The Redeemer(11)

Harry managed to put his left elbow over the edge of the fence and tried to drag them both up, but the dog had one paw in the wire. With his right hand he groped for his coat pocket, found it and his hand grabbed the rubber shaft of the torch. He looked down and for the first time saw the animal. The black eyes in the equally black face had a dull sheen. Harry swung the torch. It hit the dog on the head right between its ears and so hard that he heard a crunch. He raised the torch and struck again. Hitting the sensitive snout. Struck out in desperation at the eyes which still had not blinked. He lost hold of the torch and it fell to the ground. The dog was still hanging from his leg. Soon Harry would not have the strength to hold on to the fence. He did not want to think about what might happen then, but was unable to stop himself.

'Help!'

Harry's feeble cry was carried away on the wind that had sprung up again. He changed grip and felt a sudden urge to laugh. Surely it couldn't all end like this? Being found in a container terminal with his throat savaged by a guard dog? Harry took a deep breath. The jagged points from the wire netting were digging into his armpit; his fingers were wilting fast. He was seconds away from letting go. If only he had a weapon. If only he had had a bottle instead of the hip flask, he could have smashed it and used it to stab with.

The hip flask!

Summoning his last strength, Harry reached inside his coat and pulled out the flask. He stuffed the spout into his mouth, sank his teeth in the metal top and twisted. The top loosened and he held it between his teeth as the whisky filled his mouth. A shock ran through his body. Christ. He pressed his face against the fence, forcing his eyes closed, and the distant lights of the Plaza and Opera hotels became white stripes in all the darkness. With his right hand he lowered the flask until it was above the dog's red jaws. Then he spat out the top and the whisky, mumbled 'Skål' and emptied the flask. For two long seconds the black doggy eyes stared up at Harry in total perplexity as the brown liquid gurgled and trickled down Harry's leg into the open jaws. The animal relinquished its hold. Harry heard the smack of living flesh on bare tarmac. Followed by a kind of death rattle and low whimpering, then the scratching sound of paws, and the dog was swallowed up by the dark from which it had emerged.

Harry swung his legs over the fence. He rolled up his trouser leg. Even without the torch he knew the evening was going to be spent in A&E and not watching All About Eve.


Jon lay with his head in Thea's lap and his eyes closed, enjoying the regular drone of the TV. It was one of these series she liked so much. King of the Bronx. Or was it The King of Queens?

'Have you asked your brother if he would do your shift in Egertorget?' Thea asked.

She had placed a hand over his eyes. He could smell the sweet fragrance of her skin, which meant that she had just given herself a shot of insulin.

'Which shift?' Jon asked.

She snatched away her hand and stared at him in disbelief.

Jon laughed. 'Relax. I spoke to Robert ages ago. He agreed.'

She gave a groan of resignation. Jon grabbed her hand and put it back over his eyes.

'I didn't say it was your birthday though,' he said. 'If I had, I'm not sure he would have agreed.'

'Why not?'

'Because he's crazy about you, and you know it.'

'That's what you say.'

'And you don't like him.'

'That's not true!'

'Why do you always go stiff whenever I mention his name then?'

She laughed out loud. Must have been something in Bronx. Or Queens.

'Did you get a table at the restaurant?' she asked.

'Yes.'

She smiled and squeezed his hand. Then she furrowed her brow. 'I've been thinking. Someone might see us there.'

'From the Army? Out of the question.'

'What if they do?'

Jon didn't answer.

'Perhaps it's time we went public,' she said.

'I don't know,' he said. 'Isn't it best to wait until we're absolutely sure that—'

'Aren't you sure, Jon?'

Jon moved her hand and looked up at her in dismay: 'Thea, please. You know very well that I love you above all else. That's not the point.'

'What is the point then?'

Jon sighed and sat up beside her. 'You don't know Robert, Thea.'

She gave a wry smile. 'I've known him since we were tiny, Jon.'

Jon squirmed. 'Yes, but there are things you don't know. You don't know how angry he can get. He takes after Dad. He can be dangerous, Thea.'

She leaned back against the wall and stared into the air.

'I suggest we defer it for a while.' Jon wrung his hands. 'Out of consideration for your brother, too.'

'Rikard?' she said, surprised.

'Yes. What would he say if you, his own sister, announced your engagement to me right now?'

'Ah, I see what you mean. As you're both competing for the head of admin job?'

'You know very well that the High Council sets great store by high-ranking officers having a respectable officer as their spouse. It's obvious that the right thing to do from a tactical point of view would be to announce my marriage to Thea Nilsen, the daughter of Frank Nilsen, the commander's right hand. But would it be morally right?'