He parked in the disabled spot right outside his building entrance. The darkness had long since settled in. He took the computer from the passenger seat, locked the car and hurried through the snow that was now pouring down.
Once he was inside, he pulled off his snow-covered boots and went into the living room. He set the computer down on the table beside Niva’s various computer screens, which were all displaying the same message: ‘Work in Progress’.
Niva was nowhere to be found. He called her name without getting a response, and took out his phone to call her.
‘Hi.’
‘Where are you?’
‘At your place. Here, I’ll give you a little clue.’ He heard the sound of splashing water.
Fabian walked over to the bathroom to find Niva in the bath, cell phone in hand.
‘That was quick.’ She set down the phone and started clapping her hands.
They were in the middle of one of the toughest investigations they’d ever been involved in and here she was relaxing in his bathtub. The only things missing were candles and champagne.
‘Niva, what the hell are you doing?’
‘There is a limit to how long you can sit in front of a computer without washing. Let’s just say that this is long overdue, something that also applies to your highness, not to mention Huey and Dewey. Besides, I can’t do anything until the machines out there are finished with their current task.’
‘Has the text on the gravestone been translated yet?’
‘It’s on the table.’
Fabian turned back to the living room where he found some handwritten sentences in an open notebook.
Never again will I love another
Never again will my heart beat for any other
You and no other
As long as I love, and on into eternity
Soon you’ll be whole again, and I will be too
Then we’ll meet again
My promise to you
He read through the text twice, as if he couldn’t get enough of the words and everything they meant.
‘It really is beautiful.’
Fabian nodded and looked up. Niva was walking towards him in a white bathrobe.
‘I couldn’t find anything else, so I hope it’s okay that I borrowed this.’
It was far from okay. She was wearing Sonja’s bathrobe, which was anything but shared property. But he didn’t have the energy to put up a fight and reinstate the boundaries. Besides, he still needed her help.
‘Do you think all this is for his sake?’ Niva continued, standing beside him.
‘Yes.’
‘Imagine being so in love with someone that you’re prepared to go that far.’
Fabian nodded without saying anything.
‘How far would you go for Sonja?’
Fabian understood exactly where she was heading. But this time he didn’t intend to go along with her. ‘As far as the law allows.’
‘That doesn’t sound especially romantic. Just think how much more I could do.’
‘You?’ Fabian met her eyes.
‘Yes. How many laws have I broken?’
Fabian thought about how to respond, but his phone broke the silence. ‘This is Fabian—’
‘She’s gone! They’ve taken her!’ a voice screamed on the other end.
‘Sorry, but who am I—’
‘They’ve taken her and no one seems to know where she is!’
‘Who’s gone and who am I speaking with?’
‘Anders Rehnberg! Who the hell do you think? They’ve taken Malin!’
96
WAS IT DOD WHO’D turned His back on her, even though He’d stood beside her the whole way? Was this His punishment? For the first time in a long while she felt uncertain about whether He was really with her. Or was it just a series of unfortunate events influenced by chance that had tripped her up? It couldn’t be anything else. Not now, when she was so close to her goal.
She’d arrived almost an hour and a half too late. Not five minutes or a quarter of an hour, but eighty-eight whole minutes. When she was young she was late more often than not. But this was the first time it had happened since she’d set foot in Sweden. For twelve-and-a-half years she had been on time and today was not a good day to be late.
If it hadn’t been for the hidden camera they’d unknowingly brought along with them in the rest of the investigation material, Fabian Risk would have almost certainly found enough in her apartment to arrest her before she was finished. She didn’t quite understand how the woman who was no longer actually a police officer had managed to pull it off. It had something to do with her cell phone, that much she understood. But how it could have led them to her apartment was still a mystery. Several years ago, she’d travelled to Umeå to buy the anonymous prepaid number and had even had the cell phone turned off for the past few days.
To avoid catastrophe, she’d returned to the apartment in haste, and only taken the most important things with her in the stroller. She’d made it out of the apartment at the last minute before he arrived. He would find quite a bit, especially in the computer, but that didn’t matter now. They wouldn’t get there in time anyway.
The important thing was that under no circumstances could the finale be upended. Then everything she’d built up would collapse, and she wouldn’t have a chance to carry out the most important part of her plan, the whole point of what she’d worked for over the past decade.
As if that wasn’t enough, the pregnant policewoman managed to get hold of the cleaning company’s personnel list and then clearly recognized her, which was not surprising given how long she’d been keeping her under observation. She also couldn’t understand how the list had ended up in her hands in the first place, but she hadn’t had time to figure it out. She’d been forced to improvise and take care of the situation in front of her, certain that somehow there must still be a point to it all, even if she couldn’t see it right now. Despite everything, God must still be with her.
She’d promised herself that no innocent persons would be affected and that only those who deserved it would face her wrath. But she’d already been forced to make an exception in Denmark. The situation had slipped out of her hands and she’d had no alternative. The man had decided not to stay overnight at the apartment in Copenhagen and had come home several hours earlier than expected. Although in many ways, he’d been an accomplice, so she didn’t have a guilty conscience.
