‘Where are we going?’ Ralph wanted to know.
‘To the car park.’
After about twenty metres Sebastian stopped in front of a white door with two large lever handle locks, both angled up to the left. The words SAFE ROOM were stencilled in the middle of the door, with a notice underneath stating that a maximum of sixty people could be accommodated inside.
‘Wait …’
Ralph stopped; Sebastian turned the handles to the right and opened the door, its hinges screeching. He groped around and found the light switches, then grabbed hold of Ralph’s arm.
‘What are you doing? Why are we going in here?’
Ralph resisted, but Sebastian more or less dragged him into the room and over to a radiator fixed to the wall opposite the door. He took out the key to the handcuffs, freed one of Ralph’s hands, spun him around a quarter turn and fastened one of the handcuffs to the radiator instead.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Edward is good. But he’s been stuck in Lövhaga for fourteen years because I put him there …’
Sebastian walked back to the door and left the safe room. Ralph looked around nervously. He could hear Sebastian’s footsteps echoing along the corridor. The room was painted white. There were two benches fixed to one wall, but otherwise it was empty. Sebastian reappeared, carrying an old wooden chair.
‘… which means I’m better,’ he concluded his sentence.
He put the chair down just inside the door.
‘You might be better than Edward, but you’re handcuffed to a radiator …’
Sebastian turned and closed the door. The bare room amplified the sound as the heavy metal door slammed shut and Sebastian turned both locks. Ralph swallowed. They were locked in. He didn’t like it.
‘So I’m the best.’
Sebastian didn’t appear to be in a hurry; he walked slowly over to Ralph. Came and stood very close. Ralph found it difficult to look him in the eye. This didn’t feel good. This didn’t feel good at all.
‘But do you know what I’m not?’ Sebastian didn’t bother waiting for a reply. ‘I’m not a police officer. Which means I can do this.’
Suddenly and with absolutely no warning he head-butted Ralph. His aim was perfect. His forehead hit Ralph smack bang in the middle of his nose. There was a crunching sound and blood began to pour from both nostrils. Ralph cried out and collapsed. Sebastian walked calmly back to the chair and sat down. He watched as Ralph raised his free hand to his nose and stared at the blood, as if he couldn’t grasp that it was coming from him. Hitting Ralph gave Sebastian no pleasure whatsoever. However, it was a rapid and effective way of making him realise that Sebastian was capable of absolutely anything. It seemed to have worked. Ralph was still staring at the blood with a look of pure shock on his face and tears in his eyes. Sebastian leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands.
‘I’m very good at forming an impression of a person by seeing how he lives. I’ve been to your apartment.’
Ralph sat there taking short breaths through his nose in an attempt to stop the flow of blood, which meant he had to swallow it instead. He was breathing heavily. Struggling. He really didn’t want to lose. He had seized the power. He wasn’t going to allow Sebastian to take it away from him. He would not permit that to happen. He was stronger than he had ever been.
‘It’s a question of finding the patterns,’ Sebastian went on. ‘In the little things. Seeing the connections. There were no blinds in your apartment. Not even in the bedroom. You had a torch in the bathroom. One by the bed. One in every room, in fact. A box full of fuses, batteries, spare bulbs.’
He paused for effect.
‘I would say that you don’t like the dark.’
The look he got from Ralph confirmed how right he was.
‘What happens in the dark, Ralph? What comes to you in the dark? What are you so afraid of?’
‘Nothing …’ Barely a whisper.
‘So it’s okay if I turn off the lights?’
Sebastian straightened up and reached for the double switch on the wall. Ralph didn’t answer. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting all over the room. Sebastian thought he could see beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. The room wasn’t hot.
‘Please, I know where he is,’ Ralph begged.
‘I believe you. But as I said to Edward, I’m tired of playing games with psychopaths.’
‘I’m not playing games.’
‘I can’t take the risk.’
Sebastian flicked one of the switches. One row of lights went out. Ralph screamed.
‘It will be so dark in here that you won’t know if your eyes are closed or open,’ Sebastian said quietly.
Just like back there, Ralph thought. Like it was in the cellar. With them.
