Part 53 (2/2)

She moves further in, away from the door, thinking that she'll just sit here, it won't be long, not now that the police have arrived.

She hears the whimpering sound again. Very close to her.

She turns her head but can't see anything.

The whimpering becomes a weak wheezing sound.

It's coming from the safety valve of the hot-water tank.

Katryna feels her way forward and finds the paint-stained stepladder standing against the wall.

She unfolds it in silence and moves it to the wall beneath the window up by the ceiling.

Someone has stolen Lama.s.su, she thinks. The embroidered cloth with her protective deity, her protector, that's why this is happening.

She can't stay in the house, she never wants to come back here again. She twists the two catches of the window and is pus.h.i.+ng the little window against the weeds when she feels a cold draught around her ankles.

Someone's coming up behind her, she's convinced of it.

Someone's got in through the cellar door, they've cut the rope holding it closed and are on their way inside.

It's impossible to open the window properly. She tries again, but it keeps. .h.i.tting something. Panting for breath, she reaches out with her arm, through the weeds, and feels that the lawnmower is parked too close.

She tries to push it away with her hand, pus.h.i.+ng even though she can feel the stepladder slide backwards beneath her. She turns the wheel of the lawnmower by hand and manages to roll it a few centimetres.

The window slides open and she starts to crawl out as the door to the boiler room bursts open and the light is switched on. The old starter switch makes the fluorescent tube flicker. Katryna tries to scramble out as the steps are yanked away from beneath her and clatter to the floor. Her legs thud against the wall, her knees sting, but she clings on to the frame and fights to pull herself up.

The first stab of the knife hits her back so hard that she hears the point sc.r.a.pe the concrete wall in front of her.

92.

Adam Youssef is lying on his stomach on the paved path outside his home, with his hands cuffed behind his back. His thigh is throbbing, his black jeans are wet with blood, but the superficial gunshot wound doesn't really hurt. Blue lights from various vehicles are pulsing over the dark greenery of the garden in a peculiar rhythm.

A police officer presses his knee into Adam's shoulder blades and yells at him to be quiet while he explains the situation to the operational team.

'Katryna's still in there,' Adam pants.

The operational lead officer is in direct contact with the head of the Stockholm Rapid Response Unit, trying to coordinate their efforts. The first team is forcing the windows and doors, securing entry and letting the paramedics through.

The officer who has been shot is rolled out on a stretcher while staff at the Karolinska Hospital in Huddinge have been warned to prepare for immediate sedation and an operation.

Adam tries to pull free but is struck so hard across the kidneys that he loses his breath. He coughs, and feels the police officer pressing his knee against the back of his neck, grabbing his jacket and roaring at him to lie still.

'I'm a police officer, and-'

'Shut up!'

The second officer takes Adam's wallet, backs away slightly, and the gravel crunches beneath his shoes as he looks at Adam's police badge and ID.

'National Crime,' he confirms.

The police officer removes his knee from Adam's back and stands up, breathing hard. As the pressure is removed from his neck and lungs, Adam catches his breath and tries to roll over on to his side.

'You shot a plain-clothed police officer,' the officer says.

'He had my wife, I saw her with him, and thought-'

'He was the first officer on the scene and he was on his way out with her ... everyone had received that information.'

'Just get her out!' Adam begs.

'What the h.e.l.l are you two doing?' a woman shouts.

It's Margot. Adam sees her legs through the blackberry bushes by the road, as she walks through the gate and stops.

'He's a police officer,' she says, and takes several shallow breaths. 'It's his wife who-'

'He shot a colleague,' one of the officers says.

'It was an accident,' Adam says. 'I thought-'

'Don't say anything else,' Margot interrupts. 'Where's Katryna?'

'I don't know, I don't know anything ... Margot-'

'I'm going in,' she says, and he watches her feet move along the path.

'Tell her I love her,' he whispers.

'Help him up,' Margot tells the two officers. 'And get those handcuffs off put him in one of the cars for the time being.'

She starts to walk towards the house with both hands round her stomach.

A young man from the rapid response unit comes out through the front door with his helmet in his hand. He pa.s.ses Margot and throws up right across the front steps, then carries on down the garden path with a glazed look on his face. He unfastens his bulletproof vest and lets it fall to the ground, emerges on to the street and throws up again between two parked patrol cars, then leans on the bonnet of one of the cars and spits.

The two officers take hold of Adam's arms, pull him up on to his feet and lead him away from the house. He feels blood trickling down his thigh from the gunshot wound. They lead him off to a patrol car and sit him in the back seat, but leave the handcuffs on.

Another ambulance pa.s.ses the cordon and is waved forward by the police. Adam can hear the sharp clatter of a helicopter and looks towards the front door to see if Margot is coming out with Katryna.

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