‘Stay here and see if you can sort this lot out.’ Torkel made a sweeping gesture across the table as he turned to Billy.
‘Okay.’ For a second Billy thought about asking why Vanja couldn’t do it instead. But this was not the time.
‘Check that nothing’s missing. If it is, I want to know,’ said Torkel, heading for the door.
Billy stopped him. ‘You don’t seriously think Sebastian is involved in all this?’
Torkel’s expression was grave as he turned back to face Billy, his hand on the door handle. ‘As far as we know, he was the last person to see Annette Willén alive. So yes, he is involved.’
Torkel and Vanja hurried down the corridor, calling in at the staffroom where a group of uniformed officers were helping themselves to coffee from the machine. One of them had seen Sebastian a while ago and said hello, but Sebastian hadn’t replied. Torkel’s office door was open. Sebastian was slumped on the brown sofa, his head bowed. As Torkel entered, Sebastian looked up slowly. His expression was resigned, yet somehow powerful. As if he had reached the end of the road and had nowhere to run, but intended to fight anyway. He got to his feet. Vanja appeared in the doorway and looked Sebastian straight in the eye, her gaze full of suppressed rage.
‘Leave us alone, please.’ Torkel felt instinctively that it would be best to speak to his old friend alone. He needed dialogue, not immediate confrontation. He glanced at Vanja. ‘Close the door.’
Without a word she did as she was told. The hint of a slam, perhaps.
Torkel looked at Sebastian. ‘We’ve got a few things to sort out, you and I.’
‘More than you think.’ Sebastian’s voice was clear, and at least as forceful as Torkel’s. This unexpected show of strength annoyed Torkel; Sebastian should be speaking in no more than a whisper, he thought before he went on.
‘As far as you’re concerned, it ends here. You will have nothing further to do with this investigation.’
‘Yes, I will.’
‘Sebastian, listen to me!’ Torkel couldn’t stop his anger flaring up. Did Sebastian really not see the problem? ‘You had sex with one of the victims.’
‘I’ve had sex with all four.’
Torkel’s face drained of colour as he stared blankly into Sebastian’s burning eyes.
‘This is no ordinary copycat, Torkel. This is personal. And it’s aimed at me.’
It took a while to gather the whole team. Ursula was called back from pathology, even though the autopsy was nowhere near complete. Billy had sorted out the files and tidied up by the time Sebastian and Torkel arrived in the Room; nothing was missing, as far as he could see. Although she found it frustrating, Vanja had willingly agreed to take over the task of trying to track down Annette’s ex-husband. After what had happened she needed to feel that they were still effective as police officers, and were capable of acting correctly. She had managed to locate him and had sent a patrol to tell him what had happened. If he already knew they would question him briefly anyway, just to establish whether he had an alibi for the relevant time frame. Vanja was the last to arrive in the Room, and made a point of positioning herself near the door with her arms folded. As far away from Sebastian as possible.
‘We’re facing a critical situation here,’ he began.
Vanja shook her head. ‘You are facing a critical situation. Not we. Don’t drag us into this, if you don’t mind.’
Torkel silenced her with a look. ‘Let him finish.’
Sebastian nodded gratefully to Torkel and glanced apologetically at Vanja. He didn’t want to fight with her now. Anything but that. It was a long time since he had felt so alone.
He turned and pointed to a picture of the first victim. ‘I didn’t recognise Maria Lie at first, but her name was Kaufmann when she was at university. According to the documentation, we were students there at the same time, and I remember I was seeing a Maria Kaufmann for a while.’ He swallowed and moved on to the picture of Katharina Granlund.
‘I should have recognised Katharina. She came to a book signing back in ’97. At the book fair. She was already married at the time. We saw each other a few times. I realised it was her when I read that she had a small tattoo of a green lizard in an . . . an intimate place . . .’
‘You can’t be serious?’ Vanja said. ‘You don’t remember what the women you’ve shagged are called or what they look like, but you remember their tattoos down there?’
‘A tattoo is easier to remember than a face,’ Billy said.
