He had experienced mishaps before. Drugged animals that staggered into rapids and were swept away. Vomit and swallowed tongues. These things happened. But this was different. All eyes were on them this time. If this wolf didn’t make it, they would be in for it. From every direction. Even the hunters who wanted zero wolves in the country, preferably not even in zoos, would lay into them. Most of their ire would be directed at the Environmental Protection Agency, naturally, at Åsa, to be precise, if it was true that she had lobbied for the relocation, but internally, the spotlight would be turned on him and Geir. On Geir in particular. He, of course, had the option of retreating into the haven known as his native Norway. Anders had nowhere to hide. He would be told he was nothing but a lowly field technician with a dart gun he was not fit to operate. There were many within the veterinary field who felt a veterinary degree should be a requirement for tranquillising animals and this would provide one more argument for them to point to. It would be insinuated that he had messed up. This would reach him in the form of jokes and barbed comments, which was actually worse, because you couldn’t defend yourself against that.

‘The car behind us,’ Geir said. ‘Hasn’t it been there for an awfully long time?’

Anders’ eyes shifted to the headlights in the rear-view mirror.

‘You’re being paranoid, Geir.’

He said it quietly, to underline that he did not want any tension in the car. His own anxiety was simmering just below the surface. Against his will, he was now picturing an armed mob. Merciless men, maybe masked. Like a bloody western. It was not entirely unlikely. He knew that. Wolf-hatred was fierce and ran deep. At times, he wondered if it was genetic, if there were men who hated wolves. Besides, he couldn’t deny that there were rational reasons for stopping them. An intervention of this kind would draw no end of attention, and would once again highlight the absurdity of transporting wolves halfway across the country at enormous expense to the taxpayer.

‘Listen to me, Anders. They want us dead.’

It was such a weird thing to say Anders pretended not to have heard at first. But the words hung in the air and after a while he had to ask what Geir had meant by them.

Geir didn’t reply and seemed so paranoid Anders realised he had to calm him down. They were not being followed. The roads were practically empty, so it made good sense to keep a constant distance to the car in front, wouldn’t he agree? But the Norwegian was not persuaded; he didn’t even seem to be listening; he just stared into the wing mirror and the headlights that were burnt into it.