He started shaking, tugging at the handcuff. Hyperventilating. Sebastian hesitated. Ralph’s reaction was stronger than he could have imagined. He was obviously terrified. But Sebastian had to go on. He conjured up a mental picture of Annette Willén. If that wasn’t enough, he had the pictures of Vanja on his phone.
It was enough.
He turned off the lights.
Ralph gasped and held his breath. He pressed himself against the wall and curled up into a ball, making himself as small as possible. He tried to keep quiet, but he could hear that every time he exhaled he was whimpering helplessly. Was that a strip of light, or a visual memory in his over-stressed brain? Was that the sound of the door opening? Yes, it was. They came creeping in. Naked. They had found him. The people in the animal masks. The animals in human form. They were breathing. Whispering.
‘Switch the light on. Please … switch the light on.’
A thin beam of light was shining in his face. The torch on Sebastian’s phone. Ralph turned towards it, trying to absorb as much of it as he could. The animal people were waiting in the shadows all around him. Swaying from side to side. Dancing with peculiar, padding footsteps. Waiting for the darkness to swallow him up again so that they could come close.
Around him.
On him.
Inside him.
‘Where’s Edward?’ Sebastian asked, invisible behind the light.
He turned off the torch.
‘Off.’
The darkness. Swallowing him up.
‘On.’
The light came back.
‘Off.’
It was gone again.
‘On. Which do you prefer?’
Ralph was incapable of answering. All he could do was pant.
‘Off.’
Ralph was holding his breath. There was complete silence in the darkness. Apart from the whispering. The soft footsteps. The movement of the naked bodies. He was not alone. Never alone.
‘Sebastian …’
No response. Something grabbed hold of his leg. Ralph let out a roar of anguish. He was transported straight back.
To the past.
To them.
It struck him with full force. More than a memory. He could smell it. Taste it. He could hear the sounds. They were here. Touching him. They were wild. It had been such a long time. It would never end. He tried to shake them off. Spun around, writhing and kicking. He felt a burning pain as the skin around his wrist was torn off. He banged his head on the radiator. Yanked at the handcuffs again, felt something snap inside his wrist. It didn’t matter. He was incapable of screaming anymore.
The light went on. He was bathed in light. White, healing light from the ceiling. Sebastian came over to him. Ralph smiled gratefully.
‘Where did it begin, Ralph? Where are they?’
He wanted to tell him. Wanted to yell it at the top of his voice. But all he could manage was a staccato mumble. Sebastian bent down.
‘Åk-er-s-st …’
Sebastian leaned even closer. Ralph’s hot breath against his ear. Only a whisper now. He listened and straightened up.
‘Thank you.’
What could he say? This wasn’t his proude
st moment. But he had said so many times that he would do anything he could to get his daughter back. The same thing applied now: he would do anything to avoid losing another daughter.
He walked back to the door. Unlocked it and pushed it open. He turned and looked at Ralph, slumped on the floor. Blood on his face and trickling down his arms, his hair plastered to his forehead, eyes staring blankly.
Sebastian’s mobile pinged.
The third picture.
He switched off the lights and left the room.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
When they got back from Märsta, Torkel had sent cars out to the other three crime scenes from the nineties. Just to be on the safe side. Whatever happened, nobody would be able to say he hadn’t done all he could – least of all himself. So he had also sent cars out to Bromma, Nynäshamn, Tumba and Liljeholmen, where the four most recent murders had taken place. He didn’t really think Hinde would go there; they belonged to Ralph. However, Torkel would have sent patrol cars all around the world if he thought it might save Vanja. A female police officer kidnapped by an escaped serial killer suffering from a sexual neurotic disorder. Nobody expected him to treat this like a normal disappearance, and he was making no attempt to do so. He called in the resources he thought he needed, and in addition a number of off-duty colleagues had come in voluntarily to ask if there was anything they could do. The effort was immense, but so far it had led nowhere. All the cars he had sent out had now reported back.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Torkel wondered what to do next. The best and closest thing they had was still Ralph. It didn’t matter what he wanted; he was going to speak to Torkel. If he knew anything, Torkel was going to get it out of him. He left the office and went over to the custody suite. Ralph’s cell was empty. He went to find one of the guards.
