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Jasim stumbles and reaches his hand out towards the low railing, and sees the snow fall fifty metres onto the ice.

His torch hits something and goes out.

His heart is beating hard and Jasim peers forward again, but can no longer see the figure.

Fredrik calls him back and he turns round. His partner is pointing at him, but it’s impossible to hear what he’s saying. He looks scared, and starts to fumble with the holster of his pistol, and Jasim realises that he’s trying to warn him, that he was pointing at someone behind his back.

He turns round and gasps for breath.

Someone is crawling along the track straight towards him. Jasim backs away and tries to draw his pistol. The figure gets to its feet and sways. It’s a young man. He’s staring at the policemen with empty eyes. His bearded face is thin, his cheekbones sharp. He’s swaying and seems to be having trouble breathing.

‘Half of me is still underground,’ he pants.

‘Are you injured?’

‘Who?’

The young man coughs and falls to his knees again.