The Inspector and Silence (36 page)

She gazed out of the window and appeared to be thinking.

‘In the forest,’ she said in due course. ‘That’s where he feels safe, as it were, he might well be there – oh God!’

She suddenly seemed to fall to pieces. She flung herself down onto the floor on her knees next to the bunk, wrapped her arms around her head and began swaying from side to side.

‘Help him, please! Please help him!’

Van Veeteren stooped down and stroked her back rather awkwardly. Then he opened the door and shouted for Inspector Tolltse.

No, he thought. I can’t take any more of this.

‘We haven’t forgotten anything, I hope?’ said Reinhart.

‘The Wanted messages are all seen to,’ said Kluuge.

‘All over the country!’ snorted Suijderbeck ‘This is where the bastard’s lying in wait. He’s riding a bike, have you forgotten that?’

‘We have twenty-five officers in place here,’ continued Kluuge, not to be deterred. ‘And twenty more on their way. Two helicopters have already scrambled.’

‘And the summer camps warned,’ said Lauremaa.

‘How many of those are there?’ wondered Jung.

‘Far too many,’ said Kluuge with a sigh. ‘At the moment we have between three and four hundred girls of about the right age in various camps.’

‘Good God!’ said Reinhart.

‘But they’ve been given strict instructions,’ said Lauremaa.

‘That’s no guarantee,’ said Servinus.

‘No,’ said Reinhart. ‘There are never any guarantees in our line of business, dammit.’

Inspector Lauremaa stood up in irritation and walked over to the window.

‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘if he turns up on the streets of this town, he’s had it. Every man jack will recognize him. We’ll catch him all right, it’s just a matter of time.’

‘There’s something else that’s just a matter of time,’ said Reinhart.

‘I know,’ said Lauremaa. ‘I don’t need reminding.’

The door opened and Van Veeteren came in, a toothpick sticking out of each side of his mouth. He flopped down onto Lauremaa’s empty chair and looked around.

‘The forest,’ he said. ‘His mother thinks he’s in the forest.’

Nobody spoke for a few seconds.

‘Okay,’ said Suijderbeck ‘That sounds plausible. We can tell the helicopters to do a sweep over the forest. Around the lake first and foremost, that’s probably where he thinks he’ll get a bite.’

‘Most probably,’ said Jung. ‘What kind of communications set-up do we have access to?’

‘The cars parked outside,’ said Suijderbeck, pointing. ‘Servinus and I will see to that right away. What are the twenty-five officers who’ve already arrived doing?’

‘Waiting for orders,’ said Kluuge.

‘Right, out into the forest with them,’ said Suijderbeck. ‘Long lines of them scouring the other side of the lake, or what do you think?’

‘Yes,’ said Kluuge. ‘That’s probably the best plan.’

‘Oh hell!’ said Jung. ‘Do you know what? Something’s just occurred to me. I saw a guy with a bike when we were driving to Waldingen. Last night, that is. He was having a pee against a tree trunk, his bicycle on the ground beside him. I only saw his back, but it could well have been him . . .’

‘Oh my God!’ groaned Reinhart. ‘And they’ve made you an inspector?’

Jung shook his head and muttered something.

‘Weren’t you driving along the same road as well?’ asked Van Veeteren.

‘Enough of that,’ said Lauremaa. ‘If it was him, at least it shows that we’re searching in the right place.’

‘It’s a quarter to eight,’ said Suijderbeck. ‘Let’s get out there and catch this bastard!’

He woke up and looked at his watch.

Five minutes to eight.

He’d managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep. It felt good, and he’d needed it.

Not a bad place either. Protected and warmed up by the sun. He could just see the lake beyond the fir trees, and in the distance he could hear the voices of young girls playing away merrily. Presumably he’d been able to hear them while he was asleep – his insides were in tumult already, and his erection was as hard as his baton.

He realized he was holding the baton in his hand. Gave a laugh, took hold of his own with his other hand and compared them.

A blonde, he thought. Ten points for a blonde.

But anything else would also be okay, of course.

He raised himself up on his elbows and gazed down the slope towards the water.

‘I lost it yesterday,’ explained Helene Klausner. ‘When we were up there.’

She pointed into the trees.

‘It must be still there. Are you coming with me?’

Ruth Najda shook her head.

‘It’s breakfast in ten minutes. And they told us not to go anywhere. Something’s happened. They’re having a meeting now.’

‘It’ll only take five minutes.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘You can borrow my diving mask.’

‘I’ve already said, I don’t want to.’

‘Will you wait here then while I go and look myself?’

Ruth Najda clambered down from the rock.

‘I think we should go to the dining room now. The rest are there already. You can fetch it later. It’s only a hairslide, for goodness sake!’

Helene Klausner shook her long, fair hair.

‘Maybe, but I need it now. I’m going anyway. Will you wait for me?’

‘Okay,’ said Ruth Najda with a sigh. ‘But you’d better hurry up. I’m hungry.’

‘Five minutes!’ shouted Helene as she hurried into the trees.

Jung settled down behind Suijderbeck and Servinus in the radio patrol car. Felt how exhaustion was slowly taking possession of him as he stared at the red digital figures, slowly ticking out the ponderous minutes of morning.

08.16

08.17

How many more minutes? he thought. Before something happens. A hundred? A thousand?

Was there really anything to suggest that Wim Fingher really was still here in Sorbinowo? And not somewhere else? Anywhere else in the world?

If he’d happened to hear the radio for just one minute that morning, he must have known that they were on his trail. That he was a hunted quarry – and even if he was a mad murderer, he must have had enough sense to get the hell out of there.

By bike or on foot.

Through the forests.

Surely even a lunatic like him must have a certain kind of logic?

