Then she was alone with the doctor again, who was whistling a tune that echoed between the hard walls. It was the only sound she could hear other than her own breath, which was starting to remind her of the asthma she had had as a child. Then, she had felt completely helpless when she had to stop playing to gasp for air. Now, she felt both helpless and small, and all she wanted to do was collapse and cry. But she couldn’t even do that.
The fluorescent lights on the dark concrete ceiling ended and she saw first her legs and then her upper body being lifted on to a stretcher. You’ll soon understand, the doctor had said. How could she understand? All she could think about was the story she’d read recently about a plastic surgeon in Malmö who had injected something into his patients so they couldn’t resist when he raped them. But why would anyone want to rape her?
She was pushed backwards into an ambulance and tried to focus on the sounds. She heard the driver’s side door close and the engine start. They started moving and turned west on Ringvägen and then continued along Hornsgatan towards Hornstull, where she got confused when they went through a roundabout. After that, she lost all sense of direction.
About twenty minutes later, they finally stopped. She had no idea where they were, but she heard a garage door open. The ambulance went in about thirty metres before the engine was turned off.
The ambulance doors opened, and she was pulled out and pushed away on the stretcher. New fluorescent lights chased each other in the ceiling. The pace quickened, and the doctor’s steps echoed against the hard floor until they abruptly stopped. She heard keys and a beeping sound, and then an electric motor starting.
She was rolled into a dark room and it sounded as if something was closing behind her. A strong lamp in the ceiling was turned on and was shining right down on to a rectangular table. She couldn’t see any windows or figure out the size of the room. She could only make out the lamp and the table with a number of devices around it. She was pushed forward and could now see that the table was covered with plastic and had a number of straps and an inch-wide hole right below the midpoint. There was another, smaller, metal table alongside the rectangular one that had various surgical instruments lined up on a white towel.
Once she saw the scissors, tongs and scalpels, she understood exactly why she’d been taken away – and what was coming.
1
FABIAN RISK READ THE message over again before he looked up from his cell phone and met the teacher’s puzzled gaze. ‘I’m sorry, but unfortunately it looks like we’ll have to start without her.’
‘Really? I suppose if we have to,’ said the teacher, very clearly demonstrating her displeasure.
‘What do you mean, Mum’s not coming?’ Matilda looked as if she would rather jump off the West Bridge than undergo a parent–teacher conversation without Sonja. And Fabian could understand the feeling, given that he had missed the last few meetings for various reasons. Although Matilda was now in third grade, he couldn’t even remember her teacher’s name.
‘Matilda, unfortunately Mum has to work. You know how busy she gets when an exhibition is coming up.’
‘She said she would be here.’
‘I know, and I can promise that she’s just as disappointed as you, but I’m sure this will go just fine anyway.’ He patted her on the head, and sought support from the teacher, who responded with a neutral smile.
‘Stop it.’ Matilda pushed away his hand, adjusting the pink hair clips that held her dark, shoulder-length hair in place.
‘As far as Matilda’s motivation for learning and ability to follow the lessons are concerned, the entire teaching staff only have positive feedback.’ The teacher flipped through her papers. ‘In both Swedish and maths she’s one of the best in—’ She fell silent and looked at Fabian’s cell phone, which had started to vibrate on the table.
‘Sorry.’ Fabian turned over the phone and saw, much to his surprise, that it was Herman Edelman. He had been Fabian’s boss since he’d started at the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation in Stockholm. Even at age sixty, Edelman was a force to be reckoned with and as hungry for the truth as he’d ever been. Fabian could honestly say that he wouldn’t have amounted to much of an investigator without Edelman.
But Edelman hadn’t been seen at the department since lunch. By afternoon coffee neither Fabian nor any of the others on the team had heard from him and they’d started to wonder if something had happened.
But now he was calling. And after office hours no less, which could only mean one thing: something had definitely happened. Something that couldn’t wait.
Fabian was about to answer, when the teacher cleared her throat. ‘We don’t have all evening. You’re not the only parents I have to see.’
