The Disciple

by Michael Hjorth

  ‘Vanja can come over and have a little chat with me, can’t she? Please?’

  ‘Why? If you’ve got something to say, you can say it now.’

  ‘No. Only to Vanja. Face to face.’

  ‘Never,’ Sebastian heard himself saying.

  But it was too late. There was a clatter as the phone was put down and the rushing sound disappeared. The connection had been broken. Hinde was gone. Vanja got to her feet with a determined expression on her face. Sebastian immediately realised where she was going.

  ‘No, Vanja. Don’t do it. Don’t go there.’

  She looked at him crossly. ‘Because?’

  ‘He won’t give you anything. He just wants attention. I know Edward Hinde.’

  ‘Hang on a minute. We suspect he’s involved. He rings and offers information. Are we just supposed to ignore that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sebastian looked at her, his eyes pleading. As if that would make any difference. He could feel the whole thing slipping through his fingers, but he had to fight. He knew that he couldn’t let go, not under any circumstances. Not again. Vanja must not go there. No way.

  ‘Is it because he didn’t ring you? Is that the problem? The fact that he might want to tell me something?!’ Vanja met his eyes, every bit of her ready for battle.

  ‘No – it’s dangerous!’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about? I can take care of myself.’ She turned to Torkel for support. Which was immediately forthcoming. She was almost taken by surprise.

  ‘You can go. We might as well find out what he wants.’

  ‘But what about the visiting order?’

  ‘I’ll sort it.’

  ‘Oh, so now you can sort it,’ Sebastian muttered.

  Torkel pretended he hadn’t heard.

  ‘I can fix you up with a wire,’ Billy said, heading for the door.

  Vanja stopped him. ‘No. If he notices he might clam up.’

  ‘He’s not going to say anything important anyway,’ Sebastian said, determined not to give up. ‘He’s just going to go all round the houses. Talking a load of crap . . . Lies.’

  Vanja interrupted Sebastian. ‘In that case you two do have something in common.’

  ‘Vanja . . .’

  Sebastian watched her as she walked towards the door. He was terrified; she was on her way to Hinde. To the Monster. He couldn’t give up; his final words to her were a feeble appeal.

  ‘At least let me come with you.’

  Her response was anything but sympathetic. She didn’t even look at him. ‘Sorry, you weren’t invited.’ And with that she walked out.

  Sebastian suddenly had the feeling he would never see her again. That all his efforts to reach her had been in vain. He slumped down on a chair. The others looked at him, uncomprehending. They already knew how self-centred Sebastian was, but his reaction to the situation still seemed extreme. For Torkel it was the final straw. Sebastian had really lost the plot. He seemed to regard the fact that Vanja was going to see Hinde on her own as some kind of personal defeat. It reminded him a little of the moment when Sebastian had told him he had slept with all the women who had been murdered. Torkel had seen the same mixture of panic and sorrow in his eyes. It had been understandable on that occasion, but not now. Now it was merely unacceptable. The very idea of wanting to stop Vanja, the best police officer on the team, from obtaining information was overstepping every conceivable mark, irrespective of whether it was because he didn’t think she could do it or because he thought he should have been the chosen one.

  Sebastian looked at them, especially Torkel; he could see the lack of understanding in their eyes, but hadn’t the strength to explain. They would never be able to grasp the whole picture anyway; it was too complex. Sebastian stiffened. What if that was the explanation? What if Hinde knew? He turned to Ursula.

  ‘Can I borrow your car?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, Sebastian.’

  ‘Can I borrow your fucking car?!’

  Ursula looked in astonishment at Torkel, who also shook his head. ‘That’s enough now, Sebastian.’

  Sebastian was furious. ‘Not for me. Give me the keys!’

  ‘Sebastian, we can’t go on like this,’ Torkel began.

  ‘Fine! Good!’ Sebastian broke in. ‘Kick me out! I couldn’t give a damn! But give me the fucking car keys!’

  After another glance at Torkel, who responded with a resigned shrug, Ursula reached for her bag, which was hanging on the back of the chair. She dug out the car keys and tossed them to Sebastian.