Vanja turned to him like lightning. ‘Are you sticking up for him?’
‘I’m just saying that . . .’
‘Stop it. Both of you!’ Torkel interrupted the discussion as if he were separating two quarrelsome children. ‘Sebastian, please go on.’
Sebastian couldn’t look at Vanja as he turned to the last picture. The blonde woman in Nynäshamn. Victim number two.
‘Jeanette Jansson . . . I don’t recognise her, I don’t remember her at all, but I read in one of the interviews that she was known as “JoJo”, and I was . . . I went to bed with a JoJo a few years after I left university. In Växjö . . . She was blonde and she had a scar here.’ Sebastian pointed to his upper lip. ‘Jeanette Jansson comes from Växjö and had an operation to correct a harelip when she was a child.’
His words were met with total silence. Vanja was staring at him with pure disgust written all over her face. Sebastian suddenly looked immensely old and weary.
‘So it’s my fault that these particular women are dead. I’m the link you’ve been searching for. Me and Hinde.’
‘But Edward Hinde is locked up in Lövhaga,’ Billy pointed out. ‘Can we really be sure he has something to do with this?’
‘It’s beyond unlikely that someone would be copying Edward’s murders down to the last detail with all the victims linked to me without Edward having anything to do with it. Four murders, four women I’ve slept with – there has to be a connection!’
The room fell silent again. They knew Sebastian was right. It was impossible to disregard the pattern, however much they might want to.
Ursula got up and went over to the whiteboard. ‘Why now? Why is this happening now? Hinde committed his murders more than fifteen years ago.’
‘That’s what we have to find out,’ Torkel replied, suddenly realising that whichever way he looked at it, Sebastian was the key to the solution. ‘Sebastian, have you had any contact with Hinde since you interviewed him in the nineties?’
‘No. None at all.’
Torkel looked at his team. It was a long time since he had seen such a mixture of surprise, shock and anger. In a moment of clarity he knew what he had to do. It was likely that no one else would understand. But he was absolutely certain. Torkel didn’t know Edward Hinde as well as Sebastian did, but he knew him well enough to be aware that their opponent was a calculating, highly intelligent psychopath. Back in the nineties he had been one step ahead of them all the way along, until Sebastian Bergman joined the investigation.
Most of the team had been sceptical about the involvement of the egocentric psychologist, but Torkel at least had changed his mind very quickly. It was only with Sebastian on board that they had begun to find the patterns which eventually led to Hinde’s arrest. That was the truth. He needed Sebastian. He tried to catch Vanja’s and Ursula’s eyes, and cleared his throat.
‘You’re not going to like this. But you have to trust me. I want Sebastian there when Hinde is questioned.’
‘What do you mean?’ Vanja appeared to have calmed down slightly but now she found a new burst of energy. Her cheeks acquired a faint red flush. An angry flush.
‘If Hinde sees Sebastian as his opponent, if he’s gone as far as he has in order to make that clear . . .’ Torkel broke off and glanced at Sebastian, who seemed strangely indifferent. ‘Then he shall have Sebastian as his opponent. For real.’
‘Why?’ Vanja again. Of course.
‘Because until we show him that we’ve understood, the danger
will continue.’
‘So if Sebastian turns up, he’ll stop?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
Nobody else spoke. They didn’t even know where to start. Torkel turned to Vanja again.
‘You will accompany Sebastian to Lövhaga tomorrow.’
‘No way! There are other people on this team.’
‘But you’re the one I’m asking to keep an eye on Sebastian. Somebody needs to kick the shit out of him if he doesn’t behave. You’ll do that better than anyone else.’
Vanja looked at Sebastian, then back at Torkel. Sebastian and Hinde seemed to be linked in a way she didn’t understand, and now Torkel was proposing to give Hinde precisely what he wanted. That certainly wasn’t doing things by the book. On the contrary, it could end very badly. She took a couple of steps towards him. ‘Do you realise what you’re doing?’
‘Yes.’
Vanja looked around for support from the others, but none was forthcoming.
