The Sandman

by Kepler, Lars

  Joona smiles briefly and Carlos sits down with a sigh.

  ‘Mikael Kohler-Frost’s general condition is already much better, and I’ve questioned him a couple of times … Naturally, I was hoping that Mikael would be able to identify the accomplice.’

  ‘Maybe it’s too soon,’ Nathan says thoughtfully.

  ‘No … Mikael can’t give us a name, or a description … he can’t even give us a voice, but—’

  ‘Is he traumatised?’ Magdalena Ronander asks.

  ‘He’s simply never seen him,’ Joona says, meeting her gaze.

  ‘So we’ve got nothing at all to go on?’ Carlos whispers.

  Joona steps forward and his shadow falls across the table and the room.

  ‘Mikael calls his kidnapper the Sandman … I asked Reidar Frost about it, and he explained that the name comes from a bedtime story the children’s mother used to tell them … The Sandman is some sort of personification of sleep; he throws sand in children’s eyes to get them to fall asleep.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Magdalena says with a smile. ‘And the proof that the Sandman has been there is the little gritty deposits at the corners of your eyes when you wake up.’

  ‘The Sandman,’ Pollock says thoughtfully, and jots something down in his black notebook.

  Anja takes Joona’s phone and starts to connect it to the wireless sound system.

  ‘Mikael and Felicia Kohler-Frost are half-German. Roseanna Kohler moved to Sweden from Schwabach when she was eight years old,’ Joona explains.

  ‘That’s south of Nuremburg,’ Carlos adds.

  ‘The Sandman is their version of Wee Willie Winkie,’ Joona goes on. ‘And every evening before the children said their prayers she would tell them a bit more about him … Over the years she mixed up the story from her own childhood with a load of things she made up herself, and with fragments about E. T. A. Hoffmann’s barometer salesman and mechanical girls … Mikael and Felicia were only ten and eight years old, and they thought it was the Sandman who had taken them.’

  The men and women seated round the table watch Anja prepare the recording of Mikael’s account. Their faces are sombre. For the first time they’re about to hear Jurek Walter’s only surviving victim talk about what happened.

  ‘In other words, we can’t identify the accomplice,’ Joona says. ‘Which leaves the location … If Mikael can lead us back there, then …’

  50

  There’s a hiss from the loudspeakers and certain sounds are emphasised, like the rustle of paper, while others are barely audible. At times Reidar’s sobbing can be heard, such as when his son talks about Felicia’s space-capsule fantasy.

  As they listen, Nathan Pollock makes notes and Magdalena Ronander types non-stop on her laptop.

  ‘You say it’s impossible to escape,’ they hear Joona say seriously. ‘Yet that’s precisely what you did.’

  ‘It is impossible, it wasn’t like that,’ Mikael Kohler-Frost replies quickly.

  ‘How was it, then?’

  ‘The Sandman blew his dust over us and when I woke up I realised I wasn’t in the capsule any more,’ Mikael says. ‘It was completely dark, but I could hear that the room was different, and could tell that Felicia wasn’t there. I felt my way forward until I came to a door with a handle … and I opened it and found myself in a corridor … I don’t think I was aware that I was escaping, I just knew I had to keep moving forward … I came to a locked door and thought I’d ended up in a trap, because obviously I realised that the Sandman might come back any second … I panicked and broke the glass with my hand, and reached through to unlock it … I ran through a storeroom full of boxes and bags of cement … and then I saw that the wall to the right was nothing more than a plastic sheet stapled in place … I was having trouble breathing, and I could feel my fingers bleeding as I tried to pull the plastic down. I knew I’d hurt myself on the glass, but I didn’t care, I just carried on across a big concrete floor … the room wasn’t finished, and I kept going until I found myself walking on snow … the sky wasn’t completely dark by then … I ran past a digger with a blue star on it and carried on into the forest, and started to realise that I was free. I ran through trees and undergrowth and got covered in snow, I never looked back, just kept on going, across a field and up into a clump of trees, and suddenly I couldn’t go any further. A broken branch had jabbed straight into my thigh, I was completely stuck, I couldn’t move. Blood was running down into the snow and it hurt badly. I tried to pull free, but I was stuck fast … I thought I might be able to break the branch, but I was too weak, I just couldn’t do it. So I stood there. I was sure I could hear the Sandman’s porcelain fingers clicking. When I turned to look behind me I slipped and the branch came out. I don’t know if I passed out … I was much slower now, but I got to my feet and carried on up a slope, I was stumbling and kept thinking I couldn’t go any further, then I was crawling, and I found myself on a railway track. I’ve no idea how long I walked, I was freezing, but I kept going, occasionally I could see houses in the distance but I was so exhausted that I stuck to the tracks … It was snowing more and more, but it was like I was walking in a trance, it never occurred to me to stop, I just wanted to get further away …’

