He paced nervously back and forth across the road. Kicked at the gravel along the kerb in frustration. Picked dandelions and flicked the heads off the stalks with his thumb, just as he used to do when he was a child. He needed to blot out the thought of Lövhaga’s absurd bureaucracy by engaging in simple physical actions, and above all he needed to suppress his anxiety about Vanja. Those idiots behind the fence wouldn’t even confirm that she was in there, in spite of the fact that he could see her car. They let him stay where he was, but nothing else. It was just like the rest of his life right now. He was stuck in a no-man’s-land where nobody could even be bothered to fight with him anymore.
He was slipping away from the centre of events. Joining the investigation was supposed to enable him to get closer to Vanja. To get a life. Perhaps even to solve the case, although that hadn’t been his real motive at the outset. But all that was before Hinde. Before this turned into a personal conflict. Before all the gates began to slam in his face. Because it wasn’t only the steel gate leading into Lövhaga that was closed to him. He had called Torkel from the car, hoping he would somehow be able to persuade him to stop Vanja. He hadn’t answered. Hadn’t called back. Nor had Billy. And it was his own fault; he was the one who had managed to turn everyone against him. He couldn’t blame anyone else, however much he might want to. At the same time his anxiety over the danger in which Vanja might find herself had diminished. She was sensible, and wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. Hinde wouldn’t be interested in anything as banal as a straightforward hostage scenario. No, he always had bigger plans. The only question was what those plans might be.
Hinde knew the truth. Sebastian could feel it. That was why he had requested permission to see Vanja.
Was he going to tell her?
Or was that also too banal for him?
Sebastian hated not knowing. He started pacing again. Walked past the gate and peered in. Suddenly he spotted Vanja. She was hurrying across the yard towards her car. Should he call out to her? Wave? Should he just stand there? What did she know? He saw her glance in his direction, but she didn’t react in any way. He might have been no more than fresh air. Her lack of interest cheered him.
She didn’t know.
If she had known there would have been fury or disgust in her eyes, not total indifference. Perhaps that wasn’t a cause for celebration under normal circumstances, but given the current situation it was the best possible outcome. He realised he was smiling to himself. Grinning, in fact.
She couldn’t believe her eyes as she drove towards the gate. Was he really standing there blocking the road with a scornful grin on his face? She wound down the window and leaned out. ‘Excuse me, you’re in the way.’
‘I want to talk to you,’ he ventured.
‘But I don’t want to talk to you.’
She stopped the car a few centimetres away from him. He didn’t dare move; if he did she would probably just put her foot down and disappear.
‘I have to know. What did Hinde want?’
‘He gave me the name of the murderer.’
The little smile that had been playing around Sebastian’s lips until now vanished immediately. He hadn’t expected this. ‘What? What do you mean?’
‘He said he knew who the murderer was. Someone called Ralph Svensson, apparently. He’s a cleaner here at Lövhaga. We know he’s had the opportunity to be in contact with Hinde.’
‘And you believe Hinde?’
‘I have no reason not to. We follow up every lead, don’t we?’
‘Why would he tell you?’
‘The real question is why didn’t he tell you? I mean, you’re supposed to be the expert. The one who knew how to get him to talk.’
She couldn’t keep the malicious pleasure out of her voice. She didn’t even try. Without thinking, Sebastian walked up to her.
‘And he had nothing to do with all this? Do you really believe that?’
‘I’m a police officer. I don’t have an opinion. I investigate. Excuse me.’
She put her foot down, the tyres gripped the road with a screech and the car shot forward. He jumped aside instinctively and watched her drive away.
Left behind again.
He was starting to get used to it.
While he was in the car on the way to Västertorp, where Ralph Svensson lived, Torkel received permission to search Svensson’s apartment. After a long conversation on the telephone, Gunnar Hallén, the prosecutor, had finally given his approval. There was strong circumstantial evidence, but it was the evaluation of Hinde’s testimony that was the problem. The fact that he had been sentenced to life imprisonment didn’t exactly help in terms of his credibility. It had taken a lot of persuasion on Torkel’s part, but Torkel knew that Hallén was going to give his permission when it came down to it. This was the kind of high-profile case that was absolutely crucial in terms of career prospects. Searching a property on slightly less than adequate grounds wasn’t as bad as failing to act at all.
Torkel had asked Billy to organise an emergency response team to break down the door if necessary, and had got into the car with him shortly afterwards. He wanted to be on the spot, ready to move as soon as they got the go-ahead. There was no time to lose on logistics and transport. Vanja would join them in Västertorp as soon as possible. He didn’t even bother calling Sebastian.
Billy parked in the turning area behind a number of red apartment blocks dating from the 1950s. Ralph Svensson’s place was three hundred metres away, up on a hill closer to the small centre, which had had its heyday long ago. Billy made contact with the leader of the emergency response team, who promised they would be there in five minutes. Then he called Ursula and told her where they had parked.
Torkel walked around, gazing at the leafy surroundings and the freestanding apartment blocks. The warm breeze carried with it the smell of food and the sound of music from open windows. He could hear laughter somewhere. A group of children were whooping as they cycled around a sandpit a short distance away.
