The Disciple

by Michael Hjorth

  Vanja walked along the track towards the car. She used her wristband to wipe off the sweat trickling down her forehead. Rubbed her cheek against her shoulder. Curious insects started buzzing around her, attracted by the perspiration and the heat she was giving off.

  The car was empty. She shaded her eyes as she peered in through the window. Something dark had run down the seat and onto the floor. Blood, possibly. Tentatively she tried the door. She didn’t have any gloves with her. Locked. She moved to the right and looked in the back. Nothing. She was just about to get out her phone and call in when she noticed it.

  The smell. The stench. Unmistakeable.

  Vanja moved behind the car to the boot. She didn’t really need to open it. She knew what she would find. Not who, but what.

  Musty. Sweet, yet acrid at the same time. Slightly metallic.

  The smell of a dead body.

  She tried the handle, hoping the boot would also be locked. It wasn’t. It opened with a click, and Vanja quickly turned away, her hand to her mouth. Once she had her gag reflex under control, she turned back. Her breathing was shallow, through her mouth only.

  It was a man. Elderly. Swollen. Bloated. Bluish-green. Thin, brownish-red fluid seeping from blisters which had burst. Decomposition fluid trickling from the mouth and nostrils. The whole impression was one of moisture, almost wetness. Vanja slammed the boot shut and moved back a few steps as she took out her phone.

  The last call hadn’t been from Sebastian, she noticed. It had been from Torkel.

  She heard a snapping sound behind her. She spun around, on full alert. A huge man was standing six or seven metres away. Broken nose, hair in a ponytail, a red scar running from above his left eye and down over his cheek. Roland Johansson. He must have been behind the pile of timber. He had got close without her hearing him. Vanja slowly began to move backwards. Roland walked towards her. No sense of urgency. Keeping his distance. After just a few steps Vanja felt the car against the back of her thighs. She glanced down briefly, then back at Roland. The adrenaline was pumping. She could feel her heart pounding as she slid along the car until she couldn’t feel it behind her any longer. One more step to the right. She was in the middle of the track now. Nothing behind her to get in the way.

  Roland Johansson. Big. Strong.

  She would never be able to defeat him in hand-to-hand combat. But she would be able to outrun him. He kept on coming. One step forward. Vanja took one step back. Calm. In control. Careful where she put her foot down. She mustn’t stumble – that would be the end of it. Kept her distance. Ready to turn and run. Explode. He would never close the seven-metre gap between them. No chance. She could do this.

  Roland stopped.

  Now! Vanja turned and pushed off with her left foot as hard as she could. She was off . . .

  . . . and immediately felt a burning pain in her chest, which spread through her entire body. Her right foot, which was supposed to move her forward, quivered helplessly, unable to gain any kind of purchase on the gravel. Her knees gave way. From far away she heard a scream, and as the ground rushed up towards her she realised that the scream was coming from her. The fall must have hurt, but she didn’t register the pain at all. It couldn’t compete with the initial agony that was still coursing through her body. Tiny stones pressed into her cheek as she lay there shaking. Through her tears she could see a figure approaching. She blinked. Hard. Couldn’t say if the action was deliberate or not. Her body still refused to obey her. She was able to see clearly for a few seconds. Although it couldn’t be true.

  It was unthinkable. Impossible.

  It was Edward Hinde.

  With a Taser.

  Sebastian yanked open the glass door and raced into the police station. Without a pass he only got as far as the woman on reception. She refused to let him in, however much he yelled. And Torkel hadn’t arrived yet. He had called Sebastian a few minutes after their first conversation to say that Vanja wasn’t taking his calls either. He had sounded significantly more worried this time, and said he was going to ring Billy to see if he knew where Vanja was. Torkel himself was on his way to the station.

  That was ten minutes ago.