‘Sorry, where were we?’ Fabian declined the call and set the phone aside.
‘Matilda. Your daughter.’ The teacher forced a smile. ‘As I was saying, the whole teaching staff only have positive things to say about Matilda. But,’ she looked Fabian in the eye, ‘if it’s all right, I would really like to talk with you privately.’
‘Yes? Okay. I’m sure that’s fine. Isn’t it, Matilda?’
‘What are you going to talk about?’
‘I’m sure it’s just some grown-up things.’ Fabian turned to the teacher, who nodded with a smile. ‘Matilda, can you wait out in the hall? We’ll be coming soon.’
Matilda sighed and dragged her feet sulkily on her way out of the classroom. Fabian watched her, but couldn’t stop wondering what Edelman wanted from him.
‘So, it’s like this.’ The teacher placed her folded hands on the table. ‘I’ve heard from various people that there are serious signs that Matilda—’ Once again she was interrupted by Fabian’s vibrating cell phone. Her irritation was impossible to overlook.
‘You have to excuse me, but I don’t know what’s going on.’ He picked up the phone and turned it over. This time it was his colleague Malin Rehnberg, who was in Copenhagen at a seminar. Edelman must have called her after him. ‘Sorry, but I have no choice but to—’
‘Then I think we’ll stop here,’ the teacher said, starting to gather up her papers.
‘But wait. Can’t we just—’
‘At this school we have a zero tolerance policy for cell phones during class. I see no reason to make exceptions for grown-ups.’ She continued to gather up her papers and put them in her briefcase. ‘Take your important call. That way I can see parents who are actually interested in their children. Have a nice rest of your evening.’ She stood up.
‘Wait, this turned out completely wrong,’ said Fabian, just as the cell phone pinged a voicemail notification. Please tell me you left a message explaining what happened, Fabian thought. ‘Sorry. Of course I’m here for Matilda and nothing else.’
The teacher gave him a contemptuous look. ‘Fine. We’ll give this one last try.’ She opened the briefcase again and took out Matilda’s folder. ‘This is not something we normally get involved in, but we feel it’s really important in your daughter’s case. We’re concerned that if you don’t take action, there might be a risk to her studies.’
‘Sorry, but I don’t think I understand. Do what?’
The teacher set a drawing out on the table. ‘Here is one of her latest works. And, well, see for yourself.’
Fabian recognized himself in the picture. He still had the goatee he’d shaved off a few weeks ago. Sonja stood right across from him with a kitchen knife in her hand. Their faces were bright red and they were screaming with their mouths open. He remembered how he’d questioned whether it really was necessary that she worked so much in the evenings. Sonja had flared up and countered with all his late work nights over the past few years and blamed him for only looking after his own needs.
They had agreed to never, ever fight in front of the children. But in the heat of the moment he had even threatened divorce.
‘I don’t know what to say. This, this is—’
‘And here’s another,’ the teacher interrupted.
This time the image depicted Matilda’s bedroom. He recognized the wallpaper by her bed and the stuffed animals lined up in rows across the pillows at the lower edge of the picture, just as they were in reality. A small part of Fabian could not help being impressed by how skilful she was at drawing, while the rest of him struggled to take in what was written in the text bubbles that illustrated the fight on the other side of the wall. This time it concerned sex, and from what he could see, some of the lines were painfully close to the truth.
He wanted to sink down through the chair and get out of there.
‘Of course, I understand that there are quite a few fantasies and exaggerations, but this theme recurs in everything Matilda is doing right now, and I thought it might be good for you to know about it. As a parent, I would want to know.’
‘Of course,’ said Fabian, trying to conceal the cell phone that was once again vibrating in his hand.
*
ON HIS WAY OUT of the Björngård School, Fabian called Edelman, but got a busy signal. ‘Look, Matilda, now there’s even more snow.’ He gazed out over the schoolyard, which was covered by a thick layer of fresh snow. ‘You can all make snowmen tomorrow.’
