Borkmann's point

30

She parked in the usual place on the other side of the smoke house. Locked the car and opened the zip of her tracksuit top slightly. It was warmer than she’d noticed earlier in the day; she would certainly be sweating a lot.

She set off, and immediately the heated excitement she felt in her mind spread all over her body, down to her legs and feet.

The pace she was setting was completely mad so early in the run. She would pay for this, but it was somehow irresistible.

She simply had to run fast now. Run fast and stretch herself to the limit in order to get her mind working clearly… to burn away the nervousness and excessive tension-this vibrant, almost hysterical feeling of approaching triumph. Of being about to have the solution in her grasp.

The breakthrough had arrived. Well, that might be over stating it, perhaps, but if she could complete the train of thought, the one that had been roused to life by the Melnik report and which now, after the first check, had proved to be… well, what?

There was nothing to contradict it, at least-nothing at all.

Although what the implications were was another matter alto gether.

She jumped down onto the beach and continued running to the water’s edge. The wind was warmer than ever down here, and she wished she’d been wearing thinner clothes.

Nothing to contradict it, then. On the contrary. A lot sup ported it-everything, perhaps. If only she could spell out her thoughts to Munster tonight, calmly, in peace and quiet, no doubt it would all become clear-cut.

Dusk was falling, and she wondered if she really ought to run the full course today as well. It would probably be quite dark in the woods on the way back, but there again, she was familiar with every inch… knew every root and every low branch by now; it would be a botched job if she shortened the run, and Beate Moerk didn’t like botched jobs.

And Munster wouldn’t phone until after eight. There was plenty of time.

The lactic acid arrived early. No wonder, she thought, and slowed down a little at last. It was unnecessary to make herself so weary that she ended up staggering through the woods.

A newspaper headline appeared in her mind’s eye: woman police inspector catches axman!

And an introductory paragraph along the lines of: “Despite the presence of criminal experts from outside, it was Kaalbrin gen’s own Beate Moerk who solved the case of the ax mur derer, which has made headlines all over the country. Our town is deeply grateful to her, now that our citizens can once again walk the streets at will and sleep peacefully in their beds at night.”

It was not possible to control the flush of satisfaction, and she stepped up the pace again.

However, she didn’t have very long to take pleasure in what was written about her before another heading came into her mind, totally unexpected. This time it was the title of a book, a book she’d never read, but she could remember holding it in her hand during a book sale back home in Friesen many years ago. It was an English book.

The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner.

She lurched to one side and almost fell on the sand.

How on earth had the title of this book floated up to the surface of her mind just now?

She dropped the thought and glanced over her shoulder.

The beach was deserted. Just as empty behind her as in front of her. She checked the time. Twenty-five past seven-a few more minutes and she’d come to the big rock and the tunnel under the road. Then the gentle climb into the woods, and back home…

Beate Moerk solves the riddle of the ax murderer!

The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner.

As she approached the top of the last hill, she felt very tired.

The lactic acid was making her thighs ache, and her heart was pumping salvos of blood into her throat… nearly at the top now. Pure willpower: clench your fists, grit your teeth and force yourself up those last few yards. Then, once over the top, it’s downhill again-a chance to take it easy, let your body recover, prepare for the last lap, the gently sloping stretch through the beech wood down to the smokehouse and the parking lot…

Thinking about the easy finish, the waiting car and a hot shower carried her to the top and gave her a good start on the downward slope; but even if she’d been a little less tired, and even if the light had been a bit more favorable that warm Sep 1 9 9 tember evening, it is highly unlikely that she would have noticed the dark steel wire in time.

It was stretched across the track at just below knee height and right at the bottom of the hill-just where the leaves of a lime tree added another layer to the gathering darkness. She fell headlong to the ground, and before she had even registered what was happening, he was over her.