The Disciple (45 page)

‘Mahmoud Kazemi?’ Vanja said, getting to her feet. Billy followed suit.

‘Yes. What’s this about?’

‘Vanja Lithner and Billy Rosén; we’re from Riksmord.’ Both of them showed their ID; Mahmoud glanced at the cards without interest. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions about your shift yesterday.’

The man nodded and the three of them sat down. Vanja pushed a photograph of Roland Johansson across the table to Mahmoud. ‘Do you recognise this man?’

Mahmoud picked up the photograph and looked at it carefully. ‘Maybe . . .’

Vanja felt a stab of impatience. Roland Johansson looked like a member of some Hells Angels chapter, with half his face sliced open. If you’d met him, you’d remember him. How could Kazemi be in any doubt? He might not be sure about the time, but he must know whether or not he’d seen him.

‘He might have got on your bus yesterday,’ Billy said helpfully. ‘Out at Lövsta.’

‘Lövsta . . .’

‘Between Stentorp and Mariedal.’

Mahmoud looked up from the photograph and gazed at Billy with a slightly weary expression. ‘I know where it is. I drive the bus there.’

‘Sorry.’

The room fell silent. Vanja took a sip of her coffee.

Mahmoud Kazemi studied the picture for a little longer, then put it down on the table and nodded firmly. ‘He did get on. I remember, because he smelled.’

‘Smelled of what?’ Vanja wanted to know.

‘Smoke. As if he’d been burning something.’

Vanja nodded encouragingly as she wondered whether certain people had a better memory for smells than for something they’d seen. She couldn’t believe the bus driver hadn’t recognised Roland Johansson as soon as he saw the picture. ‘Do you remember where he got off?’

‘Brunna.’

‘Have you seen him out in Lövsta before?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘No, but I think I would have remembered him. With that big scar.’

Vanja chose not to comment; they had got what they came for.

Vanja and Billy thanked Mahmoud for his help, and gave him their phone number in case he thought of anything else. They left the bus depot and walked back to the car without speaking.

Mahmoud had led them to Brunna. They had a time, they had a place. With a bit of luck these new leads wouldn’t end there. They would go back to the station and carry on.

Another car journey.

The same deafening silence.

Sebastian couldn’t decide which feeling was the strongest.

A full stomach, tiredness, or impotent rage.

After Vanja, Billy and Ursula had left he had spent the better part of an hour wandering around the offices. Drunk far too much coffee. Tried to summon up the energy to do what he had said he was going to do.

Make those calls.

Eventually he hadn’t been able to put it off any longer. He went into the Room. Closed the door. He would be left in peace there; it was only the Riksmord team who used it. The team he was still a part of. Time to prove it. Do something. Do what he could.

He had started by sitting down with a pen and paper and racking his brains. Where should he begin? He couldn’t possibly go back ten or twenty years. He didn’t remember them. That was just the way it was. He didn’t remember their names, what they looked like, where they lived, who they were. The fact that the murderer had gone for Annette Willén didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to be sure that Riksmord had made the connection with Sebastian. It could just as easily be that Hinde, who Sebastian was convinced somehow lay behind all this, was simply unable to find any more women from his past, and had therefore been forced to take someone more recent.

So he focused on that angle himself.

There were still plenty.

And it was still difficult.

After another hour he had six names written on his pad. Six women he had slept with since he got back from Västerås at the end of April. In Stockholm, or at least not too far away. Six whose names he actually remembered. Or five. He had a Christian name and a vague idea of which part of the city one of them lived in, but only the part of the city when it came to a seventh. With the help of the computer he managed to find their phone numbers – something he never asked for when they met. If they wanted to give it to him he would take it, but threw the piece of paper away immediately.

He pulled the pad towards him and took a deep breath. Then he came up with a reason to put off the difficult conversations for a little while longer. Trolle. He still hadn’t got hold of Trolle. He tried his number. No reply. Left his fifth or sixth message. Picked up the pad again and made a start.

It turned out to be an object lesson in futility. One of the women who answered insisted he had the wrong number. They had never met, she said. Two refused to speak to him when he explained who he was. Simply slammed the phone down, didn’t pick up when he rang again. One listened, but when it came to explaining the situation, telling her what had happened, Sebastian’s courage failed him. He couldn’t be the one to tell them their lives were in danger. Not over the telephone. So he ended up issuing a vague warning about being careful. Not letting in any strangers. He must have sounded completely incoherent and slightly crazy. Towards the end the woman had asked what he actually wanted. He had put the phone down and didn’t even attempt to call the last name on the list.

He couldn’t do it over the phone.

He just couldn’t.

But he couldn’t go and see them in person either.

There was nothing he could do.

What contribution had he made? Vanja had asked. The answer was simple and depressing. None. He had to see Hinde again. That was where the solution lay. That was where he would find something he could work with, something he could understand. He had to see Hinde.

He leaned back in the chair, stretched his legs out under the table. Closed his eyes.

He was tired. He hadn’t been able to settle last night after all that business with Anna. He had toyed with the idea of going back and keeping Trolle company, but had decided against it. He had gone to bed and gazed idly at the television until he fell asleep at around half past two.

The dream had woken him before five. His right hand tightly clenched. His nails had pierced the skin in two places, and blood was seeping out. He straightened his fingers and felt the cramp slowly ease. He lay there for a while, wondering whether to invite the dream back in. He did that sometimes. Allowed it to regain a foothold. Enjoyed every second of the unadulterated feeling of love which it encompassed and conveyed, in spite of everything.

Sometimes he needed it.

Needed to feel Sabine. Close by. Her little hand in his. Remember her smell. The way she ran towards the water on her eager little legs. Hear her voice.

‘Daddy, I want one of those too.’ Her last words to him when she saw another little girl playing with an inflatable dolphin.

