by Kepler, Lars
‘Yes, Dad,’ Mikael whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks.
‘Dear God in heaven,’ his father whispers, stroking his son’s head with a trembling hand. ‘Dear God in heaven.’
Mikael coughs violently, a cloud of blood billows into the tube and he gasps for air, then coughs again and lies there panting.
‘We were together the whole time, Dad. In the darkness, on the floor … but I left her.’
Mikael falls silent, as though every last drop of strength has been exhausted. His eyes suddenly seem clouded and tired.
Reidar looks at his son with a face that has lost all trace of stability and abandoned any attempt at a façade.
‘You have to tell us …’
His voice cracks, he takes a deep breath and then goes on:
‘Mikael, you know you have to tell us where she is so I can go and get her …’
‘She’s still there … Felicia’s still there,’ Mikael says weakly. ‘She’s still there. I can feel her, she’s scared …’
‘Mikael,’ Reidar pleads.
‘She’s scared, because she’s on her own … She can’t bear it, she always wakes up at night crying until she realises I’m there …’
Reidar feels his chest tighten. Big patches of sweat have formed under the arms of his shirt.
44
Reidar can hear what Mikael’s saying, but he’s still having trouble absorbing the significance. He stands beside his son’s bed, looking at him and speaking in a soothing voice.
But his thoughts are going round in circles, around one single idea. He has to find Felicia. She mustn’t be left on her own.
He stares into the middle distance, then walks heavily over to the window. Far below some sparrows are sitting in the bare rose bushes. Some dogs have pissed in the snow under a lamppost. Over at the bus stop a glove is lying beneath the bench.
Somewhere behind him he hears Joona Linna try to find out more from Mikael. His deep voice merges with the heavy thud of Reidar’s heartbeat.
You only see your mistakes in hindsight, and some of them are so painful that you can hardly live with yourself.
Reidar knows that he was an unfair father. That was never his intention, it just turned out that way.
Everyone always says that they love their children equally, he thinks. Yet we still treat them differently.
Mikael was his favourite.
Felicia always irritated him, and sometimes made him so angry that he frightened her. In hindsight it seemed incomprehensible. After all, he was an adult and she was just a child.
I shouldn’t have shouted at her, he thinks, staring out at the overcast sky and feeling that his left armpit is starting to really hurt now.
‘I can feel her the whole time,’ Mikael is telling Joona. ‘Now she’s just lying there on the floor … she’s so terrified.’
Reidar lets out a groan as he feels a burst of pain in his chest. Sweat is running down his neck. Joona rushes over to him, grabs the top of his arm and says something.
‘It’s nothing,’ Reidar says.
‘Does your chest hurt?’ Joona asks.
‘I’m just tired,’ he replies quickly.
‘You seem—’
‘I have to find Felicia,’ he says.
A burning pain shoots through his jaw and he feels another stab in his chest. He falls, hitting his cheek against the radiator, but all he can think is how he shouted at Felicia and told her she was useless the day she disappeared.
He gets to his knees and is trying to crawl as he hears Joona come back into the room with a doctor.
45
Joona talks to Reidar’s doctor, then returns to Mikael’s room, hangs his jacket on the hook behind the door, pulls up the only chair and sits down.
If it’s true that Felicia is still alive, then all of a sudden it really is urgent. Maybe there are even more captives? He has to get Mikael to talk about his memories.
An hour later Mikael wakes up. He opens his eyes slowly, squinting against the light. As Joona repeats that his father’s not in any danger, he shuts his eyes again.
‘I need to ask you a question,’ Joona says seriously.
‘My sister,’ he whispers.
Joona puts his mobile on the bedside table and starts to record.
‘Mikael, I have to ask you … Do you know who was holding you captive?’
‘It wasn’t like that …’
‘Like what?’
The boy’s breathing speeds up.
‘He just wanted us to sleep, that was all, we had to sleep …’
‘Who?’
‘The Sandman,’ Mikael whispers.
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing, I can’t go on …’
Joona looks down at his phone and checks that it’s recording the conversation.
‘I thought you mentioned the Sandman?’ he goes on. ‘You mean like Wee Willie Winkie, putting the children to sleep?’
Mikael looks him in the eye.
‘He’s real,’ he whispers. ‘He smells of sand, he sells barometers during the day.’
‘What does he look like?’
‘It’s always dark when he comes …’
‘You must have seen something, surely?’
Mikael shakes his head, sobbing silently as tears run down his cheeks and onto the pillow under his head.
‘Does the Sandman have another name?’ Joona asks.
‘I don’t know, he never says a word, he never spoke to us the whole time.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘I’ve only heard him in the darkness … his fingertips are made of porcelain and when he takes the sand out of the bag they tinkle against each other … and …’
Mikael’s mouth is moving, but no sound is coming out.
‘I can’t hear what you’re saying,’ Joona says quietly.
‘He throws sand in children’s faces … and a moment later they’re asleep.’
‘How do you know it’s a man?’ Joona asks.