Billy leaned forward. ‘I was just thinking: should we issue some kind of warning?’
The others stared at him uncomprehendingly.
Billy looked slightly embarrassed. ‘I mean, there must be a lot of women who . . . who are at risk, if you know what I mean.’
Vanja shook her head. ‘And what are we supposed to do? Issue a mug shot – “Have you slept with this man?” How many are there? A hundred? Two hundred? Five hundred?’
Sebastian looked at her, then at the pictures of the dead women.
‘I have no idea, to tell the truth.’
Ursula got to her feet. ‘I’m going to ring the lab; I need to have a conversation with someone sane.’
Torkel tried to catch her eye, but failed.
Before she reached the door Billy was on his feet too. He seemed to have thought of something, and was full of energy. ‘Hang on, there’s something else. How does he select them?’
He moved quickly across to the board and pointed to the photographs. ‘Look. Let’s say that it’s possible to track down your past relationships if you do a bit of hunting around and plan for a long time, but what about Annette Willén? How did he know about her? You only met her yesterday, didn’t you?’
The others took in what Billy had just said. It was as if the monster they were hunting was suddenly breathing down their necks. Billy looked at Sebastian, his expression serious. ‘Have you had any kind of feeling that someone might be following you?’
The question took Sebastian by surprise. Why hadn’t he thought of that possibility himself? Why hadn’t he seen that the gap in time between himself and the dead women had suddenly shrunk? From decades to less than twenty-four hours. It must have been the stress of having to accept the impossible that had stopped him from seeing.
‘I haven’t thought about it.’
But he was thinking about it now.
Seriously.
The following morning they were standing in the lift together. Vanja kept her eyes firmly fixed on the numbers counting down just above the door. They were heading for P, the car park.
Sebastian suppressed a yawn and rubbed his eyes wearily. He hadn’t slept much. He had found it difficult to stop his whirling thoughts. Hinde, the four dead women, the link. Everything was spinning around in his mind. He had dropped off at about four, only to be woken by the dream an hour or so later. By that time there was no chance of going back to sleep. He had got up, had a coffee, showered and driven to the police station to wait for Vanja. So that they could go and see Hinde.
‘If this is true, four women have died because of you,’ she said now, without looking at him.
Sebastian didn’t respond. What could he say? Sex with him was the only thing the four victims had in common. Sex with Sebastian Bergman. A death sentence.
‘You should have a warning sign around your neck. You’re worse than HIV.’
‘You might think I deserve this,’ Sebastian said quietly, ‘but would you be kind enough to keep quiet for a while?’
Vanja turned to him, her expression uncompromising. ‘I’m sorry, is this difficult for you? Well, let me tell you something: you’re not the victim here.’
Sebastian gritted his teeth and refrained from answering back. There was no point.
Perhaps he wasn’t the victim in the true sense of the word, but nor was he to blame. He couldn’t possibly have predicted that someone would track down some of his nocturnal adventures decades later and brutally murder them in order to demonstrate his power over Sebastian in a perverse way. Just as he could not have predicted or prevented the tsunami. He kept his mouth shut. She would never understand. He found it painful. More painful than Vanja could possibly imagine.
‘Have you had any kind of feeling that someone might be following you?’
Sebastian couldn’t get Billy’s words out of his head. How could you tell if someone was following you? He had no idea. In the taxi on the way to Kungsholmen this morning he had glanced out of the rear window from time to time, but it was impossible to tell whether any of the cars behind them might be following him or not. Perhaps it was an instinct that police officers developed, and he wasn’t a police officer. But no, that couldn’t be true either. He had been following Vanja for several months, and she hadn’t noticed anything. He was sure of that. If she had, he wouldn’t be sitting in this dark blue Volvo with her.
Vanja negotiated her way adeptly out of the car park and drove up to the security barrier. As they drove out she indicated right.
‘Hang on.’
As always her expression was irritated as she glanced at him. He wondered if she saved that particular look for him, but didn’t pursue the thought.
‘Turn left instead. Drive past the main entrance.’
