Three Seconds

the middle and the second last on the right.
    ‘You can keep the others.’
    Hoffmann put the remaining seventy-eight tins back in the hiding place in the fan heater while Henryk peeled off the protecting foil from the three that were left and the loft filled with a scent of tulips that was so strong it was almost unbearable.
    A yellow, solid lump at the bottom of each tin.
    Manufactured amphetamine cut with two parts grape sugar.
    Henryk opened his black briefcase and set up some simple scales beside a stand with test tubes, a scalpel and a pipette. One thousand and eighty-seven grams. A kilo of amphetamine plus the weight of the tin. He nodded to Hoffmann, it was exact.
    Henryk used the scalpel to scrape at one of the lumps until a piece no bigger than would fit in the first test tube loosened. He put the pipette into the second test tube, which contained phenylacetone and paraffin, sucked up the fluid and then released it over the loose bit of amphetamine, shook the test tube a couple of times. He waited for a minute or two, then held the test tube up to the window: a clear bluish fluid equalled strong amphetamine, a dark cloudy fluid meant the opposite.
    ‘Three or four times?’
    ‘Three.’
    ‘Looks good.’
    Henryk sealed the tin with the foil and closed the lid, repeated the same procedure with the two others, looked again at the bluish clear fluid and, satisfied, asked his Swedish colleague to put them back in the heater, then hammer the band back in place until they heard the clicking noise that told them that the ventilation pipe was whole again.
    The door to the loft was locked properly from the outside. Six flights of stairs down to the asphalt of Vasagatan. They walked in silence.
    The Deputy CEO was still sitting at the same table.
    A new half glass of orange juice in front of him.
    Hoffmann waited by the long reception desk while Henryk sat down next to Wojtek’s number two.
    Clear bluish fluid.
    Eighty-one kilos of cut amphetamine.
    The Deputy CEO turned round and nodded. Piet Hoffmann felt something relax in the pit of his stomach as he walked across the expensive hotel lobby.
    ‘All those bloody bits. They just get stuck to your teeth.’
    The Deputy CEO pointed to his half empty glass of juice and ordered two more. The waitress was young and smiled at them, just as she smiled at all the guests who gave her a hundred-kronor tip and might well order again.
    ‘I will be leading the operation on the outside. You’re leading inside, from Kumla, Hall or Aspsås. Maximum security Swedish prisons.’
    ‘I need a coffee.’
    A double espresso. The young waitress smiled again.
    ‘It was a long night.’
    He looked at the Deputy CEO who paused.
    It could be a demonstration of power. Maybe it was.
    ‘Nights sometimes are. Long.’
    The Deputy CEO smiled. He wasn’t looking for respect. He was looking for a strength he could trust.
    ‘Right now we’ve got four people in Aspsås, and three in both Hall and Kumla. In different sections, but they’re able to communicate. I want you to be arrested within the week for a crime that is serious enough to merit a sentence in one of them.’
    ‘Two months. Then I’m done.’
    ‘You’ll be given all the time you need.’
    ‘I don’t want more. But I do want a guarantee. That you’ll get me out at exactly that point.’
    ‘Don’t worry.’
    ‘A guarantee.’
    ‘We’ll get you out.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘We’ll look after your family when you’re inside. And when you’re done, we’ll look after you. New life, new identity, money to start over again.’
    The lobby of the Sheraton was still empty.
    Those who had come to the capital on business wouldn’t check in until the evening. Those who had come in search of museums and monuments were already out and about with a fast-talking guide and new Nike trainers.
    He had finished his coffee. He motioned to the reception, another double espresso and one of those little mint wafers.
    ‘Three kilos.’
    The Deputy CEO put his glass of juice down next to the others.
    He was listening.
    ‘I’ll be caught with three kilos. I’ll be questioned and plead guilty. I’ll explain that I’m working on my own, so I get a short remand as charges can be brought immediately. I’ll be given a substantial sentenceby the city court – three kilos of amphetamine is a priority crime in Swedish courts, and I’ll say that I accept the sentence, so I won’t have to wait until it enters into force. If everything goes