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father. Instead she had made do with holding the Viking Age coin in her hand for a moment to admire it.
    The singer’s soft, raspy voice was uttering words that she didn’t understand. No matter how hard she tried, she caught only a few disconnected words. She quickly gave up and concentrated on listening to the beat instead as she danced with the others.
    Every once in a while during the evening she had looked for him. Several times she thought she caught a glimpse of his face, but the next second she realized that she was mistaken. She wondered why he hadn’t shown up. Jonas distracted her by offering her a cold beer, which she gratefully accepted.
    * * *
    Several hours later she was sitting squeezed in between Mark and Jonas, and she realized that she was very drunk. Some of their group had gathered on the hotel porch to continue partying with the bikers. It was still hot, even though it was almost one in the morning. Martina had given up hoping that he would appear. At least he could have called her. She dug around in her bag for her cell phone, only to discover that it was missing. Oh well. It was probably somewhere in the grass. She would look for it later. She downed the rest of her drink and got up to go to the bathroom, which was near the main entrance, around the corner.
    She had a craving for a cigarette, but she had run out and the pub didn’t sell them. She had a whole carton up in her room, and she decided to go get a pack.
    After using the toilet, she headed over to the youth hostel. She could hear everyone merrily laughing and talking on the porch. Someone was strumming on a guitar.
    When she came out onto the path that ran along the sea, she realized how deserted the area was. She hadn’t noticed before that there were no buildings nearby. The desolation was palpable. Bushes and trees lined the path, and from the darkness that was finally descending, she could hear the crickets’ invisible orchestra.
    On the other side of the water, machines were screeching from the nightly work going on at the harbor. A truck fully loaded with timber drove along the wharf, past the white wind-power station, whose blades were hesitantly turning in the feeble wind. A monstrous crane with a huge iron claw rose up into the air like some strange beast. The activity down at the harbor never seemed to cease.
    Farther along, the vegetation was thicker. The willow trees on either side had been allowed to grow unchecked. Their curving branches stretched over the path and reached for each other like lovers hungry for an embrace. They formed a natural tunnel, which, in the solitude of the night, seemed frightening. Martina had sobered up as she walked, and now she regretted that she had come out here alone.
    She turned around and realized that the distance back to the others was farther than it was to her room. She might as well keep going. Besides, she had such a craving for a cigarette. She walked faster, doing her best to shake off the feeling of uneasiness.
    After she had gone partway into the tunnel of trees, she discovered a silhouette outlined against the light at the exit, about thirty yards ahead. Fear gripped her, and her mind was suddenly stone-cold sober. The figure was coming straight toward her, getting bigger with every step.
    She suppressed her first impulse to turn around, squinting her eyes to see better. At first she wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman. All she could see was a dark figure wearing a cap, a black jacket, and black pants.
    No footsteps were audible. The ground was damper here.
    The second she realized that it was a man coming toward her, terror lurched in her stomach.
    He was walking with his head bowed, and the bill of his cap hid his face.
    Mechanically she continued moving forward—as if there were no going back, no alternative. Her thoughts rushed around in her head like frightened sparrows. What was he doing here, in the middle of the night? The concert had ended long ago. Panic shot up inside her, without enabling her to act. Like a robot, she walked forward, rigidly programmed for her own doom.
    She didn’t dare glance up to see his face now that he was so close. The second they passed each other, she stopped breathing. He was several inches away from touching her arm. She sensed a rank, slightly stale smell that she couldn’t place.
    To her surprise he walked past and nothing happened.
    The distance between them grew. The stranger continued on at the same pace, getting