  Sebastian ran back outside; as long as he was moving, things were less painful. He took out his phone and walked down towards Hantverkargatan as he waited for Torkel to answer. He spotted Torkel in his car a short distance away; he ended the call and ran towards the dark-coloured car, waving and shouting out Torkel’s name. People on the street turned around, but he didn’t care. Torkel must have seen him; the car braked and did a U-turn just past the traffic lights before speeding back towards him. It pulled up just in front of Sebastian and Torkel leapt out.

  ‘Billy thinks she’s gone for a run. That’s what she told him she was going to do.’

  ‘She usually runs behind the Royal Institute of Technology.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I think she once mentioned it,’ Sebastian added.

  He knew exactly where she went running, of course. He had followed her several times. Not around the actual route, but to the point where she started and ended the circuit. She would probably go for the longer route; she usually did when she had time. If he had followed her, then perhaps Ralph had done the same. Shadowing the shadow. In which case Hinde might well know too.

  Sebastian had been standing still for too long; the panic was back. ‘We have to find her!’ he yelled. He tore open the passenger door as Torkel tried to calm him down.

  ‘Billy’s on his way. We’re just waiting for him. He’s been running with her a few times, so he might have more accurate information.’

  Sebastian sighed; he really didn’t want to wait. But Billy’s knowledge of the circuit would make everything easier.

  ‘So where is he then?’

  ‘He’ll be here any minute.’ Torkel looked at him, his expression serious.

  ‘Send a team in now.’

  Torkel nodded and made a phone call. Sebastian just wanted to get moving. He was trembling, but was trying not to show it. As Torkel directed patrols to Lill-Jansskogen he pointed towards a figure cycling in their direction. Billy. He seemed to appreciate the urgency of the situation; he was pedalling furiously. Sebastian and Torkel went to meet him; Billy was breathing heavily.

  ‘We need to move. You’re driving, Billy.’

  They ran back to the car. As they were getting in, one of their mobiles rang. The vibration told Sebastian it was his. He took it out and turned to the others. ‘Hang on.’

  He looked at the display. It was the number he had been longing to see. He let out a long breath. ‘It’s Vanja.’

  He answered immediately. ‘Where are you?’

  The voice on the other end was not Vanja’s.

  ‘Sebastian.’

  It was Edward Hinde.

  Torkel and Billy watched as the colour drained from Sebastian’s face.

  ‘What do you want?’

  The others suddenly realised who he was talking to. Nobody else would have provoked that reaction.

  Hinde spoke with the easy assurance of the victor in his voice. ‘I think you know that better than anyone. When were you thinking of telling her?’

  Sebastian turned away from the others. He wanted to hide his feelings. He couldn’t stand in the spotlight as his life fell apart.

  ‘At first glance you two aren’t particularly alike, but I shall be examining her more closely now I have the opportunity.’

  ‘If you touch her I’ll kill you!’

  ‘Is that really the best you can do? You really are out of practice, Sebastian. It used to be a joy to listen to the way you put things. But I’ve come to realise that you’re not quite so sharp these days.’

  Sebastian could feel Hinde’s pleasure through the telephone. This was what he had been waiting for all these years.

  ‘Shut up. I’m tired of your games. You don’t touch Vanja!’

  ‘You stopped me after four murders, and I stopped Ralph after four mur
ders. Doesn’t that seem somehow poetic to you? We’re just getting more and more alike, you and I.’

  ‘I don’t murder women.’

  ‘No, you just fuck them. But your women are every bit as interchangeable as mine. They are all merely . . . objects. You just haven’t had the courage to go all the way yet. You’d enjoy it . . .’

  Sebastian almost passed out. The very thought of Vanja in the hands of the man on the other end of the phone was unbearable.

  ‘You sick bastard . . .’

  He couldn’t reach Hinde that way. Sebastian could call him whatever he liked. Every single name in his vocabulary. It was of no significance; they were merely words. It was Hinde who held all the cards right now.

  ‘Speaking of going all the way . . . Can you cope with losing another daughter?’