  He almost ran out of the room.

  He had to find a way to stop Vanja.

  He just didn’t know how.

  He ran through the open-plan office, normally an oasis of calm. Those who were working there stared at him with curiosity, but he didn’t care. He hoped that she had had to wait for one of the lifts down to the car park, and that he would catch up with her by taking the stairs. By the door leading out of the office he crashed into two women carrying takeaway coffees. One of them dropped hers, but Sebastian pushed past her without stopping and tore open the door. His feet flew down the stairs, and he counted the floors as he went. Third, second, first; there were two floors of parking spaces and he hoped Vanja had parked in her usual spot on the upper level. He flung open the heavy grey metal door. Ran in among the cars. The car park was almost full. He heard an engine spring into life a short distance away, and ran in that direction. Then he saw her. She was just pulling out, heading towards Fridhemsplan.

  ‘Vanja! Wait!’

  Presumably she hadn’t seen him. Or she was just ignoring him. At any rate, she kept on going. He watched the car disappear. Looked around. Realised that he didn’t know what car Ursula drove. Or where she had parked it. He looked at the key in his hand. Volvo. He ran, pressing the button on the black ignition key in the hope that the lights on one of the cars would flash and show him the way. No luck. He dashed around the car park, pressing the button over and over again. After a while he heard the click. The car was at one end, as far from the exit as possible, and it responded to his constant pressing with reassuring flashes. He raced over, opened the door and got in. Fumbled with the key for a moment before he managed to start the car.

  Foot to the floor, the tyres screeching as he swung around.

  He still didn’t have a plan.

  Except to drive as fast as possible.

  To stop her.

  Haraldsson’s morning had been everything he’d hoped it would be.

  The alarm went off at six twenty, and he got up right away. Jenny was fast asleep on her side of the bed. He closed the bedroom door quietly, pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants and went downstairs. The feeling he had as he headed for the bathroom reminded him of the way he used to feel as a child coming up to Christmas and birthdays: a bubbling happiness, knowing that an utterly perfect day lay ahead. He went to the toilet and had a quick shower, then went into the kitchen. He began by melting a bar of chocolate in a bowl over a pan of boiling water, then dipped the strawberries he had bought on the way home yesterday. He placed them on a dish to allow the chocolate to set, then got out the toaster and frying pan. Toasted and fried. Bread and bacon. Sliced the melon. Cracked four eggs, mixed in the milk and melted butter in the frying pan. Made more toast. Switched on the kettle and put a tea bag in a cup. Took cheese and raspberry jam out of the fridge. Set everything out on the biggest tray they had. Feeling very pleased with himself, he checked that everything was as it should be. Finally he went out to the car and opened the glove compartment. Removed a little red box. A ring. Gold, with a diamond and two rubies. He hadn’t given Jenny a present the morning after their wedding. He hadn’t actually realised that it was expected of him. Jenny’s friends and his female colleagues had been very surprised to hear that Jenny hadn’t received anything. Or as Margareta in the Västerås police had put it: ‘So Jenny ended up with nothing after her wedding night.’ As if the fact that she had gained Thomas Haral
dsson as her husband didn’t count. Jenny had never mentioned it. Never breathed a word of disappointment, or hinted that she had missed the traditional gift. But now she was going to have her present. Five years too late. But better late than never.

  Haraldsson hurried back indoors and placed the little red box on the tray. Perfect. He picked up the tray and went upstairs.

  She was awake when he walked in. Smiling at him.

  He loved her so much.

  ‘Happy anniversary, darling,’ he said, putting the tray down on the floor before leaning forward to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

  ‘Happy anniversary to you too.’

  ‘I’ve made breakfast.’

  ‘I know, I heard you.’ She kissed him.

  He picked up the tray as she plumped the pillows and arranged them against the wall. They sat in bed side by side and ate their breakfast. He fed her with strawberries. She loved her ring.

  Just as he had expected, he was late for work.

  Annika was already there when he arrived. Of course.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Haraldsson said as he walked into her office, whistling. ‘It’s my wedding anniversary.’

