The Beast Read Online Free PDF Page A

room with all that kit on.'
        Ulrik
gestured at Lund, at the chain across his stomach. It was part of a transfer
waist-restraint, complete with leg- irons. He had never had to use one before.
Body-belts, yes. Still, it was an order. Oscarsson had phoned up about it, made
a special point. Told to undress, Lund had smiled and waggled his hips. He was
fitted out with a metal belt round his waist, joined to the leg-irons with four
chains running down his legs and to the handcuffs with two chains along his
torso and arms. Ulrik had seen these things on TV and once for real, during a
study visit to India. Never in Sweden. Here, the main idea was to control
offenders by outnumbering them. More guards than villains. Sometimes handcuffs,
of course, but not chains inside shirt and trousers.
        'How
caring. Thanks a lot. You're great guys.'
        Lund
was speaking quietly. He was barely audible. Ulrik had no idea if what he said
was meant to be ironic. Then Lund shifted position, chains clanking against
each other, until he was leaning forward with his head resting on the frame of
the glazed hatch separating the front seats from the back of the van.
        'Listen,
you two. This is no good. I've got chains up my arse. Get me out of this
fucking tin body-belt and I give you my word I won't run.'
        Åke
stared at him in the mirror. He speeded up suddenly, shot along the slope up to
the Casualty entrance and then stood on the brakes.
        Lund's
chin crashed against the sharp edge of the hatch.
        'Fucking
screws! What the fuck's that for? You cunts!'
        Usually
Lund spoke calmly and sounded quite educated. Until he felt got at. Then he
swore. Åke knew that. It wasn't just that they all looked alike. They were alike.
        Ulrik
was laughing, but only inside. That bugger Andersson, he wasn't quite right in
the head. He kept doing stuff like this, but refused to say a word.
        'Too
bad,' he said. 'Nothing doing, it's Oscarsson's orders. You see, Lund, you're
classed as dangerous. A danger to society. So you'd better lump it.'
        Ulrik
found it difficult to utter all this. The words seemed to have a will of their
own, pushing their way out of his mouth despite his straining facial muscles,
tensed to hold back the rumbling laughter inside. If it slipped out and was
heard, it would provoke their passenger even more. He spoke, but afterwards,
following Andersson's example, stared silently straight ahead.
        'If
we take the tinsel off you, we'd be ignoring Oscarsson's express order. And
that's against the regulations. You know that.'
        The
ambulance that had overtaken them was parked next to the ramp outside Casualty.
Two male paramedics were running up the stairs to the entrance, two steps at a
time, carrying a stretcher. Ulrik caught a glimpse of a woman; the blood in her
long hair made it stick to the leg of one of the paramedics. Orange and red
don't go together, he thought, wondering why they wore orange, they must get
blood on their uniforms pretty often. Being upset always made his mind wander.
        'Oscarsson's
an arsehole! He's fucking lost it. Why won't that motherfucker believe me? I
said I won't run! I told him at Aspsås!'
        Lund
was shouting through the hatch, then backed away only to throw himself against the
windowless wall. The chains of his restraint thumped against the metal side of
the van, making Åke momentarily think he'd hit something, turn to look for
another vehicle that wasn't there.
        'I
fucking told him, you bastards! So you didn't know? OK, here's another deal. If
you don't get this lot of chain- mail off me, I'll be away. Get that, cunts?
I'll walk. Understood?'
        Åke
tried to meet his eyes. He adjusted the mirror to find Lund. He sensed the
hatred welling up; he had to hit him, that scum had gone too far, had just said
'cunt' once too often.
        Thirty-two
years. A job a job a job. But he couldn't hack it any more.