Page 32 - Maj 2020 PDF

leaving the room and closing the door behind her, she keeps on staying in the

office; is there be a phone call? What is he talking about? Is there something on
the table, she hasn’t noticed before? Everything is of interest to her. The tall,

beautiful 64 year old woman could with all ease, just have withdrawn from work,

and lived off the money of her husband left for her, the professor.
Vince doesn’t take notice of her slow departure; he is buried deep down in the

report. He has become almost immune to her snooping around through the

years. Finally, the door shuts behind her with a click. He doesn't even look up,
but keeps his eyes fixed on his papers. Loud voices appear from other parts of

the building, as journalists and TV people arrive at the police station. He tries to
shake off the feeling of victimhood – this isn’t like him. He keeps staring at the

sheets with his wet and weary eyes. Three tightly written pages lay in front of

him. A summary of what the police have found so far: the cables of the power
supply have been cut and destroyed. The power-box, which not only supplied the

small amusement park and the Ferris wheel, but also the whole dock itself with

restaurants and arcades, has been totally darkened.
Another finding was that the emergency generators that should have worked in

case of a power failure didn’t work. Assistance from the regional electricity
company DG Electric had to be assembled. What felt like almost a miniature

army of service staff and technicians was summoned to help power up and

connect another emergency generator to light the area and get the huge Ferris
wheel running again, so that the traumatized guests would be able to feel safe.

The media will certainly ask about the emergency generator defunction; how

could it happen that the generator didn’t work? Where should the responsibility
be placed, and who oversaw the safety of the pier? The chief of police is

interrupted in his reading and thought-flow. There is a light knock on the door.

"Yes, come in."

The chief pats his forehead with one hand his other hand holds his Ronson

lighter askew beside his freshly made pipe head, which he puts in his mouth, so
that he can force the flame down on the tobacco.

"Oh my, is that you?" he says, standing up, while simultaneously loosening the
pipe and waving his hand to "come in". It's Mayor Frank Gustavson.