  He didn’t need to apologise to Annika, of course; it was just a way of being able to talk about the fact that he had something to celebrate. He wanted everyone to know. Annika looked mildly interested.

  ‘I see. Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Victor rang a little while ago,’ Annika went on. ‘He’s sent an email, and he’d like an answer as soon as possible.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  ‘You can read it,’ Annika said, with a nod in the direction of Haraldsson’s office. ‘On your computer,’ she added, just to be on the safe side.

  ‘Can’t you print it out? That would be quicker; my computer isn’t switched on yet.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Good – could you bring it in, please?’

  Without waiting for an answer he went into his office, shrugged off his jacket and sat down behind his desk. He switched on the computer and picked up ‘Lövhaga 2014, Visions and Aims’. He just had time to open the folder before Annika knocked on the door, came in and handed over his print-out.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Haraldsson put the folder to one side and read the email.

  Dear Thomas,

  With regard to Edward Hinde’s phone call, which you approved yesterday. (By the way, this is something we need to discuss; I would prefer to be consulted when an inmate’s security arrangements are changed.) Apparently the call this morning means that Riksmord will be coming to speak to him later today. This is not a problem as far as I am concerned, but as usual you will need to approve a visiting order.

  Yours sincerely,

  Victor Bäckman

  Thomas read the email again. Hinde had called Vanja Lithner, and now she was coming to Lövhaga. Today.

  This didn’t feel right.

  It didn’t feel right at all.

  Haraldsson stood up and hurried out of his office.

  Edward Hinde was sitting in his usual place reading on the upper floor in the library when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. A wave of irritation swept over him. Was it the new inmate? If so he would have to have a word with Igor in the very near future so that Igor could explain to the new guy that there were rules which must be followed. His rules.

  But it wasn’t the new guy. It was Haraldsson. Edward closed the book about Napoleon and put it to one side. Haraldsson nodded to the guard who was standing a little way off, pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Edward. He leaned forward across the table, an eager expression on his face.

  ‘I want to be there,’ he whispered. Edward didn’t know whether this was because they were in a library, or so that the guard wouldn’t hear them. It didn’t matter.

  ‘Be where?’ Hinde wondered in all honesty.

  ‘I want to be there when you speak to Vanja Lithner.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘This is non-negotiable. I am going to be there.’ Haraldsson emphasised the point by almost slamming his fist down on the table. He stopped himself about a centimetre from the surface. Because they were in a library, Hinde assumed. There was no real reason why Haraldsson should be concerned about the guard hearing a thud from their direction.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Hinde repeated calmly.

  ‘In that case I won’t allow you to see her.’

  Edward’s eyes darkened, but Haraldsson was prepared for that. He had his reason at the ready.

  ‘I never promised that you would be allowed to see her,’ he said somewhat smugly. ‘I said you could make a phone call, not that you could see her. That will cost you an answer.’

  In his mind’s eye Hinde saw himself stand up, quickly lean forward, grab hold of Haraldsson’s head and slam it down on the table. Before the governor or the guard had time to react he saw himself move around the table, yank back Haraldsson’s head, place the palms of his hands on Haraldsson’s temples, and twist. Heard the sound of his neck breaking.

  However tempting the picture might be, he wasn’t going to do it. Still, it was time to show who was in charge here.

  ‘You seem to be an ambitious man, Thomas,’ he said quietly, but with an intensity that made every syllable hit home. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think this job means a lot to you.’

  Haraldsson nodded, not entirely comfortable with the direction this conversation was taking.

  ‘I have your . . . gifts in my cell,’ Hinde went on. ‘How will you explain to the board that you smuggle things in for me?’

  ‘I shall deny it.’

  ‘And will anyone believe you?’

  ‘They’ll believe me more than they’ll believe you.’

  Edward remained motionless, apart from his eyebrows, which shot up enquiringly. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’ Haraldsson looked into those dark, searching eyes and wished he was as certain as he hoped he sounded.

  ‘So if I reveal our little agreement, the fact that I tell you everything I know in return for the things I want, they’ll believe you and not me.’

  ‘Yes.’ Haraldsson could hear from his voice that his wish hadn’t been fulfilled.