Billy opened the boot and took out a bullet-proof vest which he began to put on.
Torkel looked at him enquiringly. ‘We’ll let the experts go in first.’
‘I want to be there. It’s our case.’
‘Yes, it is. We don’t need to break down doors to prove that.’
‘Okay. I’ll go in just as an observer.’
Torkel shook his head. Billy had definitely changed in the last few weeks. In the past he had been perfectly happy to play second fiddle, and to support both Torkel and Vanja on the IT side of things. Now he wanted to storm into an apartment with a gun in his hand.
‘We will do what we have always done,’ Torkel said firmly. ‘They will secure the suspect. Then we will take over.’
Billy nodded, but didn’t take off the vest. He looked like a defiant teenager.
Torkel walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Has something happened? It feels as if there’s a certain amount of …’ he searched for the right word, ‘… friction in the team. Mainly between you and Vanja.’
Billy didn’t reply. Torkel kept his hand where it was.
‘You need to talk to me about this. We’re a team, but it doesn’t always feel that way at the moment.’
‘Do you think I’m a good police officer?’ Billy looked candidly at Torkel. It was the first time Torkel could ever remember Billy referring to himself with the slightest hint of uncertainty.
‘You wouldn’t be working with me if you weren’t,’ Torkel replied.
Billy nodded. ‘But if we’re a team, why are we treated differently?’
‘Because we are different,’ Torkel said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘We have different strengths, different weaknesses. We complement each other.’
‘And Vanja is the best police officer.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Okay, but if Vanja had put on this vest and wanted to go in as an observer, would you have stopped her?’
He didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
Ralph had just sat down at the computer and started to log in to fygorh.se. He would send a message to the Master. Confess his failure. He had waited outside the front door of Ellinor’s apartment block until dark yesterday, hoping that she would come back. She hadn’t.
He was worn out when he got home. Followed his usual routine and switched on all the lights in order. Then he stopped. At a loss. The sports bag and the food. What should he do with them? Unfortunately it seemed that he would have to come up with a ritual for when he had failed. He thought it over for a while, then came to the conclusion that the best and most natural course of action was to go through the preparation ritual, but in reverse order. He removed the chlorine bottle from the carrier bag and replaced it in the cupboard under the sink, put all the food and drink back in the fridge, then folded the bag and put it away in the cleaning cupboard. Went into the bedroom. Unpacked the nylon stockings and the nightdress and placed them in the top drawer. Then he stopped. He really ought to put the sports bag in the space between the clothes now, but in that case what should he do with the knife? It hadn’t been used, but with all the setbacks of the past few days his need to follow the rules to the letter felt so much greater. He decided to take the bag into the kitchen. There he removed the knife, rinsed and washed it, dried it and put it back in the sports bag with a fresh three-litre plastic bag. He threw the old one in the cupboard under the sink and went back into the bedroom. Now he could put the sports bag away in the top drawer and close it. All done.
He fell into bed, exhausted. The room was bright and warm; the hundred-watt bulbs in every corner took away the shadows, every last scrap of the terrifying darkness, and calmed him.
He had slept for a couple of hours. Woken from his dreamless sleep and tried to get going. He had spent the morning looking for Ellinor Bergkvist. She wasn’t at work, and they had refused to say when they thought she might be back. He had tried calling Taxi Stockholm to ask if they could tell him where the cab with the registration number JXU346 had dropped the woman who had been picked up on Västmannagatan at about four o’clock yesterday afternoon. This was not the kind of information they were prepared to give out just like that, and when they asked who he was he had hung up. He hadn’t found her. He had failed.
Ralph typed in his username and password. A message. From the Master. Sent during the night.
The message was brief and concise.
‘You are me now.’
That was all it said. Ralph got up and walked around the room, confused but somehow excited at the same time. He had been elevated to the status of an equal. There was no other way to interpret it. He felt a glow inside; he hadn’t expected this at all.
But what did it mean? Was he no longer to receive orders from the Master? Was he to act completely on his own initiative? Evolve under his own steam?
He was lost in speculation when he heard something that sounded like a minor explosion from the front door. Seconds later, black-clad figures wearing helmets came storming in, carrying what looked like automatic firearms pointing straight at him.
‘Police! Get down on the floor!’ screamed the figures. With lightning speed Ralph threw himself at the computer, grabbed hold of it and hurled it at the wall. Shards of plastic and electronic components flew everywhere. He rushed forward and stamped on the remains of the computer until burly men came and forced him to the floor. He didn’t even struggle as they bent back his arms and snapped on the handcuffs. He looked at the broken computer in front of him. He had protected the Master.
They were rough. But it didn’t matter. In fact, Ralph was suddenly suffused with a feeling of calm. This feeling grew as more black-clad figures entered the room and carried him out of the apartment. He had reached the next phase, and now he understood the full import of the Master’s message.
You are me now.
Indeed he was.
