The Sandman. Ларс Кеплер
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Название: The Sandman
Автор: Ларс Кеплер
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Joona Linna
isbn: 9780007467808
isbn:
Anders crouches down and reaches for the piece of paper without taking his eyes off Jurek. The crumpled man tries to get up again, leaning on his hands, and although he sways slightly he manages to put one foot down on the floor.
Anders picks up the paper from the floor, and finally hears a rattling sound as the key is inserted into the lock of the door. He turns and stares out through the reinforced glass, feeling his legs tremble beneath him.
‘You shouldn’t have given me an overdose,’ Jurek mutters.
Anders doesn’t turn round, but he knows that Jurek Walter is standing up, staring at him.
The reinforced glass in the door is like a screen of grainy ice. He can’t see who’s standing on the other side turning the key in the lock.
‘Open, open,’ he whispers as he hears breathing behind his back.
The door slides open and Anders stumbles out of the isolation cell. He stumbles straight into the concrete wall of the corridor and hears the heavy clang as the door shuts, then the rattles as the powerful lock responds to the turn of the key.
Panting, he leans back against the cool wall. Only then does he see that it wasn’t the Senior Consultant who rescued him but the young woman with the pierced cheeks.
‘I don’t know what happened,’ she says. ‘Roland must have lost it completely, he’s always incredibly careful about security.’
‘I’ll talk to him …’
‘Maybe he got ill … I think he’s diabetic.’
Anders wipes his clammy hands on his doctor’s coat and looks up at her again.
‘Thank you for letting me out,’ he says.
‘I’d do anything for you,’ she jokes.
He tries to give her his carefree, boyish smile, but his legs are shaking as he follows her out through the security door. She stops in the control room, then turns back towards him.
‘There’s only one problem with working down here,’ she says. ‘It’s so damn quiet that you have to eat loads of sweets just to stay awake.’
‘That sounds OK.’
On a monitor he can see Jurek sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. The dayroom with its television and running machine is empty.
Anders Rönn spends the rest of the day concentrating on familiarising himself with the new routines, with a doctor’s round up on Ward 30, individual treatment plans and discharge tests, but his mind keeps going back to the letter in his pocket and what Jurek had said.
At ten past five Anders leaves the criminal psychology ward and emerges into the cool air. Beyond the illuminated hospital precinct the winter darkness has settled.
Anders warms his hands in his jacket pockets, and hurries across the pavement towards the large car park in front of the main entrance to the hospital.
It was full of cars when he arrived, but now it’s almost empty.
He screws up his eyes and realises that there’s someone standing behind his car.
‘Hello!’ Anders calls, walking faster.
The man turns round, rubs his hand over his mouth and moves away from the car. Senior Consultant Roland Brolin.
Anders slows down as he approaches the car and pulls his key from his pocket.
‘You’re expecting an apology,’ Brolin says with a forced smile.
‘I’d prefer not to have to speak to hospital management about what happened,’ Anders says.
Brolin looks him in the eye, then holds out his left hand, palm up.
‘Give me the letter,’ he says calmly.
‘What letter?’
‘The letter Jurek wanted you to find,’ he replies. ‘A note, a sheet of newspaper, a piece of cardboard.’
‘I found the knife that was supposed to be there.’
‘That was the bait,’ Brolin says. ‘You don’t think he’d put himself through all that pain for nothing?’
Anders looks at the Senior Consultant as he wipes sweat from his upper lip with one hand.
‘What do we do if the patient wants to see a lawyer?’ he asks.
‘Nothing,’ Brolin whispers.
‘Has he ever asked you that?’
‘I don’t know, I wouldn’t have heard, I always wear earplugs.’ Brolin smiles.
‘But I don’t understand why …’
‘You need this job,’ the Senior Consultant interrupts. ‘I’ve heard that you were bottom of your class, you’re in debt, you’ve got no experience and no references.’
‘Are you finished?’
‘You should give me the letter,’ Brolin replies, clenching his jaw.
‘I didn’t find a letter.’
Brolin looks him in the eye for a moment.
‘If you ever find a letter,’ he says, ‘you’re to give it to me without reading it.’
‘I understand,’ Anders says, unlocking the car door.
It seems to Anders as if the Senior Consultant looks slightly more relaxed as he gets in the car, shuts the door and starts the engine. When Brolin taps on the window he ignores him, puts the car in gear and pulls away. In the rear-view mirror Brolin stands and watches the car without smiling.
When Anders gets home he quickly shuts the front door behind him, locks it and puts the safety chain on.
His heart is beating hard in his chest – for some reason he ran from the car to the house.
From Agnes’s room he can hear Petra’s soothing voice. Anders smiles to himself. She’s already reading Seacrow Island to their daughter. It’s usually much later before the bedtime rituals have reached the story. It must have been a good day again today. Anders’s new job has meant that Petra has risked СКАЧАТЬ