  51

  When Mikael has stopped talking and the hissing noise from the speakers has ceased, there’s total silence in the meeting room. Carlos stands up. He’s biting one of his thumbnails as he stares blankly into space.

  ‘We abandoned two children,’ he eventually says in a quiet voice. ‘They were missing, but we said they were dead and just went on with our lives.’

  ‘We were actually convinced that was true, though,’ Benny says gently.

  ‘Joona wanted to carry on,’ murmurs Anja.

  ‘But in the end even I didn’t believe they were still alive,’ says Joona.

  ‘And there was nothing left to go on,’ Pollock points out. ‘No evidence, no witnesses …’

  Carlos’s cheeks are pale as he puts a hand to his neck and tries to undo the top button of his shirt.

  ‘But they were alive,’ he says, almost in a whisper.

  ‘Yes,’ Joona replies.

  ‘I’ve seen a lot, but this …’ Carlos says, tugging at his collar again. ‘I just can’t understand why. I mean, why the hell? I don’t get it, I just …’

  ‘There’s nothing to get,’ Anja says kindly. ‘You need a drink of water.’

  ‘Why would anyone keep two children locked up for all those years?’ he goes on, his voice raised. ‘Making sure that they survived, but nothing more, no blackmail, no violence, no abuse …’

  Anja tries to lead him from the room, but he resists and grabs Nathan Pollock’s arm.

  ‘Find the girl,’ he says. ‘Whatever you do, find her today!’

  ‘I’m not sure—’

  ‘Find her!’ Carlos cuts in, then leaves the meeting room.

  Anja returns shortly afterwards. The members of the group mutter and look through their papers. Tommy Kofoed is smiling a strained smile to himself. Benny is sitting with his mouth open, absentmindedly poking at Magdalena’s sports bag with his toes.

  ‘What’s wrong with you all?’ Anja asks sharply. ‘Didn’t you hear what the boss said?’

  The group quickly agrees that Magdalena and Kofoed should put together a response team and a forensics unit while Joona tries to identify a preliminary search area to the south of Södertälje Syd station.

  Joona studies a printout of the last picture that was taken of Felicia. He doesn’t know how many times he’s looked at it. Her eyes are big and dark, her long black hair is draped over her shoulder in a loose plait. She’s holding a riding hat and smiling shrewdly at the camera.

  ‘Mikael Kohler-Frost says he started walking just before it got dark,’ Joona begins, gazing at the large-scale map on the wall. ‘When exactly did the train driver raise the alarm?’

  Benny checks his laptop.

  ‘At three twenty-two,’ he replies.

  ‘They f
ound Mikael here,’ Joona says, drawing a circle round the northern end of the Igelsta Bridge. ‘It’s hard to imagine he could have been walking any faster than five kilometres an hour, if he was wounded and suffering from Legionnaires’ disease.’

  Anja uses a ruler to measure the furthest distance he could have walked from the south, at that speed and on a map of that scale, then draws a circle using a large pairs of compasses. Twenty minutes later they’ve managed to identify five current construction projects that could match Mikael’s description.

  A two-metre plasma screen is now showing a hybrid of a map and a satellite picture. Benny is still laboriously adding information to the computer which is connected to the plasma screen. Beside him Anja is sitting with two telephones, gathering supplementary information, while Nathan and Joona discuss the various building sites.

