Three Seconds

understand, this bastard, he shouldn’t have any guns at all, even less a licence issued by us. OK, it’s ten years ago, but … given the conviction … I’ve never heard of such a serious criminal being given a permit.’
    Nils Krantz was still standing in front of the metal cupboard. It was never easy to know if his colleague was done with thumping inanimate objects.
    ‘You’ll have to talk to him then.’
    ‘I’m going to. When I find out where he is.’
    ‘In Aspsås.’
    Ewert Grens looked at the forensic scientist who was one of the few people who had been in the building as long as he had.
    ‘Aspsås?’
    ‘That’s where he’s doing his time. And it’s a long sentence, I believe.’
    __________
    He had sat in his new place in the TV corner this afternoon again and waited until his neighbours came back from the workshop and classroom one by one. They had played more stud poker and a couple of games of casino and talked about the bastard screws who had been on duty that morning and quite a bit about a bank job in Täby that had gone wrong and then got engrossed in a passionate discussion about how many times you could wank on a gram of injected amphetamine. They had laughed raucously at several graphic descriptions of a speed hard-on, and Stefan as well as Karol Tomasz and a couple of Finns had bragged about having a boner and fucking for days, as long as there was enough strong whizz. After a while, Piet had given the Greek a vague nod and offered him a chair without getting any response; the man whosold and controlled the supply here, who had the highest status wasn’t prepared to talk to a fish.
     
    A couple of hours more.
    The plastic bag would be sitting there behind the curtain rail and the hard fuckwit wouldn’t know what had hit him before it was over.
    __________
    Ewert Grens stood behind his desk clutching the telephone receiver even though the conversation had finished some time ago now. He was holding a piece of paper that was stained with coffee and almond slice crumbs.
     
    Nils Krantz had been right.
    The name at the bottom of his short list
was
already in prison.
    He had been caught with three kilos of amphetamine in his car boot, had been held on remand and in record time had been convicted and taken to the prison at Aspsås.
    Amphetamine that smelt of flowers.
    A distinct scent of tulip.
    __________
    He lay down on the hard bunk and smoked a cigarette. It was several years now since he’d rolled his own – not since the days when there were no children, as both he and Zofia had stopped the day they saw a centimetre-long life on a monitor; something that was barely visible but which was affected by every breath they took. He was restless, smoked too fast and soon lit another … it was hell just lying here waiting.
     
    He got up, listened, his ear to the hard cell door.
    Nothing.
    He heard sounds that weren’t there. Maybe the faint clunking that frequently came from the pipes in the ceiling. Maybe someone’s TV. He’d chosen not to have one so that he didn’t need to participate in the world outside.
    If everything went according to plan, they would come any minute.
    He lay down again, a third cigarette, it was good just to hold something in his hand. Quarter to eight. It was only quarter of an hour since lock-up, and normally it took about half an hour – they usually waited until everyone had settled.
    Everything was in place, just as he wanted it. He had had finalconfirmation in the bathroom that evening when the screws were waiting for everyone to go back to their cells. Both the plastic bags that until recently had been stowed some metres down one of the toilets’ waste pipes at the end of a piece of elastic were now in Block H, hidden behind two curtain rails.
    Now.
    He was absolutely certain.
    Dogs barking eagerly, black shoes slapping on the corridor floor.
    You’ll get my name and personal details. So that you can put me in the right prison, give me the right work and make sure that at lock-up time exactly two days after I’ve arrived, there will be an extensive spot check of every cell in the prison.
    Further down the corridor, the first cell doors were flung open.
    Loud voices clashed as one of the Finns started to shout and one of the screws screamed even louder.
    It took twenty-five minutes and eight cells before they got to him and a hand threw open his door.
    ‘Inspection.’
    ‘You can suck my cock, you fucking screw.’
    ‘Out of the cell,