On the other hand, that wasn’t the policewoman’s fault. She was just doing her job – really well at that. Her fate and the fate of her two unborn children was something she had to leave to God.
At last she found a parking spot on Pontonjärgatan. She changed clothes in the back seat, locked up and put the key on the left front tyre, before hurrying around the corner and making her way up Polhemsgatan through the fresh snow. She rang the bell beside the grey steel door and was met by the burly guy with rings in his ears, who told her off for being late. She’d made up a lie about how someone had jumped in front of a subway train, but he wasn’t the least bit interested in listening, so she kept quiet and nodded, promising that it would never happen again.
At least she was being honest.
She hurried to the broom closet and took out her equipment. Many square metres needed to be vacuumed and scrubbed in the few hours she had left. Dried-up crud had to be cleaned up, condoms must be thrown out and bathroom stalls required new rolls of toilet paper.
All before the night’s great event.
She would be forced to work quickly to make it fit her timeline. But stress was also working in her favour. The burly man, for instance, had seemed preoccupied. If the others were only half as stressed as she was, none of them would have time to notice her transformation.
97
FABIAN HAD FELT A nagging worry since he discovered Matilda fiddling with that camera in the doll at the hospital. He’d immediately made sure Malin had got a new room, but it had been too late. The perpetrator had found her
anyway. But how and, above all, why? He had no idea, and could only hope that his worst fears would not be realized.
The ward where she’d been resting was deserted except for the reception desk, where some of the nurses were crowded behind a computer screen, exchanging confused looks.
‘What happened?’ he said, even though it was clear that they were as perplexed as he was.
‘We have no idea,’ the tallest one said. ‘We switched to night shift an hour ago, and we’re still trying to figure it out.’
‘It says here that she was supposedly moved down to delivery, but we’ve checked and they never received her,’ said the one sitting behind the screen.
Fabian hurried to Malin’s room. Anders Rehnberg was sitting in a chair in the middle of it, his face buried in his hands. The room felt unnaturally empty now that the bed was no longer there. He wasn’t crying, but when he looked up at Fabian his red eyes were evidence that it was all that he’d been doing for the past hour.
‘You bastard! I hope you understand that this is your fault – yours and no one else’s.’ His eyes radiated such hatred that Fabian had to struggle against the impulse to turn around and leave.
‘Anders, I understand how you feel, but we still don’t know what happened.’ He pulled out a chair and sat down across from him.
‘Don’t come here and say you understand, because you don’t. You’re even worse than Malin.’
Fabian couldn’t figure out what he was talking about.
‘I’ve talked with your wife, and do you know what she said? Huh?’
Fabian shook his head.
‘That you’re unfaithful every day you go to work, because that’s all you think about. She said that living with you is like living with an empty shell or a shed skin. And clearly it’s not just her and the kids who are in second place – it’s everything. I thought you and Malin were friends.’ He spat out the words as if they were venom.
‘Anders, try to calm down now so we can—’
‘Don’t say that I didn’t warn you. I explicitly asked you to stay away from her. But you couldn’t.’
Fabian leaned over and put a consoling hand on Anders’ shoulder.
‘Don’t touch me.’ Anders brushed it away. ‘She was sick. They said she was overworked, as in she worked too much. All she needed was to rest and recover before the delivery. But you couldn’t leave her in peace.’
‘Anders, let’s not get ahead of ourselves now. We still don’t know any information—’
‘We don’t?’ Anders looked him in the eyes. ‘So what do you think happened? That she just rolled out of here with the bed to buy a candy bar? And then what? That whet her appetite and she just kept rolling on out into the snowstorm?’
Fabian wanted to protest and bring up counter-arguments and evidence that Malin was in no danger at all. Even if they couldn’t see it right now, there was probably a rational explanation for everything. But he couldn’t muster up the strength. Anders was right. Probably more right than even he had imagined.
‘So this is completely your responsibility…’ He broke down. Fabian made an effort to move closer to hug him, but changed his mind.
‘Anders, I promise to do everything I can to find out what happened. This will work out.’
Anders once again locked his eyes on Fabian and shook his head. ‘Everything you can? That’s not enough. It’s far from enough. I want you to promise that it will work out and be fine again. Can you promise that?’
Fabian hesitated, but nodded at last. ‘Okay, Anders, I promise.’
‘Otherwise I’m coming after you. I don’t care about the consequences. If you can’t fix this, I’m going to see that you have to pay for it if it’s the last thing I do.’
98
ONE LIFE STORY AFTER another was pushed in through the shadowy opening of the Black Cat on Kungsholmen. All of them were scantily clad, despite the icy cold. Each had a different story of what brought them here, but the look of terror was always the same, no matter where they came from or what language they were thinking in. It was a fear of what awaited them inside, of which they actually knew nothing, but had heard far too much.