  Five red circles on the map mark the ongoing construction projects within the preliminary search area. Three of them are in built-up areas.

  Joona is standing in front of the map, his eyes following the railway line, then he points at one of the two other circles, in the forest close to Älgberget.

  ‘This is the one,’ he says.

  Benny clicks the circle and brings up the coordinates, and Anja reads out a short description of the building works: NCC are building a new server farm for Facebook, but work has been at a standstill for the past month because of environmental objections.

  ‘Do you want me to get hold of the plans?’ Anja asks.

  ‘We’ll set off at once,’ Joona says.

  52

  The snow is lying undisturbed on the bumpy track through the forest. A large area has been cleared. Pipes and cable-runs are in place, and the drains have been installed. Forty thousand square metres of concrete foundations have been laid, and several ancillary buildings are more or less complete, while others are just shells. There’s a thick layer of snow on the diggers and dumper trucks.

  During the drive to Älgberget, Joona received detailed plans on his mobile. Anja had got hold of them from the local planning department.

  Magdalena Ronander examines the map with the rapid-response unit before they leave their vehicles and approach the site from three directions.

  They’re creeping through the edge of the forest. It’s dark in among the tree trunks, and the snow is uneven. They quickly take up their positions, approaching cautiously as they observe the open area.

  There’s a strange, somnolent atmosphere over the whole place. A large digger is parked in front of a gaping shaft.

  Marita Jakobsson runs over and crouches down beside a pile of blast mats. She’s a middle-aged superintendent with plenty of experience. She carefully scans the buildings through her binoculars before waving the rest of the group forward.

  Joona draws his pistol and heads towards a low building with the others. Snow is blowing off the roof and drifting through the air, sparkling.

  They’re all wearing bulletproof vests and helmets, and two of them are carrying Heckler & Koch assault rifles.

  They pass an unfinished wall and head up onto the bare concrete foundations.

  Joona points towards a sheet of protective plastic that’s flapping in the wind. It’s hanging loose between two struts.

  The group follows Marita through a storeroom and over to a door whose window has been smashed. There are black bloodstains on the floor and sill of the door.

  There’s no doubt that this is the place Mikael escaped from.

  The glass crunches beneath their boots. They carry on into the corridor, opening door after door and securing each room in turn.

  Everywhere is empty.

  In one room is a crate of empty bottles, but otherwise there’s nothing.

  So far it’s impossible to tell which room Mikael was in when he woke up, but everything suggests that it was one of the rooms along this corridor.

  The rapid-response units sweep efficiently through the industrial units and search each room before withdrawing to their vehicles.

  Now Forensics can get to work.

  Then the forest needs to be searched with dog patrols.

  Joona is standing with his helmet in his hand, looking at the snow as it sparkles on the ground.

  If I’m honest, I knew we weren’t going to find Felicia here, he thinks. The room that Mikael called the capsule had thick, reinforced walls, a water tap and a hatch for food. It was constructed to hold people captive.

  Joona has read Mikael’s medical records, and knows that the doctors found traces of the anaesthetic drug Sevoflurane in his soft tissues. Now he’s thinking that Mikael must have been drugged and moved here while he was unconscious. That matches his description of just waking up to find himself in a different room. He fell asleep in the capsule and woke up here.

  For some reason, Mikael was moved here after all those years.

  Was it finally time for him to end up in a coffin when he managed to escape?

  The temperature is falling even lower as Joona watches the police officers return to their vehicles. Marita Jakobsson’s careworn face is tense, and she looks sad.

  If Mikael was drugged, then there is no way he can lead them to the capsule.

  He never saw anything.

  Nathan Pollock waves to Joona, to let him know it’s time to leave. Joona starts to raise his hand, but gives up.

  It mustn’t end like this. It can’t be over, he thinks, running his hand through his hair.

  What is left to be done?

  As Joona walks back towards the cars, he already knows the terrifying answer to his own question.

