The Disciple (47 page)

A little bit of time to herself. In the moment.

Before her life continued.

Ralph got off the subway at Odenplan. He wasn’t sure if that was actually the closest station for Västmannagatan, because he travelled on the green line too infrequently to be certain, but that was how it had looked on the map. There weren’t many other travellers on the platform, and he quickly emerged from the depths. Crossed the main road and headed west. Västmannagatan ought to be a few blocks away. He had never been there on foot before. As he walked along he thought about how to proceed. He took out his mobile and called Ellinor’s number. She answered on the third ring.

‘Ellinor Bergkvist.’

Ralph ended the call immediately. She was at home. He knew she lived alone in her apartment, and he had managed to get hold of the entry code for the outside door of the block the day after Sebastian’s first visit, when he had helped an elderly lady inside, so at least the first hurdle was taken care of. But after that he would have to improvise. As in the case of Anna Eriksson the planning was inadequate, which bothered him. But the alternative was to keep her under surveillance for weeks, or at least days, and he knew the time was no longer available. They had moved into a new phase. Everything must happen faster. Decisions as well as actions. He ought to be able to cope. He would cope. He was experienced now. On the verge of making history. He was the inoffensive delivery man from the flower shop, bringing a gift. What woman wouldn’t open the door to him?

‘Forgive me. Love, Sebastian.’

He smiled as he thought about his plan.

He reached the front door and his final destination, but walked past without stopping. He went up to the little park and sat down on one of the dark green benches for a while. Looked around. Nobody in the vicinity as far as he could tell. Nobody paying any attention either to him or to the front door. A rubbish truck drove slowly past, but disappeared around the corner. Ralph got up, holding the bouquet so that it covered most of his face.

Walked back slowly. Not too fast. He mustn’t appear stressed. Mustn’t be noticed.

He must be nothing more than a bunch of roses.

A gift of love on the way to a woman.

The code was 1439. He double-checked on his mobile, where he had made a note of it to be on the safe side.

1439. Correct.

The door swung open by itself. It had an automatic mechanism to make life easier for the elderly and those with pushchairs. He didn’t like it. It made his entrance too grand, too theatrical, as if he were walking onto a stage. He moved quickly into the large foyer and stood there for a while, pretending to search for a name on the list of residents even though he knew exactly where she lived. Fourth floor. Three neighbours. The automatic door closed behind him, and the silence inside the building was a relief as the sound of the traffic died away. He felt as if he was invisible, standing there in the pretty white foyer with its ornate Greek-inspired statues in the neoclassical style. The roses fitted in.

Red and white.

The colours of love and innocence.

It was poetic for death to arrive in this way.

He decided to go up in the lift. Once he had reached the fourth floor he would leave the inner gate open so that the lift couldn’t move, and anyone who needed to move around the building would have to use the stairs. That would enable him to hear if anyone was on their way up or down, and give him time to act. It could all come down to seconds in the end.

The lift wasn’t there, so he pressed the worn black button above the word call. The machinery jerked into life with a mechanical thud. He peered up the shaft through the black gate and saw that the lift was on the fourth or fifth floor. It began to descend with irritating slowness.

The critical moment would be from the time she opened the door until he was inside the apartment with the door closed and the woman under control. It must be accomplished in just a few seconds, and as quietly as possible. The acoustics in the stairwell would amplify every sound. He took out the Leatherman knife. Flicked it open and concealed it in his right hand behind the roses.

Ellinor walked around the apartment one last time. Decided to leave the balcony door open a fraction so that it wouldn’t smell stuffy when fru Lindell turned up. She would be there this evening, if Ellinor knew her as well as she thought she did. She flicked the catch so that the balcony door was still locked, but with a tiny gap. Then she was happy. The apartment was in perfect order.

She opened the front door and stepped out with her keys in her hand. Locked up behind her. Saw the lift pass her floor on its way down. Typical. If she had come out a minute earlier she could have stopped it. Now she would have to wait. She wheeled her little black cabin case, which she had bought with a staff discount, over to the lift. She was pleased with the case. It was both practical and fashionable. The lift continued its slow descent. They had discussed having it renovated at the last residents’ meeting, but had shelved the issue. Its old-fashioned open style was charming, with its lattice gate and dark wood, but from a practical point of view it left a great deal to be desired. Ellinor and some of the others had suggested a faster, more modern model. One where you just pressed the button and waited. With this one you had to wait until it stopped before you pressed.

Ralph stiffened as he heard a door open above him. He wasn’t sure which floor the sound had come from. He was able to rule out the first floor immediately, it was higher up than that, but because of the acoustics it was impossible to be any more accurate. He listened hard, but the hum of the lift was the only thing he could hear. He waited for the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but none came. So the person in question was presumably waiting for the lift. Just like him. Now he had to keep his cool. He raised the bouquet slightly so that he was just a body whose face was concealed by roses, and tightened his grip on the knife. At long last the lift arrived; it stopped with a small dull thud followed by a sharper metallic click from the locking mechanism. He opened the door as quietly as he could, but he didn’t really know what to do. There were two options: abort or go on up.

He decided on the latter. He could always abort at a later stage. First of all he would force the person up there to act. He held the door open so that the lift couldn’t go anywhere. The building was silent. You could have heard a pin drop.

A minute or so passed. Ralph had time to think through the alternatives many times. Too many. Perhaps the best thing would be to abort his mission after all. Come back in a while, start all over again. He was just about to let go of the lift door and leave when he heard the person upstairs start walking down. The footsteps were rapid, and sounded as if they were fast approaching. The decision was instantaneous. There was no going back. He stepped into the lift.

Ellinor was annoyed. This was just typical. She didn’t actually have anything against using the stairs – exercise was good – but the problem was the suitcase. It was a bit too heavy to carry all the way. And then there was that article she’d read, which had stated very clearly that walking down the stairs wasn’t good for you. Bad for the knees, apparently. Walking up was beneficial, but you should avoid walking down. But now she had no choice. She couldn’t wait any longer. Annoyingly, the lift began to move when she was halfway to the third floor. For a moment she considered turning around and going back up. Then again, she might as well carry on; she could take the lift from the floor below, if it stopped there. She went down the last few steps and stood by the lift. With a bit of luck it would be Robert Andersson from the third floor. He usually came home around this time. At long last the lift arrived, and she stepped aside to let Robert out, if it was him. But it wasn’t Robert, it was a taller man. She saw beige trousers, a blue polo shirt and a big bunch of roses that covered his face. The lift didn’t stop, it just carried on going up. Ellinor smiled to herself. Someone upstairs was going to receive a beautiful bouquet. Love gave her fresh energy, and she decided to carry on down the stairs. She couldn’t stand around here all day, waiting for lifts.

Not again. Not again. Not again.

Instinctively he thought of pressing the emergency stop button. But by the time the thought was ready to be translated into action, he was already half a metre above the third floor, and would just be stuck there, trapped between floors. Through the lift doors he could see Ellinor trotting down the stairs. Away from him. He had made too many changes to the ritual. She was getting away. The powerful, sweet perfume of the roses suddenly turned his stomach. He yanked open the door when he reached the fourth floor and started to run. Threw caution to the winds. He couldn’t fail this time. If that meant taking major risks, then so be it. How he was going to be able to carry out the ritual was a question he would address later. First he had to get hold of her. He realised at once that he could no longer hear the sound of her footsteps because of the noise his own feet were making. He stopped for a second, and soon heard her again. She couldn’t be far away. A floor below him. He set off again.