Book 2, Birger Wallenberg
Chapter 8ON THE EMPTY MOTORWAY to Falsterbo, Wallenberg kept to the speed limit. Half an hour later, he parked the bike at the edge of the boardwalk to the empty beach. Walking the broad strip of soft sand in the moonlight, he found the familiarity of lapping waves consoling. He had stayed out here untold nights, and never alone.
From the sand dunes below his family home, he spotted a police car up front. For ten minutes he stood under the canopy of trees by the back gate, in the shadow of a full moon. Slipping across the back garden he used his key. The police were not expecting a beach landing. They had left the garage unsealed and turned off the security control panel in the hall. As he passes through the gym, he picked up an old tennis bag, eyes adjusting to