  53

  Joona turns gently into the Q-Park garage, takes a ticket, then drives down the ramp and parks. He remains seated in the car as a man from the carpet warehouse above gathers up shopping trolleys.

  When he can’t see anyone else in the car park, Joona gets out of the car and goes over to a shiny black van with tinted windows, opens the side door and climbs in.

  The door closes silently behind him and Joona says a muted hello to Carlos Eliasson, chief of the National Police, and the head of the Security Police, Verner Zandén.

  ‘Felicia Kohler-Frost is being held in a dark room,’ Carlos begins. ‘She’s been there more than ten years, together with her older brother. Now she’s entirely alone. Are we going to abandon her? Say she’s dead and leave her there? If she’s not ill, she could live another twenty years or so.’

  ‘Carlos,’ Verner says in a soothing voice.

  ‘I know, I’ve lost all detachment.’ He smiles, raising his hands apologetically. ‘But I really do want us to do absolutely everything we can this time.’

  ‘I need a large team,’ Joona says. ‘If I can have fifty people we can try to pick up all the old threads, every missing-person case. It might not lead to anything, but it’s our only chance. Mikael never saw the accomplice, and he was drugged before he was moved. He can’t tell us where the capsule is. Obviously we’re going to carry on talking to him, but I simply don’t believe he knows where he’s been kept for the past thirteen years.’

  ‘But if Felicia is alive, then she’s probably still in the capsule,’ Verner says in his deep voice.

  ‘Yes,’ Joona agrees.

  ‘How the hell are we going to find her? It’s impossible,’ Carlos says. ‘No one knows where the capsule is.’

  ‘No one apart from Jurek Walter,’ Joona says.

  ‘Who can’t be questioned,’ Verner says.

  ‘No,’ Joona replies.

  ‘He’s utterly psychotic, and—’

  ‘No, he was never that,’ Joona interrupts.

  ‘All I know is what it says in the forensic medical report,’ Verner says. ‘They wrote that he was schizophrenic, psychotic, prone to chaotic thinking and extremely violent.’

  ‘Only because that’s what Jurek wanted it to say,’ Joona replies calmly.

  ‘So you think he’s healthy? Is that what you mean, that there’s nothing wrong with him?’ Verner asks. ‘What the hell is this?
Why wasn’t he interrogated, then?’

  ‘He was sentenced to solitary confinement,’ Carlos says. ‘In the verdict of the Supreme Court—’

  ‘It must be possible to get round the terms of the sentence,’ Verner sighs, stretching out his long legs.

  ‘Maybe,’ Carlos says.

  ‘And I’ve got some very skilled people who’ve interrogated people suspected of terrorist—’

  ‘Joona’s the best,’ Carlos interrupts.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Joona responds.

  ‘It was you who tracked down and apprehended Jurek, and you’re actually the only person he spoke to before his trial.’

  Joona shakes his head and looks out at the deserted garage through the tinted window.

  ‘I’ve tried,’ he says slowly. ‘But it’s impossible to fool Jurek. He isn’t like other people, he isn’t unhappy, he doesn’t need sympathy, he won’t say anything.’

  ‘Do you want to try?’ Verner asks.

  ‘No, I can’t,’ says Joona.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m frightened,’ he replies simply.

  Carlos looks at him uncertainly.

  ‘I know you’re only joking,’ he says nervously.

  Joona turns to face him. His eyes are hard, and as grey as wet slate.

  ‘Surely we’ve no reason to be scared of an old man who’s already locked up,’ Verner says, scratching his head slightly nervously. ‘He ought to be scared of us. For God’s sake, we could rush in, pin him down on the floor and scare the shit out of him. I mean, seriously fucking tough.’

  ‘It won’t work,’ Joona says.

  ‘There are methods that always work,’ Verner goes on. ‘I’ve got a secret group who were involved in Guantanamo.’

  ‘Obviously, this meeting has never taken place,’ Carlos says hurriedly.

  ‘I very rarely have meetings that have,’ Verner says in his deep voice, then leans forward. ‘My group knows all about waterboarding and electric shocks.’