The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

finger to his lips and whispered, ‘Shh. My mother is such a light sleeper.’ Then he cast a glance over his shoulder before grabbing his bicycle, which was parked just inside the fence.
    The next second they were on their way. They pedalled hard, riding along side by side since there were no cars on the road. Two skinny thirteen-year-olds with scraped knees, filled with anticipation. They’d fastened their nets and buckets to the bike panniers. They headed to theshore just beyond the harbour. But it wasn’t fish that they were going to catch.
    Ventspils was a run-down little town about 160 kilometres west of the capital of Riga, but its harbour was one of the biggest in Latvia. It was considerably oversized in comparison to the modest town with only fifty thousand inhabitants, but it was strategically located, close to both Sweden and Finland and right on the mouth of the Venta River, in the direct path of the Russian natural-gas pipeline. For that reason it had expanded rapidly and become one of the largest ports on the Baltic Sea. The town hadn’t kept up with its growth.
    The boys passed the two piers that extended into the outer harbour like protective arms, breaking the waves and embracing visitors from the sea. At the end of each pier stood a lighthouse guarding the entrance. To the south a promenade had been built and it was very popular because it also provided a vantage point with an impressive view. At the moment nobody was there.
    The long sandy beach began just beyond the south pier and stretched for several kilometres. The sand was coarse and the water quite murky. Rubbish was scattered about: ice-cream wrappers, plastic bottles and pieces of rusty old junk. But it was still a popular place for people to sunbathe in the summertime. The people who lived in Ventspils were not very particular.
    When the boys reached the beach, they found it deserted except for a few seagulls strutting about in search of something to eat. The strong winds of the night had subsided, and the hesitant rays of the sun were growing stronger. It was just past seven o’clock, and the fishing boats that were usually moored at the dock had already gone out to sea.
    Janis and Bruno knew that they had to get an early start if they were to have any luck at all. A few days earlier a woman from the area had found a piece of amber that weighed over a kilo at this very spot on the beach. And interest in looking for the amber had increased considerably.
    They flung their bicycles down on the sand, picked up their buckets and nets, and squelched along the water’s edge in their ungainly sea boots. Sometimes it was possible to find several hectograms of amber in one dayafter a strong wind. The amber was torn away from the sea floor or seaweed and tossed on to shore by the surging waves.
    Eagerly the two boys searched the beach. Hunched over and with their eyes fixed on the ground, they scanned the shore, centimetre by centimetre. Every once in a while they talked about how they would spend the money they were going to get for the amber. If they were lucky.
    A little later Bruno called to Janis, who assumed that he must have found some amber. He turned around expectantly to look at his friend, who had stopped some distance away. Bruno was pointing out towards the water.
    ‘Look at that!’ he yelled.
    An empty rowing boat was bobbing on the waves. It looked old and leaky, with a rusty motor at the stern. The rowlocks were empty. It had obviously been drifting about, probably after the high winds of the night had torn it from its mooring.
    ‘Let’s bring it in,’ suggested Bruno. ‘Maybe we can keep it.’
    ‘It’d be great to have our own boat! Then we could go out fishing and put out nets,’ exclaimed Janis. He pictured the two of them setting out to sea. If they were lucky, nobody would lay claim to the boat. It had probably come from far away, drifting out of Riga Bay and continuing south along the coast. It looked so decrepit that the owner might not make much of an effort to track it down.
    Bruno waded out into the water until it reached way over the tops of his boots. He reached for the prow and pulled on the boat. Janis hurried forward to help, but then stopped abruptly. Bruno heard his friend breathing hard.
    In the bottom of the boat lay a gaunt old man, curled up in a foetal position. He was wearing a dark-blue woollen pullover and black trousers. His head was half hidden under one arm, but it was clear that he was