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Chapters (99)
  1. MOTIVE X
  2. The Fabian Risk Thrillers
  3. MOTIVE X
  4. Copyright Page
  5. Contents
  6. Prologue
  7. PART I
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. PART II
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. 73
  82. 74
  83. 75
  84. 76
  85. 77
  86. 78
  87. 79
  88. 80
  89. 81
  90. 82
  91. 83
  92. 84
  93. 85
  94. 86
  95. 87
  96. 88
  97. About the author and translator
  98. Acknowledgements
  99. An Invitation from the Publisher

She had been so busy trying to win, the thought hadn’t occurred to her until now.

What if that was him. What if he was just sitting there, biding his time. Making sure he kept just the right amount of distance to avoid being noticed, but close enough to enjoy her descent into madness.

She looked out of the window. They were on their way into the tunnel, so they’d soon be arriving at Knutpunkten, where everyone would get off. The most important thing was to make sure she alighted before everyone else. So she got up and went over to the doors without succumbing to the urge to look over her shoulder.

The train slowed down. In a moment, the doors would open so she could dash across the platform, up through the departure hall and out the other side, then continue across Järnvägsgatan and in among the buildings, melting into the crowd.

She counted the seconds just to have something to do while she waited and heard someone come up right behind her. As the train came to a halt, she couldn’t stop herself turning around and looking straight into that brown smile.

Then the doors opened and she could finally hurl herself out and run away. No looking over her shoulder now. Just follow the plan, get up the escalators, through the concourse and out the other side. But running proved impossible. There were people everywhere. Travellers were pouring in from every direction. But there was nothing for it. She had to press on, push and shove and not care about the people shouting after her.

It was the same on Järnvägsgatan. People everywhere, people whose one purpose in life was to get in her way. And once more, she yielded to the instinct to look behind her as she stepped right out into the street.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards, away from the bike lane, thereby saving her from being run over by a cyclist in bright Lycra. She felt a sudden sting in her right buttock.

‘Careful, you’ll get run over,’ said a voice she thought she recognized. When she turned around, she saw a man in black she’d never seen before.

‘They don’t stop for anything around here.’

But how come she’d recognized his voice? They’d never met before. Or had they? Right, it was him, the man on the Vespa who had shouted at her when she crossed the street. He must have followed her all the way from Landskrona.

Without thinking, she kneed him in the crotch, wrenched free of his grasp and bolted across the bike lane and Järnvägsgatan. Cars were honking all around her, but she raced on up Präsgatan towards Bruksgatan, even though in her heart of hearts she knew it was pointless.

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