Page 229 of The Sleepwalker

The bridge is completely blocked.

Joona comes to a halt and attempts to back up, but has to stop almost immediately when another car appears behind him. Its dipped headlights slow, and there is a muffled thud. A third car has driven into the back of it, causing its lights to shakeand veer sharply to one side. The bonnet breaks through the fibreglass railing and hits the side panel.

Joona gets out of the car and realises there is a line of traffic behind him, stretching right back to the end of the bridge.

He runs over to the cars on the other side of the lorry. Despite having crashed, none of the vehicles seems too badly damaged.

A woman in a padded jacket is standing by one of the cars with a torch, talking to the man behind the wheel.

Joona walks over to her and asks her what is happening. His hair blows in all directions, the wind tugging at his clothes. The woman blinks repeatedly to keep the snow out of her eyes as she tells him that no one is seriously injured. Joona asks her to make sure no one is trapped in any of the cars, then to get everyone to walk over to Stäket.

‘Stick to the right and head to the Sisters of Saint Elizabeth.’

Joona runs past the damaged cars to the other side of the bridge. He scrambles down the slope by the abutment and continues along a narrow road, sheltered from the worst of the storm.

He clambers over fallen trees, passing houses with broken roofs and pieces of garden furniture and barbecues.

A trampoline has taken down the power lines, and is caught in the scrub at the side of the road.

Joona makes his way down to a small marina, running past a black pickup outside a small house.

The boats brought ashore for winter have all tipped over, crushing their stands and supports. The ropes tied to frozen water drums are tangled, and the torn tarpaulins are flapping in the wind.

The frothing waves hurl large shards of broken ice ashore.

Very little of the pontoon jetty is still standing.

Joona runs over to two men who are busy trying to haul a large black rigid inflatable boat up a steel ramp with a handwinch.

One of them – a stocky, bearded man in orange overalls, boots and a black hat – has his hands on the side of the boat, keeping it steady on the ramp.

The other, who has a grey ponytail, a black jacket and green trousers with leather patches on the knees, is cranking the winch as fast as he can.

‘Go, go!’

‘Police!’ Joona shouts, holding up his ID.

The man with the ponytail glances in his direction, but doesn’t stop. A large wave breaks over the boat, and the man with the beard comes close to losing his balance.

‘Control the wire!’

‘Listen, I need to borrow this boat,’ Joona tells them.

‘No chance,’ the man with the ponytail mutters.

‘It’s an emergency.’

‘Yeah, for everyone. Come back next summer,’ he replies, wiping the snow from his eyes.

‘What’s going on?’ the other man asks, moving closer.

The trunk of a nearby pine breaks and falls onto the clubhouse. Snow cascades from its branches, and broken roof tiles crash to the ground.

‘I need to borrow this boat,’ Joona repeats.

‘Borrow?’

‘It’s serious; there are lives at stake.’