, eh?’ She placed her hand on his.

‘I meant the job could be over before-’

She withdrew her hand.

Harry looked at her in surprise. ‘I just meant-’

‘Listen!’

Harry held his breath and listened. But heard nothing.

‘What was it?’

‘Sounded like a car,’ Kaja said, peering out. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘Unlikely, in my opinion,’ Harry said. ‘It’s more than ten kilometres to the nearest road open in winter. What about a helicopter? Or a snowmobile?’

‘Or what about my overactive imagination?’ Kaja sighed. ‘The sound’s gone. And, on reflection, perhaps it was never there. Sorry, but you can easily become a bit oversensitive when you’re afraid and-’

‘No,’ Harry said, getting up. ‘Suitably afraid. Suitably sensitive. Describe what you heard.’ Harry took his revolver from his shoulder holster and went to the second window.

‘Nothing, I keep telling you!’

Harry opened the window a fraction. ‘Your hearing’s better than mine. Listen for both of us.’

They sat listening to the silence. Minutes passed.

‘Harry…’

‘Shhh.’

‘Come and sit down again, Harry.’

‘He’s here,’ Harry said, half aloud as though talking to himself. ‘He’s here now.’

‘Harry, now it’s you who’s being oversensi-’

There was a muffled boom. The sound was low, deep, sort of slow, no forward thrust, like distant thunder. But Harry knew that thunder seldom occurred with a clear sky at seven degrees below zero.

He held his breath.

And then he heard it. Another roar, different from the boom, but this too was a low frequency, like the sound waves from a bass speaker, sound waves that move air, that are felt in the stomach. Harry had heard this sound only once before, but he knew he would remember it for the rest of his life.

‘Avalanche!’ Harry yelled and ran towards Kolkka’s bedroom, which faced the mountainside. ‘Avalanche!’

The bedroom door opened and there was Kolkka, wide awake. They could feel the ground shaking. It was a big avalanche. Whether the cabin had a cellar or not, Harry knew they would never have been able to make it there. For behind Kolkka fragments of glass from what had once been a window flew past, forced in by the air that avalanches push ahead of them.

‘Take my hand!’ Harry shouted above the roar and stretched out his hands, one to Kaja and one to Kolkka. He saw them race towards him as the air was sucked out of the cabin, as if the avalanche had breathed out first and then in. He felt Kolkka’s hand squeeze his hard and waited for Kaja’s. Then the wall of snow hit the cabin.