No Survivors

36

Dr. Geisel had warned Carver he was a long way from being cured. There was always the possibility of a relapse. Short of that, he could expect sudden, violent changes of mood.

He was beginning to understand what the shrink had meant. It was barely a five-minute drive from his flat to the bierkeller, but as soon as the Volvo got moving, the glorious sense of confidence and self-assurance began to fade and his uneasiness returned, his guts tightening, shoulder muscles tensing. Carver took a series of long, deep breaths and slowly rotated his head, lifting his chin up, then coming around and down till it was almost resting on his chest, breathing out as his head came down, then back in as it rose again.

“You all right?” asked Larsson from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, just trying to get myself level, you know.”

“You’d better tell me what happened at the clinic.”

Carver sighed deeply as he lowered his head, eyes shut. He remained like that for a second, screwed his face up in a grimace, then turned his head toward Larsson.

“Someone tried to kill me.”

“And…?”

“And someone else will be discovering the body any time now, so just shut up, keep driving, and help me get on with finding Alix.”

Larsson brought the car to a sudden halt. He sat quite still as Carver snapped, “What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Without warning, Larsson shot out his right arm and grabbed Carver by the throat, pushing him back until he was forced against the side of the car.

Carver struggled to free himself, his body impeded by the seat belt, his feet stuck in the passenger footwell.

“I don’t like people who are rude to me,” Larsson sounded like he was explaining a misunderstanding, getting things straight. “So just stay cool, all right?”

He let go his grip and gradually brought his arm back, never taking his eyes off Carver.

“Okay,” said Carver. “I apologize. I just want to get Alix back.”

“Maybe, but you’re not going after her now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not in shape. Look at yourself-you let me grab you one-handed. Your mood’s up and down like a yo-yo. You can’t climb the stairs to your apartment without getting out of breath. You’re weeks away from being fit.”

Carver’s eyelids drooped in tacit acknowledgment.

“Okay-maybe you’re right… maybe. But I can’t just sit around on my arse doing nothing. If I can work out what she was doing, where she was before she disappeared, at least that’s something. Look, this beer place will be closing any minute and I can’t come back tomorrow, because I’ve got to be out of town. I’ll just go in, have a drink, ask a few questions, nice and easy. Trust me-I won’t start any fights.”

“Thank God for that,” said Larsson as he started up the engine again.