  ‘And how will you explain the items I have?’ Hinde asked in a perfectly ordinary tone of voice, which contrasted sharply with the intensity of his gaze.

  ‘Someone else gave them to you.’

  ‘And you’re prepared to gamble your entire career on that?’

  Haraldsson sat in silence. He felt like a chess player who had only his king left, while his opponent had suddenly acquired another queen.

  ‘If they don’t believe you, it won’t just be a question of losing your job. You might be behind bars when the baby arrives.’

  Haraldsson leapt to his feet and went down the stairs without a word. Edward grinned. The plan was progressing nicely.

  Haraldsson stormed back to his office. That hadn’t gone according to plan at all. Now he would have to approve the visiting order. Hinde would see Vanja Lithner without him. But he would make sure he spoke to Vanja immediately afterwards. Force her to tell him what had emerged during the meeting. He could do that. It was his institution. His rules.

  For a moment he toyed with the idea of going to Hinde’s cell and searching for the photo of Jenny, the jar and the bottle. But what reason could he give if someone found him in the empty cell? An unscheduled search. He would never do that himself. It wasn’t his job. It would just look suspicious. And what if he didn’t find the items? No, the best thing would be to allow Hinde to have his meeting, and then to pump Vanja for information. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but what he did with the information he gleaned would be key. Vanja would have to report to Torkel. He could go higher up immediately. There was still hope.

  It could still be an utterly perfect day.

  She was expected.

  The guard opened the gate
as soon as he saw her. There was only one way into Lövhaga, and that was via the small security post. On her first two visits she had had to show her ID at the window, but now they recognised her and waved her through straight away. She walked along the path towards the main building, past the high fence topped with barbed wire. On the other side lay the open section. She could see some of the inmates sitting outside enjoying the sun in the exercise yard. It was obviously far too hot to play football; they had taken off their tops and were lying there relaxing. One of them sat up to look at her.

  ‘Are you coming to see me?’ he shouted, flexing his muscles.

  ‘You wish!’ she replied and continued to the second gate set in the second fence, which was also topped with barbed wire. This was the barrier separating the secure unit from the other buildings. This time the guard insisted on seeing her ID, and she had to hand over her gun. But he was also expecting her.

  ‘That was quick,’ the guard said. ‘They said you probably wouldn’t be here until about twelve.’

  ‘There was hardly any traffic.’

  ‘Haraldsson asked me to take you straight in.’

  ‘He’s not going to be there, is he?’ She couldn’t hide her displeasure at the thought.

  ‘No, but he asked me to let him know when you arrived.’ The guard locked her gun in the grey safe, took out the key and called his colleague over the radio. ‘Edward Hinde’s visitor has arrived.’

  Vanja nodded to him and went to wait on the gravelled area outside the security post. After a few minutes another guard came to collect her. He led her to a huge reinforced door and opened it for her. They passed through two more security doors, turned left down a corridor and went up some stairs. They didn’t seem to be heading for the same room as last time, although it was difficult for her to tell exactly; the interior of Lövhaga looked the same everywhere. Institutional pale blue, and poor lighting. Finally the guard stopped.

  ‘Wait here. As you’re alone we need to make sure he’s properly secured before you go in.’

  Vanja nodded, but a part of her was wondering if they would have had the same concerns about security if she had been a man. Probably not. But perhaps it was hardly surprising. Hinde definitely had a particular relationship with women. Even though she was convinced that she could take care of herself, she was grateful. She respected danger, although she would never admit to anyone that she was slightly nervous. She went into a small waiting room and sat down on a sofa. The room was dark and stuffy; the only light came from a small barred window high up. She leaned back on the hard sofa. Tried to calm her nerves. Everything had happened at top speed today. The meeting that had been interrupted by Hinde, and the rapid, unexpected trip to Lövhaga. And then there was Sebastian’s behaviour. He really had overstepped the mark today, and seemed to have lost the plot completely. Torkel had called a few minutes after she left to tell her that Sebastian had gone after her in Ursula’s car. Vanja had switched on her blue light, and fortunately there had been no sign of Ursula’s car in her rear-view mirror.