  Sebastian had to make a real effort to hold on to the phone. He actually wanted to drop it, and to fall to the ground along with it. Two daughters. Both dead. What would he have to live for?

  Then Hinde was gone, the connection broken. Sebastian stared at Billy and Torkel, who were almost as pale as he was.

  ‘Hinde’s got her. He wants me to find him.’

  That was what it was all about.

  It wasn’t about taking his revenge through others.

  It was genuine revenge he wanted. Hinde was after Sebastian’s life.

  Right now, at this particular moment, that was something Sebastian was prepared to accept. If he could just find him.

  He looked at Torkel. ‘I need to speak to Ralph.’

  Torkel took Sebastian’s pass out of his pocket and handed it over. ‘Let’s go.’

  He remembered the brimstone butterflies from his childhood. They loved the meadow behind the house. When he was little he had managed to capture some of them. He would place them under an upturned glass and watch with interest as they tried to escape. Sometimes he let them die, trapped inside the glass. Sometimes he would rip off their wings and watch them crawl around in circles until they finished up motionless on their backs. It didn’t really matter which method he chose. It was the struggle he wanted to observe. The struggle to survive, even though the outcome was already determined. It had been a constant throughout his life, finding the moment when the victim ceases to fight and simply accepts the inevitable. Few people achieved it.

  He went on towards the house. It was a long time since anyone had been there. It felt good. The broken windows and the rotting wooden facade perfectly suited the scenario he had carried within him for so long.

  Fantasised about.

  Dreamed of.

  Now, at last, it would become a reality. After this, it would be difficult to come up with a better fantasy to realise. Because she really was his daughter. There was no longer any doubt about that. Sebastian’s reaction on the telephone had removed the last shred of doubt.

  Roland had carried her into the house from the car. She was strong and had kept on fighting in spite of the sack over her head and the cable ties around her arms and legs. In the doorway she had tensed like a steel spring, and Edward could see that Roland was thinking of banging her head against the heavy doorframe to calm her down. He managed to stop him. He used the Taser again, pressing it against the back of her neck so that her entire body first went rigid, then slack in Roland’s arms. He didn’t want her damaged in transit. She must be as pure and lovely as possible. No grazes or bruising.

  The two of them moved the old metal-framed bed into the large bedroom. He had been so pleased when Roland told him it was still there. The wallpaper was coming away from the walls, but he recognised the blue fleur-de-lis pattern that was still visible here and there. The room smelled musty and mouldy, but it would have to do. Nothing that a few scented candles couldn’t fix. They arranged the thin mattress that Roland had brought over earlier. Tied her legs tightly to the bedstead and checked that she was secure. She was sweaty from the struggle, and Hinde caressed her warm skin reassuringly. Then they went out to fetch the rest of the things from the car.

  Roland had parked the Toyota right by the gate. It was a warm evening, and they walked in silence through the grass which had begun to turn yellow with the lack of rain in recent weeks. He always felt so safe when he was walking along beside Roland’s bulk. He had missed him, but now everything was fine again. When they reached the car Roland took out the large brown box which had been in the back seat all the way there. It seemed to be quite heavy. Edward looked at his friend.

  ‘Did you bring everything?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, but you’d better check to be on the safe side.’

  Hinde shook his head. ‘I trust you.’

  He took the box and put it down. Turned to Roland, who was removing his jacket from the car and getting ready to go back to the house. Edward stopped him.

  ‘This is where we part company. It’s up to me now. Dump the car, will you? Leave the body in the boot.’

  Roland nodded. Held out his hand, and they shook on it.

  ‘You take care, Roland.’

  ‘I will.’

  He gave Roland a hug too. Between friends. Roland jumped into the silver car, put it in first gear and drove away. Hinde stood watching the car as it headed for the trees a short distance away. The early evening made the forest look dark, and soon the car had disappeared. The sound of the engine died away, and silence reigned.

  There was no one here now except him and Vanja.

