Borderline
“‘How are you getting on?’ Anders Schyman asked.
‘Things are moving, I think,’ Annika said. ‘Unlike the traffic.’ She was thirsty, and needed the toilet.
‘Have you delivered the ransom?’ ‘Not yet.’ ‘How do things look?’ No pavements, brownish-red soil, patched-up tarmac. Rubbish piled beside the roads, crumpled plastic and broken glass, paper and cardboard. Electricity cables strung between the trees, like lianas. But that probably wasn’t what he meant. ‘We’ve been sent to the wrong place a few times,’ she said. ‘But now we’re on our way to a fourth location. We think this may be the one where we hand over the money.’ ‘I’ve just had Wennergren here. He’s worried about the newspaper’s investment.’ Annika shut her eyes tight. ‘And what am I supposed to say to that?’ ‘I have to report back to the board, tell them how it’s going.’ ‘The old bastard could always have a chat with the kidnapper once Thomas is free, maybe ask for a refund.’ Silence on the line.
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