Karl looks at the ferry that’s finally coming in, then glances up at the rear-view mirror. The line behind him is so long now only half of the cars are likely to make this departure. Another glance at the ferry, which has now docked and is pitching wildly in the choppy waters, and then one at the staff waving their arms at the cars disembarking. Through the window, Karl can see them shouting at each other and pointing up at a part of the ferry hidden behind the noticeboard.

Just then, it lights up again:

Service cancelled until further notice. Technical problems.

Abuse of power or not, Karl opens the door and climbs out. The snow has stopped, but the wind has picked up more than he realised. The gusts are powerful enough to take his breath away.

‘How long?’ he shouts, approaching one of the orange vests with his police badge held out in front of him.

‘No bloody idea. See for yourself,’ he replies and points. ‘The whole thing’s coming apart.’

And when Karl turns around and looks at the ferry, he realises it’s going to be a long time before Ingrid forgives him. The bridge is listing visibly, buffeted this way and that by the wind, looking as though it’s about to topple.

‘They’ve redirected one of the Frisel ferries, but it’s going to take hours to get here in this weather. You’re all going to have to turn around.’

Karl turns to look at the queue; the people at the back have given up and are putting their cars in reverse. With a sigh, he walks back to his car, climbs in behind the wheel and stares up at the rear-view mirror.

Nothing happens. None of the cars behind him are moving. But he can hear an increasingly strident chorus of horns and angry voices. With a stream of curses, Karl Björken opens his door and climbs back out. This time, his badge receives a warmer welcome.

‘Great, can you get some of your people over here to help out?’ one of the orange vests asks.

‘What the fuck’s going on? Why can’t people just back up?’

‘Because there’s a big bloody Ford blocking the way. Some woman lost it and just took off, apparently. And she took the keys with her. I guess we’re going to have to call someone to come tow it.’

Karl peers down the line of cars, but he can’t see a Ford from where he is.

‘Or hot-wire it,’ he says. ‘It’ll be a lot faster.’

With a sigh, he starts walking toward the back of the queue, picking his way down the narrow space between the steel railing, open car doors and annoyed drivers.