The hands of the guards were everywhere, but mostly they were just pressing and shoving them, like cows being brought in for milking. It couldn’t go quickly enough. The guards’ eyes shone with stress as they kept watch over the otherwise peaceful back street that was desolate because of the storm.
A steep staircase led them right down into a massive pit of darkness. They could hear the steel door being closed and bolted behind them, along with the keys rattling and locks being turned. A row of bare bulbs in the concrete ceiling illuminated a long winding corridor with padlocked compartments on either side filled with worn-out furniture and packed-up memories that no one would ever share. They passed through another steel door followed by several layers of red, heavy curtains.
They were finally inside. It was still dark, but it didn’t feel as impenetrable. Once their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they could see how big the room really was with its painted black walls and ceiling. Small spotlights shone down on red couches spread out in a big circle around an elevated round part of the floor – the stage they’d all heard about.
They were shoved through the space, past a hidden door in the black wall, through a blindingly light corridor with fluorescent fixtures in the ceiling and doors on both sides. They reached a large, tiled bathroom, with toilet stalls, mirrors and bidets. The guards ordered them to take care of their needs one last time and wash all their holes thoroughly.
*
IT HAD BEEN A nearly impossible race against time, but she’d almost finished cleaning everything. In some of the private rooms it hadn’t taken more than a quick vacuum, and in one group room she’d only turned over the pillows and removed the most visible condoms. She had just hung up the overalls in the broom closet and pulled her bag with make-up and other clothes out of her backpack, when she heard the shouts of the guards getting louder.
She’d been forced to leave the broom closet with the clothes in her arms, and hurry ahead of the others through the corridor into the bathroom, where she’d locked herself in the last stall. Her heartbeat had been racing so fast it was impossible to make out the individual beats.
But once she’d put on the dress and shoes, and the bag of make-up was hidden safely in the water tank of the toilet, she’d felt calmer than ever. This was not simply one in the line of sinners who would get their punishment; it was something she’d looked forward to since the day she’d realized who he was. Diego Arcas was one of them, and this could be nothing other than God’s way of showing her that He was with her all the way.
She could hear the washroom outside filling with the new shipment. None of them said anything, but she could clearly make out the smell of fear. She waited a little longer before she left the stall and started imitating the behaviour of the other girls: the worry in their eyes and their hesitant steps and hunched backs.
99
FABIAN RISK OPENED THE door that didn’t lock, stepped into his hallway and took off his coat. The car ride home had been fine even though he was still intoxicated. It was the first time ever he’d driven while under the influence, but right now he was much too tired to really care. He felt like a wrung-out rag and was unsure whether he would make it all the way into the bedroom.
After Fabian had finally convinced Anders that he had his best officers out looking for Malin, Anders had agreed to leave the hospital and let Fabian drive him to the villa in Enskede. Once they arrived, he invited Fabian in for a whisky. Fabian tried to politely decline due to the late hour and the fact that he was driving, but Anders insisted, saying it was the least he could do.
It turned out that Anders was a member of the Swedish Whisky Society, and had an entire room in the basement dedicated to his collection. According to him, it was one of the biggest in the country. As predicted, they hadn’t stopped at one glass and the mood between them became more relaxed
as the alcohol thinned their blood.
He let Anders talk about everything between heaven and earth: the house, which was an endless renovation project, even though it was much too expensive; his job as an elementary school teacher in Skärholmen; and how all his colleagues nagged him to become a principal, even though power had never really interested him because he preferred being closer to the action.
After almost two hours, Fabian set down the half-filled whiskey glass, stood up and said thank you. Sit down, Anders said with a serious tone and look that gave Fabian no other choice but to obey. And with tears running down his face, Anders told him about Malin: he explained how much he loved her and how she was the best thing in his world; he told him that they’d met on a bus – the 54 as it was called at the time – and that Malin hadn’t wanted to get off because it was pouring with rain, and that they’d finally taken the plunge together at Odenplan and shared his umbrella, giggling, before calling in sick from a phone booth.
After that he filled Fabian’s glass, even though it wasn’t empty, and asked whether he still loved Sonja. Strangely enough, he’d been completely unprepared for the question and was about to rattle off the standard response about how much he loved her and how well they complemented each other even though they were so different, but the words got stuck.
Instead, he’d tried to give an honest picture of things: he wanted nothing more than to still be in love, but their relationship had morphed into an increasingly difficult struggle and doubt was starting to make bigger gains. Anders had listened and nodded at his fumbling attempts to corral his emotions. It was almost like they were on their way to becoming friends.
Damn, you really messed things up, Anders said at last, getting another bottle. Either you love someone or you don’t. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. Sure, the flame can be low, but then it’s time to roll up your sleeves and start working on it. If, on the other hand, it’s gone out, it’s over. Then you might as well call the lawyer and look into getting the papers signed.
The Ninth Grave Page 40
