The Disciple (51 page)

‘It was very quick. She choked before she bled to death, so the end came quickly. Relatively quickly.’

Sebastian didn’t answer. He looked even paler. Ursula addressed herself to the others. He deserved to suffer.

‘It’s difficult to determine the exact time of the attack. She was lying in direct sunlight. But if Sebastian left her at five, then the murderer definitely turned up very soon after. The preliminary estimate is between five and ten a.m.’

‘So he followed Sebastian to her apartment?’

‘That’s a reasonable assumption. Particularly as we now know that Sebastian was being followed.’

The room fell silent, a silence evoked by the proximity between Sebastian and the murderer. Sebastian searched feverishly for some memory of that fateful morning. Had he seen anyone? Anything? Met anyone on the stairs? Heard a car door slam and turned to look? Caught a glimpse? But there was nothing.

‘I didn’t see anyone, but then again I wasn’t looking either.’

‘No, I assume you just wanted to get away as quickly as possible. Cosy breakfasts don’t seem to be your thing,’ Vanja said acidly. Sebastian lowered his gaze. Didn’t want to respond. Wasn’t going to respond. Wasn’t going there again. Cooperation not confrontation.

Torkel joined in with the discussion. ‘We’ll send out some uniforms to conduct fresh door-to-door enquiries now we’ve narrowed down the time frame. One of the neighbours might have seen someone hanging around.’

‘Ideally in the vicinity of a blue Ford Focus,’ Billy chipped in.

‘Where are we up to with the cars?’ Torkel asked.

‘We didn’t get any more from the Focus, and the Toyota has passed a number of congestion-charge pay stations; the most recent was yesterday morning . . .’

There was a knock on the door and a young constable came in, looking stressed. ‘Excuse me, but there’s a phone call for you, Vanja. Apparently it’s important.’

‘It’ll have to wait, we’re in the middle of a meeting.’

‘It’s from Lövhaga. Edward Hinde . . .’

They all stiffened. For a second they thought they had misheard.

‘Are you sure?’ Vanja asked, sounding dubious. ‘Edward Hinde?’

‘That’s what he said.’

Vanja pulled the phone on the table towards her. ‘Put him through, please.’

The young constable quickly turned and left the room. Vanja leaned forward, waiting for the call. The others also edged closer. It was as if the cream-coloured plastic object on the table had become the room’s centre of gravity, drawing them all towards it. Billy stood next to Vanja with one hand on the speaker button; at the same time he placed his mobile next to the loudspeaker with the other hand. They all waited in silence. Only Sebastian stayed where he was, a little distance away. He was frantically trying to work out what was going on. Why was Hinde on the phone? What was the purpose behind his call? Should he try to stop it? This didn’t bode well, he felt instinctively. As usual, Hinde was ahead of them.

He acted.

They reacted.

Never the other way round.

The sound of the telephone made them all jump, even though they had been waiting for it. Billy pressed speaker phone and the recording function on his mobile simultaneously. A soft rushing sound came through the loudspeaker. Someone was on the other end. Suddenly Hinde was there with them. Subconsciously Vanja leaned forward even more, as if she were trying to hear if he was really there in the silence.

‘Vanja Lithner . . .’

The answer came quickly and clearly. ‘This is Edward Hinde. I don’t know if you remember me.’

It was definitely him. The well-modulated voice. Calm, focused, and behind the self-possession the certain knowledge that he had the advantage. This was obviously his next move. Sebastian could see him in his mind’s eye. The smile, the cold watery eyes, the telephone held close to his mouth.

Vanja attempted to sound equally composed. ‘I do, yes.’

‘How are you?’ Hinde’s tone was relaxed, intimate. As if he were ringing an old friend for a chat.

‘What do you want?’ Vanja almost hissed. ‘Why are you calling?’

They heard Edward laugh out loud.

‘Vanja, this is my first telephone call for a very, very long time. Can’t we spin it out a little?’

‘I thought you weren’t allowed any calls.’

‘They made an exception.’

‘Why?’