‘By then it will probably only be slush,’ Matilda said, starting to go down the steps.
‘Matilda, wait.’ Fabian hurried to catch up. ‘You’re not worried that your mum and I are going to separate, are you?’
‘So that’s what you were talking about.’
‘Well? Are you?’
Without answering Matilda ran towards the car, which was parked on the other side of the street.
Fabian held up the car key to unlock it so that she could jump in and sit down. He really wanted to hurry over and keep her company, but he wasn’t sure what he should say. She was right, after all. If they continued like this, it was only a matter of time before their marriage would be over. He, who had not only promised Sonja, but most of all himself, never ever to follow in his parents’ footsteps – no matter what. However tough it might be for them, he had thought nothing would ever make them give up on their marriage.
Now he wasn’t so sure. Even though the air had gone out of the tyres, so to speak, he’d continued to drive around on the rims for so long now it was doubtful they could be repaired. He sighed and stopped in the middle of the schoolyard to call Malin Rehnberg.
‘Fabian, where have you been? The only thing that will save you now is the fact that I’m over six hundred kilometres away. Do you realize that Herman has been on me like a flipping leech simply because you can’t be bothered to pick up the phone? He’s treating me like I’m his secretary or something. Yes, I know that no one cares, but I happen to be in Copenhagen at a seminar that is actually rather interesting.’
‘Okay, but do you know what—’
‘But the beds here are shit, and besides I feel like a swelled-up sweaty pig.’
‘I understand, but—’
‘And I don’t care that I have two months left – I’m on the verge of doing something illegal if these kids don’t pop out soon! Hello? Fabian? Are you still there?’
‘Did he say anything about what this is about?’
‘He didn’t tell me. Evidently it was extremely important, but I think I have an idea.’
‘Okay.’
‘Try answering next time he calls.’
He heard a click, and Fabian was left nodding in agreement. He also hoped that her pregnancy would soon be over. Fifteen seconds later Malin sent a text apologizing for her harsh tone and promised that she would be her usual self again as soon as the ‘pregnancy from hell’ was over.
Fabian got in behind the steering wheel and looked at Matilda in the back seat. ‘What do you say about stopping by Ciao Ciao and getting pizza?’
Matilda shrugged, but he could see how she lit up a bit, even if she was doing everything to hide it. He started the car and turned on to Maria Prästgårdsgatan, while he made another attempt to get hold of Edelman.
‘Hi, Herman, I see that you called.’
‘I assume I should be thanking Malin.’
‘I was in the middle of a parent–teacher meeting, and I’ve only now—’
‘Yes, yes, that’s fine. The reason I’m calling is that I’ve been summoned to SePo for eight o’clock this evening, and I want you to come with me.’
‘This evening? Sorry, but I’m alone with the kids. Why is it so important that I—’
‘Who’s in charge here? You or me?’
‘That’s not what I—’
‘Listen up: Persson and Päivinen have just found a new lead in the Adam Fischer case and Höglund and Carlén have their hands full with the Diego Arcas mapping. The only people who don’t have anything on their desks right now are you and Rehnberg. And as far as I can tell she’s in Copenhagen.’
‘Okay, but can you tell me what’s happened?’
‘I assume that’s what we’re going to be informed about. See you outside SePo at five to. Bye now.’
Fabian took the headset out of his ears and turned on to Nytorgsgatan. He didn’t know much about the Adam Fischer case beyond that he was a famous playboy who had recently gone missing. His two colleagues were treating it as kidnap but in Risk’s view he could have simply gone on an eight-day bender and not yet come home. Diego Arcas was a name he was more familiar with – a ruthless pimp who ran several brothels in Stockholm. They had been trying to arrest him for years for trafficking or drug-dealing, but he was always too slippery. Risk hoped that Höglund and Carlén would get the evidence they so desperately needed – though privately he doubted it. Arcas was too smart to get caught. He pulled his thoughts back to the road, and the meeting ahead of him. It was far from the first time his paths had crossed with the Swedish secret service, but he had never been invited to a meeting after office hours, which was probably because he was too far down the food chain. Herman Edelman, on the other hand, was there all the time, and wasted no opportunity to underscore how crucial it was to always sit with your back against the wall if you wanted to survive a meeting with them.