He needed to feel the weight of her as he carried her. Her soft hands against his sun-warmed, stubbly cheeks. Hear her laughter when he almost stumbled.

Until the noise came.

The roar.

The wave. That would take her away from him. Forever.

The door of the Room opened and Vanja, Billy and Torkel walked in. Sebastian gave a start and almost slid off his chair.

‘Were you asleep?’ Torkel asked without a hint of a smile as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

‘I was trying,’ Sebastian replied, sitting up straight. He looked at the clock. Quarter of an hour had disappeared. He still didn’t feel too good.

‘What have you been doing to wear yourself out?’ Somehow Vanja managed to include the answer ‘nothing, as usual’ in her question, so Sebastian didn’t bother to reply.

‘Where’s Ursula?’ he asked instead. He assumed they were about to have some kind of meeting.

‘Still at the gravel pit, I presume,’ Torkel said. ‘I haven’t heard from her.’

He turned to Billy and Vanja, who were sitting on the other side of the table in silence. They looked at one another, but neither seemed particularly keen to speak.

‘You do it,’ Billy said curtly, leaning back in his chair. It was almost as if he was making a point.

‘Why?’

‘It’s probably for the best.’

Sebastian watched the pair with growing interest. Those two hadn’t just been out working this morning, that much was clear. Something else had happened. In spite of the brief exchange, it was impossible not to notice the chilly atmosphere between them. Interesting.

Vanja shrugged and quickly ran through what had happened since they left the station. The car at the gravel pit, the witness, Roland Johansson, the bus driver, Brunna.

‘We checked Brunna.’ Billy took over without being asked. ‘There’s no Roland Johansson living there, and no one who has their post redirected there.’

‘But a car was reported stolen from there yesterday.’ Vanja again. ‘A silver Toyota Auris. The time fits.’

‘That’s the one!’ Sebastian burst out. Slightly too loud and slightly too enthusiastically, he realised as everyone turned to look at him.

‘How do you know?’ Vanja put into words what all three of them were thinking; Sebastian could see that.

He swore to himself. He knew because Trolle had told him that the person who was following him was driving a silver Japanese car. He knew because Trolle had seen it outside Anna Eriksson’s apartment block. But what he knew and what he could tell them were two completely different things. He couldn’t say anything about Trolle and Anna. Nor was there any way he could reasonably know that the Toyota was linked to their investigation.

The others were still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

‘I don’t know,’ Sebastian said quietly. He cleared his throat. His voice mustn’t let him down if he was going to get out of this one.

‘I don’t
know
, obviously,’ he repeated. ‘It was just . . . a feeling.’

‘A feeling? Since when did you pay any attention to feelings?’

Torkel’s question was justified. He knew Sebastian better than anyone in the Room. He might come up with theories and hypotheses, some of them incorrect as it would later transpire, but they were always based on a solid foundation of facts. Possible, credible. Through all the years Torkel had worked with him, Sebastian had never offered an assumption based on a feeling.

Sebastian shrugged. ‘Roland got off the bus in Brunna, the car was stolen there, Roland is somehow mixed up in all this. Everything fits. It . . . fits.’

Silence. Vanja shook her head. Billy was staring straight in front of him; it almost looked as if he hadn’t been listening. Torkel’s expression made it clear that he thought Sebastian was talking rubbish, and it looked as if Torkel was wondering if there was a reason for this. Sebastian was just about to expand on his explanation when Torkel appeared to lose interest in him, and turned back to Vanja and Billy instead. ‘It’s a coincidence we can’t ignore. Put out a call for the Toyota.’ He nodded to Billy.

‘Already done,’ Billy said with a quick glance at Vanja.

‘Good. I’ve spoken to Roland Johansson’s liaison officer in Gothenburg, Fabian Fridell.’

‘And what did he say?’ Sebastian pretended to be more interested than he actually was. Anything to compensate for his reaction to the silver Toyota.

‘He hasn’t seen Johansson for a few days.’

‘What does that mean?’ Vanja demanded. ‘Two days? A week?’

‘Our friend Fabian was extremely vague on that point.’

‘Someone’s threatened him.’

It wasn’t a question.

‘That’s the feeling I got,’ Torkel said with a nod.

Silence fell once more as everyone around the table allowed this to sink in. Billy was the one who summarised what they were all thinking.

‘So Roland Johansson is involved in some way, but forensic evidence from the crime scenes rules him out as the perpetrator, and he has an alibi for the second and third murders.’

‘Then again, his alibi is Fridell,’ Vanja chipped in. ‘If Fridell has been threatened, that could be a lie.’

Billy shook his head. ‘I’ve checked with some of the others who were on the trip to Skåne. Roland Johansson was definitely there.’

‘So we’re looking for more than one person,’ Torkel established.

‘But Hinde is directing the whole thing,’ Sebastian said, keen to make sure they didn’t lose focus in the light of this new information. ‘I know it.’

‘You know it?’ Vanja said with an infuriating smile. ‘Or is it just . . . a feeling?’

‘Shut up. You know it too. Everyone in this room knows it.’ Sebastian got to his feet and started pacing. ‘I’ve never met Roland Johansson. There’s no reason for him to want to get revenge on me. But he’s linked to Hinde. Everything is linked to Hinde.’ He stopped and turned to Torkel. ‘What’s happening with my request for a visit?’

‘The last time it took two days.’

‘Have you told them it’s urgent? That it’s important?’

‘What do you think?’ Torkel spoke to Billy and Vanja: ‘Where do we go from here?’

‘I’ve sent uniformed officers to speak to the recipients of those calls from Lövhaga,’ Vanja replied. ‘We should hear something soon.’

‘I noticed the list of all the staff on the secure unit has arrived,’ Billy said. ‘I’ll make a start on that right away.’