The coordinates indicated a point right in the middle of a nature preserve, Björndalens Naturreservat. The GPS gadget in his hand helped Maille to negotiate the forest. Spruce trees, beeches and birches fought for a place in the sunlight; the forest floor was full of puddles, squelchy and swampy, in which the mud would sometimes suddenly acquire deep indents under his tread. He reached a small pond that was a dark rusty-black in colour and surrounded by trees. And that, according to Maille's gadget, was precisely the point of intersection between length and breadth – bang in the middle of the water, roughly 2 or 3 metres away from the banks. So that was it. That was the place for which he had spent 2 days sitting in airplanes and airports, spent long hours cruising through the Baltic Sea in ferries and taxis and ultimately wading through a partial swamp. That was the «proof» for the operational efficiency of the «machine», as it was called on Zhang's banknote. That was it. However, what was it? There was nothing other than the dark water-pond and the few water lilies rising from its surface – colourful vagaries in an otherwise stark nature preserve.

The pond was far from inviting – but perhaps the solution lay below its surface, on the floor of the dark pool. Maille braced his heart, promised himself a luxurious evening meal and plunged into the water.