Читать книгу The Sandman онлайн
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‘Now I can be happy again,’ Reidar whispers, stroking his son’s head.
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Disa is finally back in Stockholm again. She’s waiting in his flat, on the top floor of number 31 Wallingatan. Joona is on his way home from buying some turbot that he’s planning to fry and serve with remoulade sauce.
Alongside the railings the snow is piled about twenty centimetres deep. All the lights of the city look like misty lanterns.
As he passes Kammakargatan he hears agitated voices up ahead. This is a dark part of the city. Heaps of snow and rows of parked cars throw shadows. Dull buildings, streaked with melt-water.
‘I want my money,’ a man with a gruff voice is shouting.
There are two figures in the distance. They’re moving slowly along the railings towards the Dala steps. Joona carries on walking.
Two panting men are staring at each other, hunched, drunk and angry. One is wearing a chequered coat and a fur hat. In his hand is a small, shiny knife.
‘Fucking bastard,’ he rattles. ‘Fucking little—’
The other one has a full beard and a black overcoat with a tear on one shoulder, and is waving an empty wine-bottle in front of him.