The Rabbit Hunter. Ларс Кеплер

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       14

      Work is over for the day in Unit T of the high-security prison at Kumla, and fifteen inmates are jostling for space in the cramped gym.

      No kettlebells, dumbbells, bars or any other equipment that could be used as a weapon is permitted.

      The inmates move aside when Reiner Kronlid and his bodyguards from the Brotherhood come in. Reiner’s power is based on the fact that he controls the flow of all narcotics in the unit, and he guards his position like a jealous god.

      Without him saying a word, a skinny man gets off his exercise bike and quickly wipes the saddle and handlebars with paper towels.

      The static fluorescent strip-lights reveal the shabby walls. The air is heavy with the smell of sweat and tiger balm.

      As usual, the group of old junkies is standing outside the dividing Plexiglas wall, and two Albanians from the Malmö gang are loitering by the folded table-tennis table.

      Joona Linna finishes a set of pull-ups, lets go of the bar and lands softly on the floor. He looks over at the window. Dusty sunlight fills the gym again. His grey eyes look like molten lead for a few seconds.

      Joona is clean-shaven, and his blond hair is cut short, almost in a crew-cut. His brow is furrowed, his mouth set firm. He’s wearing a pale blue T-shirt, its seams stretching over his bulging muscles.

      ‘One more set before we switch to a wider grip,’ Marko says to him.

      Marko is a wiry older prisoner who has taken it upon himself to act as Joona’s bodyguard.

      A new inmate with a thin, birdlike face is approaching the gym. He’s hiding something against his hip. His cheekbones are sharp, his lips pale, and his thinning hair is pulled up in a ponytail.

      He isn’t dressed for the gym. He’s wearing an open rust-red fleece jacket that reveals the tattoos on his chest and neck.

      The thin man passes beneath the last security camera mounted in the ceiling and enters the gym, then stops in front of Joona.

      One of the prison guards outside the Plexiglas turns, and the baton hanging by his hip swings against the glass.

      A few of the inmates have turned their backs on Joona and Marko.

      The atmosphere becomes tense, everyone moves with a new wariness.

      The only sound is a high-frequency hum from the ventilation.

      Joona stands underneath the pull-up bar again, jumps, and pulls himself up.

      Marko stands behind him with his sinuous tattooed arms hanging by his sides.

      The veins in Joona’s temples throb as he pulls himself up again and again, raising his chin above the bar.

      ‘Are you the cop?’ the man with the thin face asks.

      Small motes of dust drift gently through the still air. The guard on the other side of the Plexiglas exchanges a few words with an inmate, then starts to walk back towards the control room.

      Joona pulls himself up again.

      ‘Thirty more,’ Marko says.

      The man with the thin face СКАЧАТЬ