His security apparatus, set up specifically to remove all obstacles, had made fatal errors, and people who once were silent were now sounding off.It was as though, amid all the recent triumphs of his Purity Party, disasters were now queuing up to happen, snapping at him and his life’s foundation like rabid dogs.Why had they been unable to stop those two policemen? It was imperative it be done. Mikael, Lønberg, and Caspersen had all promised to do their utmost, and yet they had failed.Beate’s face twitched almost imperceptibly yet sufficiently to make him jump.He looked at his bony hand as he stroked her cheek and felt strangely at odds with himself. It seemed almost to merge with her skin, so slight was the difference between her aging and his. But in a few hours she would be dead and he still alive. That was the issue he had to address, if indeed he wanted to live at all. And at this moment he did not. But he had to. There were jobs to be taken care of, but when they were done he would find a headstone, and the mason would carve not one name, but two.A sudden, urgent noise came from his bedside table.