  With a little bit of luck, Sebastian would soon be here too.

  He picked up the heavy box and walked back to the dilapidated house. He had a lot to do.

  The room was small. It smelled stuffy. Dust and sweat. The ventilation system was old, and the temperature was close to thirty degrees. Sebastian silently thanked the architect for the fact that it had no windows. If the sun had been shining in, it would have been unbearable. Torkel and Sebastian were sitting side by side, with Ralph Svensson opposite. Dressed in anonymous, regulation remand-centre clothing. Shoulders slumped. His gaze moved from one to the other, finally settling on Torkel.

  ‘I’ll talk to him. Nobody else.’ Ralph nodded towards Sebastian.

  ‘That’s not your decision.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Ralph fell silent. Folded his hands over his stomach. Let his chin fall to his chest. Torkel sighed. He had no intention of letting protocol stand in the way of a possible result. Ralph was a link to Hinde, who had taken his colleague and friend. There was no time for anything but the approach that would lead to success in the shortest time. Torkel pushed back his chair and got to his feet. Placed a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder before he left the room without a word.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Ralph raised his head and met Sebastian’s gaze. He sat up straight, placed his forearms on the table, leaned forward. Sebastian sat in silence, waiting. Ralph looked at him searchingly. Something he had inherited from Hinde, but Sebastian doubted whether Ralph had all that much to back it up with. But he could play along for a while. It suited him very well, this silent game that was going on. It gave him time to gather his thoughts. Put his feelings to one side. Suppress his anxiety. Getting emotional wouldn’t help Vanja. He needed to bring out the Sebastian who had once existed.

  Ice-cold. Flexible. Analytical.

  The man who could make a difference.

  ‘Sebastian Bergman. I get to meet you at last.’ Ralph broke the silence with a comment that revealed a certain fascination with his opponent. He was grateful for the meeting. This gave Sebastian a certain advantage. Svensson definitely wasn’t in the same league as Hinde.

  ‘How are you?’ Sebastian asked, keeping his tone neutral, not responding to Ralph’s opening remark with so much as a smile of acknowledgement.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Sebastian shrugged. ‘It’s a simple question. How are you?’

  ‘Why do you want to know that?’

  Sebastian didn’t want to know at all, but the years had taught him that it was an excellent question to sta
rt with. In all its simplicity it revealed more about the opponent than you might think. In this case the reluctance to answer might indicate that Ralph wasn’t used to anyone asking about his feelings. He was uncomfortable. Or perhaps those who had asked didn’t care about the answer, and therefore it was unnecessary to work out what to say on the subject. It might also indicate that Ralph had had bad experiences when it came to exposing himself emotionally, that too much openness had led to some kind of punishment. Sebastian didn’t bother going into it. He quickly moved on and tried a different approach. Slightly provocative.

  ‘How does it feel to be nothing more than a pawn in Edward’s game?’

  ‘It feels good. Better than just being Ralph.’

  Sebastian digested this information.

  Better than just being Ralph.

  Weak personality. Inadequate. The idea that he had gone to Hinde and simply confessed was just nonsense, of course. Never in a million years would the man opposite him have come up with such an impressive idea. He would never do something like that. It would surprise Sebastian if he had succeeded at anything in his life. However, it was certainly true that he idolised Hinde. The newspaper cuttings they had found in Ralph’s apartment told their own story.

  Approval and acknowledgement.

  Hinde had given him both, which would make it more difficult for Sebastian to get what he wanted. More difficult, but not impossible. All he had to do was drive a wedge between them.

  ‘Do you know how we found you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You know who gave us your name?’

  ‘Yes, they told me.’

  ‘It must feel strange to be betrayed by someone you trust.’

  ‘If the Master has a plan and this is a part of it, then . . .’ Ralph spread his arms wide, palms up. If you didn’t know that he had killed four women, you might almost think he was a pious soul. ‘I am only a simple man, trying to follow in the footsteps of a great man,’ he went on.