‘Where’s Ralph Svensson?’
‘Your colleague came and collected him about an hour ago.’
Torkel didn’t even need to ask which colleague. He hadn’t seen Sebastian since they got back from Märsta. He had leapt out of the car and disappeared the minute they arrived. About an hour ago. Torkel grabbed his mobile. Sebastian answered immediately.
‘Yes?’
‘Where the fuck is Ralph?’
‘Calm down. He’s in a safe room in the culvert. It might be an idea to go down there and switch on the lights for him.’
Torkel let out a long breath. He had been willing to go a long way to extract any information Ralph might have, but he knew that Sebastian was prepared to go further. Too far, probably. For a moment Torkel had pictured Sebastian removing a suspected serial killer from the building.
‘Where are you?’ he asked.
The brief silence that followed told him straight away that he wasn’t going to like the answer.
‘I can’t tell you that right now.’
That could mean only one thing. He was about to go too fucking far, and then some.
‘You know where Edward is,’ Torkel stated flatly.
‘Yes.’
‘Give me an address. Stay where you are and wait for us.’
‘No.’
‘Sebastian, for fuck’s sake! Do as I say!’
‘Not this time.’
Not this time, Torkel thought. As if he had ever done what Torkel said. What anyone said. Taking orders wasn’t one of Sebastian Bergman’s strong points.
‘You can’t go there alone.’ Torkel made one last attempt to reason with him. Find the right buttons to press. Get through to him. ‘You might be suicidal, but think about Vanja.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m doing.’
Sebastian paused. Torkel didn’t know what to do. Beg, plead, lose his temper? They would all be equally ineffective.
‘I’m sorry, Torkel, but this is about Hinde and me now.’
Sebastian ended the call. The car headlights illuminated the sign for Åkers Styckebruk with an arrow pointing to the right. Sebastian indicated and turned off.
Whatever happened, it would soon be over.
Torkel had to restrain himself from hurling the phone to the floor. Fucking idiot. Sebastian, of course, but it applied to him too. He should have kicked him out. Shouldn’t have brought him in. Not again. No way. Would he never learn?
Before he left he told the custody officer where to find Ralph Svensson. He told them to go and get him and put him in an interview room. He would be there in five minutes. First of all he was going to mobilise everyone available, with the aim of finding Sebastian. He must have taken a car; with a bit of luck they might be able to track him using the GPS. If not, they would find out whose car he had borrowed and put out a call right across the area, giving the make, model and registration number. The custody officer called back just as Torkel walked into his office. They had found Ralph Svensson, but he was in no condition to be questioned. He was virtually catatonic. No response when he was touched or spoken to. He had been hurt, or had hurt himself. Injuries to his face and head. Broken wrist. He was on his way to the hospital.
Torkel swore to himself. What the fuck had Sebastian done? Assaulted a suspect. He wasn’t going to get away with this. Torkel would personally make sure he didn’t.
‘Torkel.’ He heard Billy’s voice from the doorway, and spun around.
‘Now what?’
‘I’ve found something. On Ralph’s computer.’
Billy had been working flat out since he got back from the house in Midsommarkransen, partly because he really wanted to make a contribution, and partly because it helped him to push aside the thought of what would have happened if he had gone for a run with Vanja. Said yes. Been the friend he ought to be. Torkel had taken him aside and pointed out that if he had been with her in Lill-Jansskogen he probably wouldn’t have survived – either that, or they would have had two kidnapped police officers to worry about. Billy had nodded, absolutely, that sounded more than likely, but it was also possible that he and Vanja would both be sitting here now if he hadn’t turned her down. That they would have taken Hinde. He knew it was wrong to think like that, it was counter-productive, but he felt guilty. He simply had to do everything he possibly could to try to find Vanja before it was too late. Everyone working on the case knew that she was going to die, but nobody put it into words. The only question was how much time they had. In the worst-case scenario it was already too late, and those were the thoughts he had to suppress with work. They were utterly debilitating. So he had buried himself in the damaged hard drive from Ralph’s computer, and his efforts had produced results.
