Three Seconds

tied well enough and then hurried over to the wall that separated the storeroom from the rest of the workshop, managed to get the old warden up, forced him to walk in front of him across the floor to one of the cameras that was pointing to the wall – he turned it and made sure that the whole of his mouth and the warden’s was clear when he spoke.
     
    __________
    He leant forwards as he walked, dressed in a white and grey camouflage uniform. He was in his forties and had introduced himself as Sterner.
     
    ‘I can’t do this.’
    As they walked over to the church and then went up the stairs and the aluminium ladder, Ewert Grens had described a hostage drama that was out of control and might culminate in a shot from the church tower.
    ‘Can’t? What the hell do you mean?’
    The military marksman who, for another five hours and thirty-eight minutes would legally serve as a policeman, had emerged onto the narrow balcony and switched places with one of the two men already lying there.
    ‘This is not a normal sniper rifle. It’s an M107. It’s a heavier, more powerful, anti-materiel rifle. For targeting buses. Or boats. Exploding mines.’
    He had greeted the colleague who was still there and would function as an observer.
    ‘Long distance. That was the information I was given. That was what I should be prepared for. But this— I can’t shoot at a soft target.’
    Holding the binoculars, he had observed Piet Hoffmann in one corner of the window and realised what this was all about.
    Now he looked at Grens.
    ‘I’m sorry, so he – that man there – is a
soft target
?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And … what exactly does that mean?’
    ‘It means that the ammunition that I have with me is fire and explosive ammo, and can’t be used for a person.’
    Grens laughed – at least that was what it sounded like: a short, irritated laugh.
    ‘So … what the hell are you doing here?’
    ‘The firing distance is fifteen hundred and three metres. That was the job I was given.’
    ‘
The job you were given
was to prevent someone from taking the lives of two other people. Or, if you prefer it – one soft target taking the life of another soft target.’
    Sterner focused the binoculars on the hostage taker, he was still standing in the same place by the window, exposing himself, and it was hard to understand why.
    ‘I’m just complying with international law.’
    ‘A law …
for Christ’s sake, Sterner
… they’re made up by peoplewho hide behind desks! But this … this is reality. And if the guy who is standing there,
the soft target
, the one who is our reality right now, if he’s not stopped, other people will die. And both of them and their nearest and dearest will presumably be extremely pleased to know that you are complying with … what was it now …
international law
.’
    The binoculars’ zoom was powerful and despite the fact that his hands were moving in the wind, it was easy to follow the man who had long fair hair and sometimes turned and looked down at something – the hostages, Sterner was sure of it – that was lying on the floor close to him; that was where they were.
    ‘If I do what you want me to, if I fire at this sniper, with the ammo I’ve got here, he’ll lose his arms and legs. They’ll be blown clear off the body. There will be nothing left.’
    He lowered the binoculars and looked up at Grens.
    ‘You’ll find the soft target, the person – you’ll find body parts everywhere.’
    __________
    The face, the mouth, it was there again.
     
    The man in the blue crumpled guard uniform got up. The same monitor as the last time, the same camera that had been turned away from the concrete wall. Bergh was still warm but had switched off and moved the desk fan so that it was now by the wall in the small central security room – he needed more space in order to see properly when he linked up and transmitted the picture on all sixteen screens.
    The mouth was saying something, and then the other one, another person, Jacobson, naked and bound. The hostage taker was holding him and suddenly took a step back: he wanted to make sure that they could see that he had a miniature revolver to Jacobson’s head. And then he said the words again.
    Bergh didn’t need to rewind this time.
    He recognised the first words.
    He is a dead man.
    And the three last words were incredibly easy to interpret from the clear lip movements.
    In twenty minutes
    __________
    Sven Sundkvist ran up the church stairs