Read Online Bubble: A Thriller by Anders de La Motte - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anders de La Motte
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felt like a stranger, someone who didn’t belong there. She couldn’t help glancing at the little spherical cameras on the ceiling and did her best to stay as far away from them as possible.
She turned off right into a yellow-painted corridor. At the far end she stopped at a broad metal door with a small white sign.
Confiscated Goods Division.
She held Ludvig’s card up against the reader.
A bleep, but nothing happened. Shit!
She tried again, slower this time.
Another bleep, and this time the lock began to whirr.
Calm now, Normén!
She stepped inside a small reception area. A short distance behind the counter sat an older, slightly fat man with a bowl cut. A television screen affixed to the wall was showing a horse race, and the man made an irritated face when he was obliged to look away from it.
“Hi, Sune,” she said, with exaggerated bonhomie.
“No, no, you stay where you are, I’ll be okay on my own,” she went on when the man made a halfhearted attempt to stand up.
“Just need to double-check some stuff we seized last week.”
“Good,” the overweight man muttered, letting his heavy frame sink back into his chair. “Don’t forget to sign your-self in . . .”
He waved his hand toward the counter as he turned his attention back to the television screen.
Rebecca pulled the register over and scrawled something illegible in place of her name.
“Done!”
Without looking away from the screen, Sunesson raisedone hand and pressed a button on top of his desk. The door to Rebecca’s right buzzed and a few moments later she found herself in a large storeroom filled with racks of metal shelving.
It was several years since she had last been there, and she took a few tentative steps forward as she tried to get her bearings. The smell was exactly the same as she remembered, cool air mixed with cardboard and whitewashed concrete. A few meters away against one wall was a standard-issue computer and she hurried over to it.
She took out Runeberg’s pass card and inserted it into the little box beside the keyboard. Then she quickly typed in Runeberg’s user ID and password.
The hourglass on the screen rotated and then the database opened up.
Henrik Pettersson, she typed into the search box for names, then added his date of birth in the next box.
She pressed Search and the hourglass rotated once, then twice.
Rebecca looked around, but she was alone in the large room.
She could hear the sound of Sunesson’s television in the distance. The hourglass vanished and was replaced by a line of text.
Case number K3429302-12, Section 5, Row 47, shelf 23-25.
The store was actually larger than she remembered, and it took her a couple of minutes to work out where to go.
The main aisle ran along one of the outer walls, with various smaller passageways leading off into the different sections.
Section 5 was at the far end of the store, where the light was much dimmer than it was closer to the entrance.
Only every other fluorescent lamp was lit, and she guessed there would be a switch somewhere to correct that, but she didn’t have time to look for it.
The racks of shelving all around her stretched up to the ceiling, and they were almost all loaded with brown cardboard boxes that seemed to soak up the already dim light.
On the floor were pallets laden with things that were too big to fit on the shelves, and as she walked toward the right section she had to walk past items of furniture, rolls of cable, and part of what looked like a bronze sculpture.
Four of the boxes on shelf 23 were marked with the right case number. She pulled down the one closest to her and opened the lid.
The box was full of books and films, which explained why it was so heavy. She closed it and put it back on the shelf.
The next box turned out to contain exactly the same sort of thing, but the third looked more promising. A few files, random documents, and, at the bottom—bingo!
A large bunch of keys, fifty or so, just as the case
She turned off right into a yellow-painted corridor. At the far end she stopped at a broad metal door with a small white sign.
Confiscated Goods Division.
She held Ludvig’s card up against the reader.
A bleep, but nothing happened. Shit!
She tried again, slower this time.
Another bleep, and this time the lock began to whirr.
Calm now, Normén!
She stepped inside a small reception area. A short distance behind the counter sat an older, slightly fat man with a bowl cut. A television screen affixed to the wall was showing a horse race, and the man made an irritated face when he was obliged to look away from it.
“Hi, Sune,” she said, with exaggerated bonhomie.
“No, no, you stay where you are, I’ll be okay on my own,” she went on when the man made a halfhearted attempt to stand up.
“Just need to double-check some stuff we seized last week.”
“Good,” the overweight man muttered, letting his heavy frame sink back into his chair. “Don’t forget to sign your-self in . . .”
He waved his hand toward the counter as he turned his attention back to the television screen.
Rebecca pulled the register over and scrawled something illegible in place of her name.
“Done!”
Without looking away from the screen, Sunesson raisedone hand and pressed a button on top of his desk. The door to Rebecca’s right buzzed and a few moments later she found herself in a large storeroom filled with racks of metal shelving.
It was several years since she had last been there, and she took a few tentative steps forward as she tried to get her bearings. The smell was exactly the same as she remembered, cool air mixed with cardboard and whitewashed concrete. A few meters away against one wall was a standard-issue computer and she hurried over to it.
She took out Runeberg’s pass card and inserted it into the little box beside the keyboard. Then she quickly typed in Runeberg’s user ID and password.
The hourglass on the screen rotated and then the database opened up.
Henrik Pettersson, she typed into the search box for names, then added his date of birth in the next box.
She pressed Search and the hourglass rotated once, then twice.
Rebecca looked around, but she was alone in the large room.
She could hear the sound of Sunesson’s television in the distance. The hourglass vanished and was replaced by a line of text.
Case number K3429302-12, Section 5, Row 47, shelf 23-25.
The store was actually larger than she remembered, and it took her a couple of minutes to work out where to go.
The main aisle ran along one of the outer walls, with various smaller passageways leading off into the different sections.
Section 5 was at the far end of the store, where the light was much dimmer than it was closer to the entrance.
Only every other fluorescent lamp was lit, and she guessed there would be a switch somewhere to correct that, but she didn’t have time to look for it.
The racks of shelving all around her stretched up to the ceiling, and they were almost all loaded with brown cardboard boxes that seemed to soak up the already dim light.
On the floor were pallets laden with things that were too big to fit on the shelves, and as she walked toward the right section she had to walk past items of furniture, rolls of cable, and part of what looked like a bronze sculpture.
Four of the boxes on shelf 23 were marked with the right case number. She pulled down the one closest to her and opened the lid.
The box was full of books and films, which explained why it was so heavy. She closed it and put it back on the shelf.
The next box turned out to contain exactly the same sort of thing, but the third looked more promising. A few files, random documents, and, at the bottom—bingo!
A large bunch of keys, fifty or so, just as the case
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