Watching You(73)

They held back, waiting for more obvious signs. After a minute or so the driver’s window opened and a piece of chewing gum was thrown out. Berger wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but he’d thought he’d seen a big, cheap diver’s watch on the wrist before it quickly disappeared.

He let out a deep sigh and turned round. She had already walked away. They found a kitchen door at the back of the building, crossed the gardens of a number of identical apartment blocks, emerged onto Vendels? g?rdsv?g, ran west through the pouring rain, away from Lupinstigen and reached a car park, checked for security cameras and failed to find any. Berger identified a suitably antiquated car, put his old tricks to good use and jimmied the lock. They got in and waited. None of the neighbours appeared; there was no reaction. He leaned over and pulled the cables free, then touched them together. The old car rumbled into life.

‘I was very fond of my Vito,’ Blom sighed.

Berger moved off towards Vendels? g?rdsv?g, then paused briefly before heading left, towards the lake. They both looked right and saw a rain-drenched figure.

There was no doubt that it was Roy’s colleague, Kent. He had evidently been hidden from view.

They saw him turn round and gesticulate frantically towards Lupinstigen. Berger let slip another deep sigh and put his foot down.

‘And we had to take this piece of shit,’ Blom said.

‘If you’d been able to break into a newer model, we could have taken that,’ Berger said pointedly.

He turned left into Vendels? allé and roared out onto the main road by pretty much ignoring a roundabout. Blom kept her eye on the rear-view mirror.

‘They’re gaining on us,’ she said.

Piece of shit it might be, but it had a bit of go in it, Berger concluded with his foot on the floor. Even so, it was obvious that Roy and Kent were getting closer and closer in their souped-up graphite-grey Security Service car. Berger tried to focus. They were on a typical main road in the outer suburbs. What was Roy thinking? Was he seriously going to ram them on a busy major road? Shoot at them, even? They were probably safer on main roads and open spaces, sticking to an inconspicuous speed. But then they wouldn’t have any chance of shaking Roy and Kent, and the Volvo was bound to have a tank twice the size of theirs. And backup was undoubtedly on the way. Something needed to happen. Fast.

Berger cast a brief glance at Blom. She looked like her thoughts were running in the same direction. Gud?broleden would soon dive beneath the motorway. They could get up onto the larger Nyn?sv?gen and hope for enough traffic to allow them to make their escape.

‘Up here or not?’ Berger roared.

‘Not,’ Blom said, and pointed to the left. Some way off a number of high-rise apartment blocks loomed above what was probably Haninge shopping centre. He heard the distant sound of a train heading south, and he ran a red light by the junction with Gamla Nyn?sv?gen. A state of mild chaos broke out in the traffic behind them, putting another hundred metres between them and the Volvo. Vital metres. Then he jerked the wheel abruptly and raced into the jungle of Haninge’s apartment blocks. He found what looked like a full car park and drove into the last free space.

Blom nodded and threw herself out. They ran from the car, keeping low. From a distance it looked comfortably anonymous. They ran into the housing estate and saw the graphite-grey Volvo drive past out on Gamla Nyn?sv?gen. They saw it brake sharply, as Roy looked for somewhere to turn round, but the carriageways were separated by a stretch of grass that was too high to drive across without wrecking the car.

Blom suddenly grabbed his hand and took off. They crossed Gamla Nyn?sv?gen between angry, horn-blaring cars, and then Berger realised why Blom had run. He too could hear a train in the distance, and it sounded different, as if it was slowing down. They ran along a quieter street and saw, a few hundred metres away, a covered footbridge. That ought to signify a railway station. Through the rain they could soon see the storm-lashed water of a lake, and, this side of it, an embankment, a platform, a railway line, a fence that didn’t look too high, even if the barbed wire looked vicious. The sound of the train grew louder and louder as a local commuter service pulled slowly in along the far set of tracks.

Blom set off towards the fence. She grabbed the wire between barbs and turned a full somersault to reach the embankment. It was rush hour and the platform was full of commuters. People stared at her, someone took a picture with a mobile phone. Berger in turn glanced quickly over his shoulder and saw a grey Volvo speeding along the station road. Instinctively he rushed at the fence and grabbed it, ignoring the fact that a barb pierced his left palm. The southbound local train pulled up at the platform and the doors slid slowly open.

‘Come on!’ Blom yelled from the embankment.

The sound of the Volvo’s engine was very clear now, a subdued growl. People streamed out of the open doors of the train, others started to get on. The driver’s voice rang out. Berger couldn’t get a firm grip with his feet; they kept slipping in the gaps in the fence. Blom grabbed his jacket and pulled him over, and he tumbled into a puddle. The Volvo caught up with them, stopping just a few metres behind Berger’s back, but he was over now. He got to his feet and rushed wildly after Blom, who had just leapt onto the platform from the rails closest to them. The train’s doors began to close, and she jumped in and reached one hand out through the diminishing gap. He just managed to catch her hand and let himself be pulled in before the doors closed and the train set off. The last they saw of Handen station was Roy punching the fence. His whole arm recoiled.