And now he wanted Fabian to come along.
*
‘NO, IT’S NOT POSSIBLE, Fabian. I’m sorry. You’ll have to work it out some other way.’
‘What do you mean “work it out some other way”?’ Fabian said, looking out over the snow-covered roof ridges. He could hear Sonja taking yet another cancer-inducing puff and then a sigh of smoke. It was a sign that she was in a really bad mood.
‘I don’t know. You’ll have to improvise. I don’t have time to talk more now.’
‘But, wait a minute…’ Fabian could see Matilda’s reflection in the window, listening to them. He took the remote control, turned on the TV and raised the volume.
Eight days after playboy Adam Fischer disappeared without a trace, police have announced that they are treating the case as a kidnapping.
‘Sonja, this isn’t my decision. It’s not like I have a choice.’
‘And you think that I do?’
We have criminology professor Gerhard Ringe with us in the studio…
‘Should I just drop my brushes and tell Ewa that there won’t be an exhibition?’
‘No. But—’
‘Okay, then.’
‘Please, calm down now.’
What caused police to release this information? And why haven’t we heard about a ransom?
‘I am calm,’ said Sonja, doing nothing to conceal the fact that she was taking another puff. ‘I just don’t understand why it should be such a problem that for once, I’m the one who has to work.’
‘Okay, I’ll try to arrange something. Do you have any idea when you’ll be home?’
‘Yes. When I’m done. And please, don’t ask me what time, because I have no idea. All I know is that I hate these paintings more and more with every second that passes,’ she said with a new puff and a new sigh. ‘Sorry. I’m just so sick and tired of these and want nothing more than to puke on all of them.’
&nb
sp; ‘Darling, it will work out. You feel like this before each exhibition, then suddenly you have an epiphany and everything comes together.’
‘We’ll see about that.’
‘I’ll figure it out, so don’t worry about it.’
‘Okay.’
‘Love you.’
‘Talk to you later.’
Fabian sat down with Matilda in the kitchen and took out his pizza. ‘How was the banana pizza?’
‘Okay. But I want to ask you something.’
‘Yes?’
‘Did Mom say that she loves you too?’
Fabian met her gaze and wondered how he should answer. ‘No, actually, she didn’t.’
‘Maybe it’s just because she’s so stressed.’
Fabian nodded and took a big bite of pizza, which had long since gone cold.
2
THIS WASN’T THE FIRST time Fabian had been to SePo, but he’d never gone through so many security checks and been so far into the building. He had lost his sense of direction completely. Only after numerous elevators and windowless corridors were he and Herman Edelman shown into a large room with faint illumination. As far as Fabian could remember, this was the first time Edelman had had nothing to say.
Just before he had to leave, Theodor had come home from floorball and agreed to take care of Matilda after a quick negotiation. Even though it was an ordinary Wednesday evening, Fabian agreed they could have crisps and soda and watch videos in their bedrooms. His only counter-demand was that they didn’t tell Sonja, and that Matilda didn’t make a drawing of it in school.
‘You must be Herman Edelman and Fabian Risk.’ A woman emerged from the darkness and shook hands with them. ‘Welcome. Anders Furhage and the others are already waiting.’
The woman led them further down the hall. Once Fabian’s eyes got used to the dimness he noticed a number of dark cubes that appeared to be freely floating a metre or so above the ground. He had heard about the eavesdropping-proof rooms, which, according to rumour, had broken SePo’s budget by tens of millions, but this was the first time he’d actually seen them. Edelman, though, didn’t bat an eye. Instead, he wiped off his small round glasses with a handkerchief and kept going. Fabian hadn’t seen him so serious and grim since his wife died of cancer almost ten years before.
The Ninth Grave Page 2