‘I’ve heard him cough,’ Mikael replies seriously.
‘But you never saw him?’
‘No.’
46
A very beautiful woman with Indian features is standing looking down at Reidar when he comes round. She explains that he’s had a coronary spasm.
‘I thought I was having a heart attack,’ he mutters.
‘Naturally we’re considering X-raying the coronary arteries, and—’
‘Yes,’ he sighs, sitting up.
‘You need to rest.’
‘I found out … that my …’ he says, but his mouth starts to tremble so much that he can’t finish the sentence.
She puts her hand against his cheek and smiles as if he were an unhappy child.
‘I have to see my son,’ he explains is a slightly steadier voice.
‘You understand that you can’t leave the hospital before we’ve investigated your symptoms,’ she says.
She gives him a small pink bottle of nitroglycerine for him to spray under his tongue at the first sign of pain in his chest.
Reidar walks to Ward 66, but before he reaches Mikael’s room he stops in the corridor, leans against the wall.
When he enters the room, Joona stands up and offers him the chair. His phone is still next to the bed.
‘Mikael, you have to help me find her,’ he says as he sits down.
‘Dad, how are you?’ his son asks in a steady voice.
‘It was nothing,’ Reidar replies, trying to smile.
‘What have they said, what does the doctor think?’ Mikael asks.
‘She says I have a bit of a problem with my arteries, but I don’t believe that. Anyway it doesn’t matter, we’ve got to find Felicia.’
‘She was convinced you wouldn’t care that she was missing. I said that wasn’t true, but she was sure you’d only be looking for me.’
Reidar sits motionless. He knows what Mikael means, because he’s never forgotten what happened on that last day.
His son puts his bony hand on his arm and their eyes meet once more.
‘You were walking from Södertälje – is that where I should start looking?’ Reidar asks. ‘Is that where she might be?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mikael says quietly.
‘But you must remember something,’ Reidar goes on in a subdued voice.
‘I don’t remember anything,’ his son says. ‘It’s just that there’s nothing to remember.’
Joona is leaning on the end of the bed. Mikael’s eyes are half-open and he’s still clutching his father’s hand tightly.
‘You said before that you and Felicia were together, on the floor in the darkness,’ Joona begins.
‘Yes,’ Mikael whispers.
‘How long was it just the two of you? When did the others disappear?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replies. ‘I can’t say, time doesn’t work the way you think.’
‘Describe the room.’
Mikael looks into Joona’s grey eyes with a tortured expression.
‘I never saw the room,’ he says. ‘Apart from at the start, when I was little … there was a bright light that was sometimes switched on, when we could look at each other. But I don’t remember what the room looked like, I was just scared …’
‘But you do remember something?’
‘The darkness, there was almost nothing but darkness.’
‘There must have been a floor,’ Joona says.
‘Yes,’ Mikael whispers.
‘Go on,’ Reidar says softly.
Mikael looks away from the two men. He stares into space as he starts to talk about the place where he was held captive so long:
‘The floor … it was hard, and cold. Six paces one way … four paces the other … And the walls were made of solid concrete, there was no echo when you hit them.’
47
Reidar squeezes his hand without saying anything. Mikael closes his eyes and lets the images and memories guide his words.
‘There’s a sofa, and a mattress that we pull away from the drain when we need to use the tap,’ he says, gulping hard.
‘The tap,’ Joona repeats.
‘And the door … it’s made of iron, or steel. It’s never open. I’ve never seen it open, there’s no lock on the inside, no handle … and next to the door there’s a hole in the wall, that’s where the bucket of food appears. It’s only a little hole, but if you stick your arm in and reach up, you can feel a metal hatch with your fingertips …’
Reidar is sobbing gently as he listens to Mikael telling them what he remembers of the room.
‘We try to save the food,’ he says. ‘But sometimes it runs out … sometimes it would take so long that we’d just lie there listening for the hatch, and when we did get something we ended up being sick … and sometimes there was no water in the tap, we got thirsty and the drain started to smell …’
‘What sort of food was it?’ Joona asks calmly.
‘Leftovers, mainly … bits of sausage, potato, carrot, onions … macaroni.’
‘The person who gave you the food … he never said anything?’
‘At the start we shouted out the moment the hatch opened, but then it just slammed shut and we went without food … after that we tried talking to whoever opened it, but we never got any answer … We always listened hard … we could hear breathing, shoes on a concrete floor … the same shoes every time …’
Joona checks that the recording is still working. He can’t help thinking about the extreme isolation that the siblings have endured. Most serial killers avoid contact with their victims, not speaking to them so they can continue to regard them as objects. But at some point they always have to visit their victims, they have to see the horror and helplessness in their faces.
‘You heard him moving about,’ Joona says. ‘Did you ever hear anything else from outside?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Think about it,’ Joona says seriously. ‘Birds, dogs barking, cars, trains, voices, aeroplanes, television, laughter, shouting, sirens … anything at all.’
‘Just the smell of sand …’
The sky outside the hospital window is dark now, and hailstones are falling against the glass.