Torkel went over to Billy’s desk and bent down to look at the monitor.
‘They’ve been communicating via this fygorh.se home page through a chat programme. I’ve managed to retrieve parts of their conversation.’
‘Get to the point.’ Torkel was impatient. He didn’t care how Billy had got there, he just wanted to know what he had found.
Billy pointed at the screen. ‘Here … Ralph is talking about a sports lodge out in the forest where he and his grandfather used to go. It’s pretty incoherent, with a lot of stuff about people who look like animals and …’
‘Okay, okay. And is that where they are?’ Torkel demanded.
‘No, but there’s a reply from Edward, quite a long response about the importance of not forgetting. He talks about an uncle he and his mother used to stay with over the summer when he was a little boy. Apparently this uncle never touched Hinde, but his mother came off pretty badly. He links that to his own experiences, the fact that she was damaged. Look.’ Billy pointed to a line lower down on the screen.
‘I think that was where it all started.’
‘Do we know where it is?’
‘I ran a check on Hinde’s mother and found her brother. He used to live in Åkers Styckebruk. He’s dead now.’
‘Have you got an address?’
‘Of course.’
A post-it note with the address written on it would have done, Torkel thought, but he knew what Billy was tryin
g to do. Compensate for the guilt he was feeling. Show that he had worked hard. Done all he could. Torkel completely understood how he felt. He patted his young colleague on the shoulder.
‘Well done.’
Torkel had the special operations unit on the phone before he left the office.
At first she hadn’t grasped what he was doing as he stood there with the mobile in his hand. It had happened so fast. But as he lowered the phone, smiled at her and told her to put on the nightdress, she realised he had used the camera. She should have known. She had missed it because it was a mobile and not a normal camera. She stared at him, her expression furious. He was going to have to put the nightdress on her himself. There was nothing he could do to make her put it on voluntarily. She knew the series of pictures of the victim were a part of his fantasy, and those she had seen in Ralph’s apartment all began in exactly the same way. The woman naked and exposed, just as she was. The next would be a photograph of her wearing the nightdress.
It was going to take him a while to get that picture. She would make sure of it.
She shook her head and turned away from him. He forced her down on the bed, threatening her with both the knife and the Taser. She tried to fight back just enough, prolonging the struggle without making him feel he had to use one of the weapons. It was a difficult balancing act; she had to writhe and resist as much as possible, while still giving him the impression that he was on the way to achieving his goal, that he would be the victor in the end, so that he didn’t decide to knock her out.
Anything to gain time.
Then she suddenly felt it. Something hard and sharp sticking up by the mattress on the right-hand side of the bed. It scratched her hand. He had started to push the nightdress over her face, and she had hurled herself as far to the right as possible, trying to get away from him. She tried to look at the sharp object, wanting to know what it was, but it was impossible from where she was lying; the angle was wrong, and the nightdress was almost covering her eyes. She tried to feel it with her hand instead. She couldn’t find it; she could no longer reach the edge of the bed with her right hand. She decided to start struggling again, this time with the aim of getting her hand closer to the sharp object. She began with a silent roar, tensing her body so that it became as rigid as a plank of wood. It seemed to throw him off balance for a moment. She threw herself to the right so that her hand could reach further over; her fingers fumbled over the edge of the mattress, feverishly searching for the sharp object. She hoped it would be loose. Hinde was pushing her down again, trying to gain control. She let him have it, but held on tightly to the edge of the bed with her right hand. It worked. She allowed him to start putting on the nightdress as her fingers continued their quest. She heard the nightdress tear as he pulled it over her head, and she fought back with her left arm. Suddenly she found what she was searching for. It was something metallic, sharp and hard. She lost her grip on it in the struggle, but now she knew roughly where it was, and she soon managed to get hold of it again. It felt like a broken spring, and it was loose. She tugged at it with her thumb and index finger, but it wouldn’t come out. So she changed tactics and started to bend it backwards and forwards in order to weaken it at the base. Backwards and forwards. As quickly as she could.
The Man Who Watched Women Page 50