Sebastian took a step towards Vanja. He was asking himself the very same thing. Someone at Lövhaga had done a deal with Hinde. And had undoubtedly come off worst. He felt that this conversation should be brought to an end right now. Hinde’s tone was too playful, too familiar. Too self-satisfied. There was something about it that scared the shit out of Sebastian. That was his daughter, having a conversation with a man who always had a plan. Who always carried it through. Torkel saw that Sebastian was about to move forward, and stopped him with a keen glance. Sebastian hesitated. His mandate was weaker than ever. He had lost Torkel’s trust. He gave his temporary boss a pleading look, but Torkel shook his head. Meanwhile the conversation continued.

‘I have information you ought to be aware of.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘Just you. Because I presume the others are listening at the moment.’

Vanja looked enquiringly at Torkel, who gave her a quick nod in response. In all probability Edward knew that Vanja would never take the call alone, and lying felt like more of a risk.

‘That’s right.’

‘The information I wish to pass on is for your ears only. But perhaps you won’t be allowed to come and see me again?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Sebastian seemed very protective of you. It was almost as if he thought you wouldn’t be able to cope with me on your own. Is he there?’

Sebastian answered without asking Torkel’s permission. Went and stood next to Vanja.

‘I’m here. What do you want?’

‘Vanja can come over and have a little chat with me, can’t she? Please?’

‘Why? If you’ve got something to say, you can say it now.’

‘No. Only to Vanja. Face to face.’

‘Never,’ Sebastian heard himself saying.

But it was too late. There was a clatter as the phone was put down and the rushing sound disappeared. The connection had been broken. Hinde was gone. Vanja got to her feet with a determined expression on her face. Sebastian immediately realised where she was going.

‘No, Vanja. Don’t do it. Don’t go there.’

She looked at him crossly. ‘Because?’

‘He won’t give you anything. He just wants attention. I know Edward Hinde.’

‘Hang on a minute. We suspect he’s involved. He rings and offers information. Are we just supposed to ignore that?’

‘Yes.’

Sebastian looked at her, his eyes pleading. As if that would make any difference. He could feel the whole thing slipping through his fingers, but he had to fight. He knew that he couldn’t let go, not under any circumstances. Not again. Vanja must not go there. No way.

‘Is it because he didn’t ring you? Is that the problem? The fact that he might want to tell
me
something?!’ Vanja met his eyes, every bit of her ready for battle.

‘No – it’s dangerous!’

‘What the hell are you talking about? I can take care of myself.’ She turned to Torkel for support. Which was immediately forthcoming. She was almost taken by surprise.

‘You can go. We might as well find out what he wants.’

‘But what about the visiting order?’

‘I’ll sort it.’

‘Oh, so
now
you can sort it,’ Sebastian muttered.

Torkel pretended he hadn’t heard.

‘I can fix you up with a wire,’ Billy said, heading for the door.

Vanja stopped him. ‘No. If he notices he might clam up.’

‘He’s not going to say anything important anyway,’ Sebastian said, determined not to give up. ‘He’s just going to go all round the houses. Talking a load of crap . . . Lies.’

Vanja interrupted Sebastian. ‘In that case you two
do
have something in common.’

‘Vanja . . .’

Sebastian watched her as she walked towards the door. He was terrified; she was on her way to Hinde. To the Monster. He couldn’t give up; his final words to her were a feeble appeal.

‘At least let me come with you.’

Her response was anything but sympathetic. She didn’t even look at him. ‘Sorry, you weren’t invited.’ And with that she walked out.

Sebastian suddenly had the feeling he would never see her again. That all his efforts to reach her had been in vain. He slumped down on a chair. The others looked at him, uncomprehending. They already knew how self-centred Sebastian was, but his reaction to the situation still seemed extreme. For Torkel it was the final straw. Sebastian had really lost the plot. He seemed to regard the fact that Vanja was going to see Hinde on her own as some kind of personal defeat. It reminded him a little of the moment when Sebastian had told him he had slept with all the women who had been murdered. Torkel had seen the same mixture of panic and sorrow in his eyes. It had been understandable on that occasion, but not now. Now it was merely unacceptable. The very idea of wanting to stop Vanja, the best police officer on the team, from obtaining information was overstepping every conceivable mark, irrespective of whether it was because he didn’t think she could do it or because he thought he should have been the chosen one.