Vanja arrived just as the emergency response team drove off with Ralph Svensson. From her car she had seen them lifting a tall, skinny man wearing a polo shirt and grey trousers into the back. He wasn’t even struggling, he was just lying motionless as the four officers carried him. Vanja watched them disappear before she got out of her car. She slammed the door and walked over to the apartment block. She was angry, and the sight of Billy wearing a bullet-proof vest and smiling at her from the doorway didn’t exactly help.
‘We got him, Vanja. It’s him.’
‘Why couldn’t you have waited for me?’ She walked towards him. ‘It was my tip-off. It was me who got the name out of him.’
Billy’s smile vanished immediately, to be replaced by the coldness she had encountered before. ‘Speak to Torkel. It was his decision.’
He walked away. Left her standing there. A short distance away she could see Torkel with the leader of the emergency response team. They were deep in conversation, and the other officer was gesticulating. They seemed to be going through the operation. Vanja set off towards them, but changed her mind. She didn’t have the strength to fight with Torkel as well. And his decision had been the right one. She would have done the same if it had been up to her. The important thing was to act quickly, not who did what.
The professional side of things was just one aspect. The other was personal and was related to her position within the team, everyone’s roles, and the division of responsibility. Everything that had been so clear and straightforward before this case. She watched as Torkel and the other officer shook hands and said goodbye.
‘Well done, Vanja,’ Torkel called as he walked over to her.
‘Thanks. How sure are we?’
‘Ursula is in there now. She’s doing a preliminary assessment on her own to avoid any risk of contamination, but it looks like a goldmine.’
‘Really?’
Torkel nodded calmly. He seemed relaxed, and Vanja realised that he was already convinced they had the right man. She felt some of her irritation ebbing away; this was something to celebrate. They might just have solved the case.
‘Ten identical nightdresses, nylon stockings, a leather folder full of newspaper cuttings about the murders,’ Torkel went on. ‘A knife that seems to match the wounds. And a wall covered in pictures of the victims.’
‘But that’s brilliant,’ Vanja said; she was astonished. Was it really going to be that easy to tie Ralph Svensson to the murders?
‘Absolutely, and she’s only just started. The DNA will take a day or so, at least for a preliminary result.’
Vanja nodded, and they looked at each other with something approaching affection. Both of them felt the weight of this moment. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining beyond the long shadow cast by the building where they were standing, making the grass look soft and inviting. It felt as if they were walking into the sunshine. Away from the shadows in which they had found themselves for such a long time.
‘I’m sorry we took him without you,’ Torkel said kindly. ‘But we couldn’t wait.’
‘I understand that,’ she said without hesitation. ‘It was a good decision.’
Billy came up to them. He had taken off the bullet-proof vest. ‘Ursula says it will be a few hours at least before we can go in.’
The other two nodded, but said nothing. They stood there together in silence, gazing out at the sunshine and greenery.
Like a team.
The way things used to be.
The sound of Billy’s phone broke the silence. His new girlfriend, they realised from the softness of his tone. He moved away to discuss their plans for the evening.
Torkel turned to Vanja. ‘Hallén is going to want to hold a press conference this afternoon. I’d like you there.’
‘But you usually deal with that kind of thing,’ she said, surprised.
‘I know, but I want you to do it. It’s thanks to you that we’ve cracked this.’
She smiled at him. Knew exactly why she had applied to work with Torkel Höglund and Riksmord. Because he was a good boss. Because he understood people. Understood that everyone needed to feel involved.
Sebastian had arrived at the police station around one o’clock. Looked for Torkel and the others. Nobody could tell him where they were. Eventually one of the uniformed officers he usually said hello to told him they were out on an operation. To the south of Stockholm, apparently, and it had gone well. Frustrated, Sebastian had called every single member of the team. Started with Torkel and worked his way down. None of them answered. He got an idea and headed for the remand centre, which was next door to the station, to see if he could find any of them there. Perhaps they were on their way to arrest this Ralph Svensson, whose name Hinde had given to Vanja for some inexplicable reason. No one there. No one who was prepared to tell him whether anyone was on their way in either. He was back in no-man’s-land.
He went outside. Up to Fridhemsplan and the supervised entrance to the underground car park. He knew they would probably use it when they got back. Sat down on the grass a short distance away and waited. The guard stared at him suspiciously from his booth, but didn’t challenge him. Sebastian was in a public area, and had done nothing illegal. A middle-aged man in a crumpled jacket, who lay down in the overgrown grass after a while. To the Securitas guard he must have looked like an alcoholic who had been heading for Kronoberg Park but who had run out of steam and flopped down on the first patch of grass he found. Only the bottle was missing.
He felt utterly worthless. A first-class degree, years of further study at institutions which included the FBI’s Quantico Academy in the USA, a bestselling author, one of the Swedish police service’s top profilers for a number of years, and yet the only hope he had left now was that the others would happen to drive past and that in some magical way he could become part of the investigation again. That was his only plan, the only solution he had managed to dig out of his enormous toolkit of knowledge. To stick with it.
The Man Who Watched Women Page 40