‘What did you do when you were awake?’
‘Nothing … To start with, when we were still fairly little, I managed to pull a loose screw out of the bottom of the sofa … We used it to scratch a hole in the wall. The screw got so hot it almost burned our fingers. We kept going for ages … there was nothing but cement, then, after five centimetres or so, we hit some metal mesh. We kept going through one of the gaps, but a short distance further on we hit more mesh, it was impossible … It’s impossible to escape from the capsule.’
‘Why do you call the room “the capsule”?’
Mikael smiles wearily, in a way that makes him look incredibly lonely.
‘It was Felicia who started that … she imagined we were out in space, that we were on a mission … That was back at the start, before we stopped talking, but I went on thinking of the room as the capsule.’
‘Why did you stop talking?’
‘I don’t know, we just did, there was nothing left to say …’
Reidar raises a trembling hand to his mouth. It looks as though he’s struggling not to cry.
‘You say it’s impossible to escape … yet that’s precisely what you did,’ Joona says.
48
Carlos Eliasson, chief of the National Police, is walking through a light shower of snow from a meeting in Rådhuset, and talking to his wife on the phone. Right now police headquarters looks like a summer palace in a wintery park. The hand holding the phone is so cold that his fingers are aching.
‘I’m going to be deploying a lot of resources.’
‘Are you sure Mikael’s going to get well?’
‘Yes.’
Carlos stamps the snow from his shoes when he reaches the pavement.
‘That’s fantastic,’ she mutters.
He hears her sigh as she sits down on a chair.
‘I can’t tell you,’ he says after a brief pause. ‘I just can’t, can I?’
‘No,’ she replies.
‘What if it turned out to be crucial to the investigation?’ he asks.
‘You can’t tell me,’ she says gravely.
Carlos carries on up Kungsholmsgatan and glances at his watch; he hears his wife whisper that she’s got to go.
‘See you tonight,’ she says quietly.
Over the years, police headquarters has been extended, one piece at a time. The various sections reflect changes in fashion. The most recent part is up by Kronoberg Park. That’s where the National Criminal Investigation Department is based.
Carlos goes through two different security doors, carries on past the covered inner courtyard and takes the lift up to the eighth floor. There’s a worried expression on his face as he removes his outdoor coat and walks past the row of closed doors. A newspaper cutting on a noticeboard flutters in his wake. It’s been there since the painful evening when the police choir was voted off Sweden’s Got Talent.
There are already five other officers in the meeting room. On the pine table are glasses and bottles of water. The yellow curtains have been drawn back and snow-covered treetops are visible through the row of low windows. Everyone is doing their best to appear calm, but beneath the surface they are all thinking dark thoughts. The meeting that Joona has called is due to start in two minutes. Benny Rubin has already taken off his shoes and is telling Magdalena Ronander what he thinks of the new security evaluation forms.
Carlos shakes hands with Nathan Pollock and Tommy Kofoed from the National Murder Squad. As usual, Nathan is wearing a dark-grey jacket and his grey ponytail is hanging down his back. Beside the two men sits Anja Larsson in a silver-coloured blouse and pale-blue skirt.
‘Anja’s been trying to modernise us … we’re supposed to learn how to use the Analyst’s Notebook.’ Nathan smiles. ‘But we’re too old for that.’
‘I reckon you’ve all been round the block a few times,’ Anja says.
Carlos stands at the end of the table and the sombre look on his face makes even Benny shut up.
‘Welcome, all of you,’ Carlos says, without a hint of his usual smile. ‘As you may have heard, some new information has come to light concerning Jurek Walter and … well, the preliminary investigation can no longer be regarded as concluded …’
‘What did I tell you?’ a quiet voice with a Finnish accent says.
49
Carlos turns round quickly and sees Joona Linna standing in the doorway. The tall detective’s black coat is sparkling with snow.
‘Joona isn’t always right, of course,’ Carlos says. ‘But I have to admit … this time …’
‘So Joona was the only person who thought Jurek Walter had an accomplice?’ Nathan Pollock asks.
‘Well, yes …’
‘And a lot of people got very upset when he said Samuel Mendel’s family were among the victims,’ Anja says quietly.
‘True.’ Carlos nods. ‘Joona did some excellent work, no question … I’d only recently been appointed back then, and perhaps I didn’t listen to the right people, but now we know … and now we can go on to …’
He falls silent and looks at Joona, who steps into the room.
‘I’ve just come from Södermalm Hospital,’ he says curtly.
‘Have I said something wrong?’ Carlos asks.
‘No.’
‘Perhaps you think I should say something else?’ Carlos asks, looking embarrassed as he glances at the others. ‘Joona, it was thirteen years ago, a lot of water’s passed under the bridge since then …’
‘Yes.’
‘And you were absolutely right back then, as I just said.’
‘What was I right about?’ Joona asks in a quiet voice, looking at his boss.
‘What you were right about?’ Carlos repeats shrilly. ‘Everything, Joona. You were right about everything. Is that enough now? I think that’s probably enough …’