‘I assume you mean Haiman is going to come looking for me.’
‘We don’t use violent methods. That’s part of the stereotype of immigrants people like you help to perpetuate.’
‘I’m not perpetuating any stereotypes. I’m just trying to understand what you’re saying.’
‘The reporter was also very disappointed. He said he was going to study your poetry for signs of a mindset that despises weakness in people. Even if you try to hide behind pretty words he’ll find you out. He’ll crush you.’
Humlin’s stomach started to hurt.
‘This is unfair. I don’t deserve this kind of treatment.’
Törnblom threw his cigarette on the floor and crushed it with his foot.
‘There’s no point in continuing this conversation. I still don’t understand how you can claim one of the girls was with you on the train only to disappear in Hallsberg. It sounds implausible. I take it for granted you understand that we will have no contact after this. You should also avoid Stensgården, at least for the next few years. The people out there have their pride, however humble their circumstances.’
Törnblom left. Humlin searched desperately for a solution to what he now viewed as his greatest problem, the fact that a reporter was going to write an article with the intention of crushing him. But he was also hurt and saddened by Törnblom’s words.
The door opened and a police officer looked in.
‘You are free to go,’ he said. ‘We just need you to sign a couple of papers.’
‘I’m not signing anything.’
‘It’s just a document stating that you are not accused of having committed any crime.’
Humlin signed it.
‘What happened to the girl who was brought in with me?’
‘Do you mean Tatyana? Tatyana Nilsson?’
Humlin wasn’t surprised by anything at this point.
‘Yes. Where is she? We arrived at the boxing club at the same time. The door was already broken in.’
‘We know that.’
‘So I’m assuming that means she is also being released now?’
‘We can’t release her.’
‘Why not?’
‘She escaped through a window in the bathroom. We’re still not sure how she actually opened it and got herself out.’
‘Is that a crime?’
‘Not in itself. But we have been checking her driving licence in our registers and there’s something fishy about the information she gave us. We haven’t got to the bottom of it yet.’
‘There are few things that make any sense in this life,’ Humlin said. ‘But can I go now?’
It was a quarter past five. Before Humlin left the station he called his mobile phone number. He was surprised to hear that someone answered.
‘Who am I speaking to?’ he asked.
‘Who’s asking?’
‘The phone you’re using actually belongs to me.’
The man who had answered Humlin’s phone sounded sleepy and not completely sober.
‘I bought this phone yesterday for one hundred kronor.’
‘I’m going to block the account as soon as this conversation is over. If you really did buy the phone you bought stolen property.’
‘I don’t care about that. But you can get it back for five hundred.’
‘Where can I meet you?’
‘I’ll think about it. Call back in an hour. What time is it anyway? Who the hell calls people at this hour?’
‘I’ll call back in quarter of an hour.’
Humlin’s head was throbbing. During the last few years he had become increasingly convinced that he was going to develop high blood pressure, just like Olof Lundin. But his doctor had patiently explained to him that his blood pressure was completely normal. He had bought a blood pressure cuff in secret since he always suspected she didn’t tell him the truth. When the cuff showed the same results as the doctor’s, he immediately suspected that it had malfunctioned.
Every morning he spent the first few minutes of his day going through his various body parts to see how he felt. He was rarely sick but often felt bad. If he discovered some little thing that seemed amiss it could ruin his whole day. A few weeks earlier he had found a strange rash on his leg and right arm. He immediately suspected it could be the sign of serious illness and asked Andrea about it as soon as he had a chance. She glanced at his arm.
‘That’s nothing,’ she said.
‘You can see this, can’t you? How can you say it’s nothing?’
‘Because I am a highly qualified nurse and because I can see with my own eyes that it’s nothing.’
‘But I’m completely red here!’
‘Does it itch?’
‘No.’
‘Hurt?’
‘No.’
‘Then don’t worry about it.’
Then, he was temporarily assuaged by Andrea’s words. Now he massaged his aching head and wondered if he should call his doctor, even though it was only half past five in the morning.