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘Hmm, I’m damned if I know,’ said Servinus. ‘What do you think?’

‘Hard to say. Obviously it would be most convenient if—’

‘Shut up!’ roared Suijderbeck, adjusting his earphones. ‘What did you say? . . . Okay! . . . Good! . . . Where exactly? . . . After the bridge? Which fucking bridge? . . . Yes, I understand. I’ll inform the others. Over and out.’

‘Ha!’ he said as he slid down his earphones so that they hung round his neck. ‘They’ve found his bike. The bastard can’t be far away now!’

‘Where?’ said Jung.

‘The main road where the bridge crosses over between the lakes. Just on the other side.’

‘Okay,’ said Jung. ‘I’m on my way there, to help out.’

‘What the hell . . . ?’ said Reinhart, adjusting the focus.

‘What have you seen?’ asked the chief inspector.

He eased back the throttle and the engine spluttered to a halt.

‘There’s a young girl sitting all by herself on a rock on the other side over there. Look!’

Reinhart handed over his binoculars and pointed at the bathing beach. Van Veeteren scanned the water and the forest several times before he found the right spot.

‘My God, yes . . .’ he said. ‘There’s a summer camp round about there, I’m pretty sure.’

‘Start the engine again,’ said Reinhart. ‘She can’t sit there, for Christ’s sake!’

After several failed attempts, Van Veeteren eventually coaxed the outboard motor back to life and they headed straight across the lake. Reinhart was crouching in the bows with the binoculars, Van Veeteren in the stern, huddled up in an attempt to avoid the worst of the wind and the spray.

I prefer canoes, the chief inspector thought. God knows how much I prefer them. But I haven’t escaped from this treadmill yet, of course.

‘Hi there,’ said the man, standing up.

She paused. Brushed her long hair from out of her eyes and squinted at him.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘What are you doing here yourself?’

He burst out laughing.

‘I like people like you,’ he said. ‘I’m not doing anything special. Just looking for mushrooms – if there are any yet.’

‘Oh, there are,’ she said. ‘We picked a whole bagful the other day. But we had to throw most of them away. Our teachers said they weren’t edible, but I think they only said that because they couldn’t be bothered to trim and clean them. Why haven’t you got anything to put your mushrooms in? What’s that thing?’

She pointed at the rubber thing he was holding in his hand.

‘This?’ he said, with a smile. ‘Would you like me to show you how to use it?’

She checked her watch.

‘Sorry, I don’t have time,’ she said. ‘I’m just looking for my hairslide. I lost it up here yesterday.’

‘Your hair?’ he said, and gulped.

‘Yes, it was somewhere near here.’

She made a sweeping gesture.

‘Let me help you to find it.’

She smiled at him.

‘Thank you! How nice of you. This way!’

‘What are you doing here?’ said Reinhart.

The girl slithered down from the rock.

‘What do you mean?’

They got out of the boat and pulled it up a few metres onto the narrow beach.

‘We’re looking for somebody,’ explained the chief inspector. ‘Haven’t you been told not to go off on your own today?’

‘No . . . Well, yes, but I’m waiting for a friend.’

‘A friend?’ said Reinhart.

‘Yes, she was just going to fetch something.’

‘What exactly?’

‘A hairslide.’

‘And where had she left it?’ asked Van Veeteren impatiently.

‘She’d lost it up there in the woods yesterday.’

She gestured up the slope.

‘What’s your name?’ asked Reinhart.

‘Ruth Najda. And who are you?’

‘We’re police officers,’ said Reinhart. ‘So you’re saying that your friend has gone up into the woods to look for her hairband, is that right?’

‘Hairslide,’ said Ruth Najda. ‘Not hairband.’

‘Okay. When did she set off?’

The girl checked her watch then shrugged her shoulders.

‘A quarter of an hour ago, more or less. She said she’d be back in five minutes, but that was thirteen and a half minutes ago.’

‘Hell and damnation!’ said Reinhart. ‘Show us exactly which way she took!’

‘Why are you so—’ Ruth Najda began, but the chief inspector interrupted her.

‘Get on with it!’ he bellowed. ‘We’re in a hurry and this isn’t a game!’

‘Okay,’ said the girl, and set off through the alders.

‘How’s it going?’ yelled Suijderbeck into the microphone. ‘Can’t you switch off that damned engine so that we can hear what you say?’

‘It’s not easy to fly a helicopter without an engine,’ explained the voice. ‘But we caught a glimpse of somebody down below a couple of minutes ago. It might have been him. And the guys down there are hot on his heels.’

‘Well done!’ roared Suijderbeck. ‘Make sure he doesn’t get away, because if he does I’ll be up there with you before you know what’s hit you, and kick you all out one after another. Is that clear?’

There was a crackling noise over and over again. Then:

‘Your name’s Suijderbeck, is that right?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘I thought I recognized your style, that’s all.’

‘Over and out,’ said Suijderbeck.

It was Reinhart who saw them first.

He glimpsed the girl’s long, fair hair flashing past some tree trunks, then Wim Fingher’s back appeared briefly. Then they came into full view as they emerged from between two large, moss-covered boulders – first the girl and then, ever so close behind, the murderer, clutching a black baton in his hand.

Van Veeteren stopped dead. Reinhart stumbled, recovered his balance and reached for his gun – but it wasn’t necessary: at that very moment there was a commotion in the thicket and two uniformed police officers came racing out. One threw himself at Wim Fingher in a flying tackle that wouldn’t have been out of place in any American B-movie you could think of, the chief inspector thought. It sent him crashing to the ground, and the other officer stood with his legs wide apart, his pistol aimed at the murderer’s head from a metre away.