Sebastian looked at them, especially Torkel; he could see the lack of understanding in their eyes, but hadn’t the strength to explain. They would never be able to grasp the whole picture anyway; it was too complex. Sebastian stiffened. What if that was the explanation? What if Hinde knew? He turned to Ursula.

‘Can I borrow your car?’

She shook her head. ‘No, Sebastian.’

‘Can I borrow your fucking car?!’

Ursula looked in astonishment at Torkel, who also shook his head. ‘That’s enough now, Sebastian.’

Sebastian was furious. ‘Not for me. Give me the keys!’

‘Sebastian, we can’t go on like this,’ Torkel began.

‘Fine! Good!’ Sebastian broke in. ‘Kick me out! I couldn’t give a damn! But give me the fucking car keys!’

After another glance at Torkel, who responded with a resigned shrug, Ursula reached for her bag, which was hanging on the back of the chair. She dug out the car keys and tossed them to Sebastian.

He almost ran out of the room.

He had to find a way to stop Vanja.

He just didn’t know how.

He ran through the open-plan office, normally an oasis of calm. Those who were working there stared at him with curiosity, but he didn’t care. He hoped that she had had to wait for one of the lifts down to the car park, and that he would catch up with her by taking the stairs. By the door leading out of the office he crashed into two women carrying takeaway coffees. One of them dropped hers, but Sebastian pushed past her without stopping and tore open the door. His feet flew down the stairs, and he counted the floors as he went. Third, second, first; there were two floors of parking spaces and he hoped Vanja had parked in her usual spot on the upper level. He flung open the heavy grey metal door. Ran in among the cars. The car park was almost full. He heard an engine spring into life a short distance away, and ran in that direction. Then he saw her. She was just pulling out, heading towards Fridhemsplan.

‘Vanja! Wait!’

Presumably she hadn’t seen him. Or she was just ignoring him. At any rate, she kept on going. He watched the car disappear. Looked around. Realised that he didn’t know what car Ursula drove. Or where she had parked it. He looked at the key in his hand. Volvo. He ran, pressing the button on the black ignition key in the hope that the lights on one of the cars would flash and show him the way. No luck. He dashed around the car park, pressing the button over and over again. After a while he heard the click. The car was at one end, as far from the exit as possible, and it responded to his constant pressing with reassuring flashes. He raced over, opened the door and got in. Fumbled with the key for a moment before he managed to start the car.

Foot to the floor, the tyres screeching as he swung around.

He still didn’t have a plan.

Except to drive as fast as possible.

To stop her.

Haraldsson’s morning had been everything he’d hoped it would be.

The alarm went off at six twenty, and he got up right away. Jenny was fast asleep on her side of the bed. He closed the bedroom door quietly, pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants and went downstairs. The feeling he had as he headed for the bathroom reminded him of the way he used to feel as a child coming up to Christmas and birthdays: a bubbling happiness, knowing that an utterly perfect day lay ahead. He went to the toilet and had a quick shower, then went into the kitchen. He began by melting a bar of chocolate in a bowl over a pan of boiling water, then dipped the strawberries he had bought on the way home yesterday. He placed them on a dish to allow the chocolate to set, then got out the toaster and frying pan. Toasted and fried. Bread and bacon. Sliced the melon. Cracked four eggs, mixed in the milk and melted butter in the frying pan. Made more toast. Switched on the kettle and put a tea bag in a cup. Took cheese and raspberry jam out of the fridge. Set everything out on the biggest tray they had. Feeling very pleased with himself, he checked that everything was as it should be. Finally he went out to the car and opened the glove compartment. Removed a little red box. A ring. Gold, with a diamond and two rubies. He hadn’t given Jenny a present the morning after their wedding. He hadn’t actually realised that it was expected of him. Jenny’s friends and his female colleagues had been very surprised to hear that Jenny hadn’t received anything. Or as Margareta in the Västerås police had put it: ‘So Jenny ended up with nothing after her wedding night.’ As if the fact that she had gained Thomas Haraldsson as her husband didn’t count. Jenny had never mentioned it. Never breathed a word of disappointment, or hinted that she had missed the traditional gift. But now she was going to have her present. Five years too late. But better late than never.

Haraldsson hurried back indoors and placed the little red box on the tray. Perfect. He picked up the tray and went upstairs.