‘What for?’
‘A long shot. If someone is following me, he or she might be waiting there. I always go in that way, and if I’m not on foot, that’s where the taxi drops me off.’
Vanja flicked the indicator to signal a left turn and pulled out into the traffic. After another left turn they rounded the corner into Polhemsgatan.
‘Stop.’
Vanja did as he asked. Sebastian scanned the street ahead. There weren’t many pedestrians around, but Kronoberg Park lay opposite Riksmord. It was impossible to gain an overview of the park, at least from the car. Not like this, anyway.
Sebastian turned to Vanja. ‘Have you got a pair of binoculars in the car?’
‘No.’
Once again Sebastian’s gaze swept over the street. He knew quite a lot about following someone. Keep out of sight, but at a reasonable distance so that you could follow the person quickly if your target moved. Everyone he could see appeared to be on their way somewhere. No one was just hanging around or ambling along aimlessly. So that left the park. And, it struck him, the café on the corner. Of course. A perfect view without arousing the least suspicion. That was why he had chosen the place himself.
‘Drive up to the café on the next corner.’ Sebastian pointed and Vanja started the car. As they drove slowly past the main entrance to Riksmord, Sebastian looked out of the side window at the cars parked on the right. Tried to remember if there had been any other regular customers. Someone who had been there as often as him. He couldn’t think of anyone, but then he hadn’t really been interested in the clientele. His focus had been elsewhere.
There was nowhere to park, so Vanja drove halfway up onto the pavement, far too close to the pedestrian crossing. They both got out and crossed the road. Vanja took the two small steps leading up to the café in one stride and pushed open the door. Sebastian heard the familiar tinkling sound of the little bell on the inside. He was just about to follow Vanja up the steps when he stiffened.
A memory.
Just before they’d passed the entrance to police headquarters. Parked on the right-hand side. A blue Ford Focus. Pale blue. The blue of a little boy’s pyjamas. A man wearing sunglasses in the driver’s seat.
His thoughts wandered back to the day he had decided to
tidy his study. He had looked out of the window. Looked down at his old parking space outside the antique shop. There had been another car there at the time. A pale blue car.
‘Are you coming?’ Vanja was still waiting, holding the door open for him. Sebastian barely heard her. His mind was whirling. The visit to Stefan. When he had gone out to fetch milk. The men failing to unload the piano. Behind the van. A pale blue car. Possibly a Ford Focus.
‘Sebastian?’
Without a word Sebastian turned, crossed the road and set off in the direction from which they had come. Towards the parked car.
‘Where are you going?’ Vanja shouted after him, but he didn’t reply. He increased his speed. Far behind him he heard the little bell tinkle again as Vanja let go of the door and followed him. He broke into a run. The suspicion grew into certainty as he saw the person in the driver’s seat of the pale blue Focus begin to move.
The driver leaned forward.
Started the car.
Sebastian lengthened his stride.
‘Sebastian!’
The blue car pulled out. Sebastian ran between two parked cars and out into the street. Some idea in his head of blocking the road with whatever he had. His body. For a moment it looked as if the driver of the Ford was intending to do a U-turn, but Sebastian could see that he would never be able to swing around; the street was too narrow. Evidently the driver realised the same thing; he straightened up the car and put his foot down instead. Aiming for Sebastian.
‘Sebastian!’ Vanja again. Too far away. More urgency in her voice this time. She realised what was about to happen.
The car was only a dozen metres away from Sebastian, and showed no sign of slowing down. Quite the reverse. The sound of the revving engine grew louder and louder. The car was picking up speed. Realising that the driver had no intention of stopping, Sebastian hurled himself sideways, between two parked cars. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he felt the Ford catch the heel of his shoe as it raced past.
It continued at high speed. Vanja drew her gun, but knew she couldn’t shoot at a fast-disappearing car in the centre of Stockholm, and slid it back into its holster. She ran to the spot where Sebastian had fallen. From where she was standing it had been difficult to see whether the car had hit him or not. She crouched down beside him.
The Disciple Page 18