The Disciple (69 page)

Torkel swore to himself. What the fuck had Sebastian done? Assaulted a suspect. He wasn’t going to get away with this. Torkel would personally make sure he didn’t.

‘Torkel.’ He heard Billy’s voice from the doorway, and spun around.

‘Now what?’

‘I’ve found something. On Ralph’s computer.’ Billy had been working flat out since he got back from the house in Midsommarkransen, partly because he really wanted to make a contribution, and partly because it helped him to push aside the thought of what would have happened if he had gone for a run with Vanja. Said yes. Been the friend he ought to be. Torkel had taken him aside and pointed out that if he had been with her in Lill-Jansskogen he probably wouldn’t have survived – either that, or they would have had two kidnapped police officers to worry about. Billy had nodded, absolutely, that sounded more than likely, but it was also possible that he and Vanja would both be sitting here now if he hadn’t turned her down. That they would have taken Hinde. He knew it was wrong to think like that, it was counter-productive, but he felt guilty. He simply had to do everything he possibly could to try to find Vanja before it was too late. Everyone working on the case knew that she was going to die, but nobody put it into words. The only question was how much time they had. In the worst-case scenario it was already too late, and those were the thoughts he had to suppress with work. They were utterly debilitating. So he had buried himself in the damaged hard drive from Ralph’s computer, and his efforts had produced results.

Torkel went over to Billy’s desk and bent down to look at the monitor.

‘They’ve been communicating via this fygorh.se home page through a chat programme. I’ve managed to retrieve parts of their conversation.’

‘Get to the point.’ Torkel was impatient. He didn’t care how Billy had got there, he just wanted to know what he had found.

Billy pointed at the screen. ‘Here . . . Ralph is talking about a sports lodge out in the forest where he and his grandfather used to go. It’s pretty incoherent, with a lot of stuff about people who look like animals and . . .’

‘Okay, okay. And is that where they are?’ Torkel demanded.

‘No, but there’s a reply from Edward, quite a long response about the importance of not forgetting. He talks about an uncle he and his mother used to stay with over the summer when he was a little boy. Apparently this uncle never touched Hinde, but his mother came off pretty badly. He links that to his own experiences, the fact that she was damaged. Look.’ Billy pointed to a line lower down on the screen.

‘I think that was where it all started.’

‘Do we know where it is?’

‘I ran a check on Hinde’s mother and found her brother. He used to live in Åkers Styckebruk. He’s dead now.’

‘Have you got an address?’

‘Of course.’

A post-it note with the address written on it would have done, Torkel thought, but he knew what Billy was trying to do. Compensate for the guilt he was feeling. Show that he had worked hard. Done all he could. Torkel completely understood how he felt. He patted his young colleague on the shoulder.

‘Well done.’

Torkel had the special operations unit on the phone before he left the office.

At first she hadn’t grasped what he was doing as he stood there with the mobile in his hand. It had happened so fast. But as he lowered the phone, smiled at her and told her to put on the nightdress, she realised he had used the camera. She should have known. She had missed it because it was a mobile and not a normal camera. She stared at him, her expression furious. He was going to have to put the nightdress on her himself. There was nothing he could do to make her put it on voluntarily. She knew the series of pictures of the victim were a part of his fantasy, and those she had seen in Ralph’s apartment all began in exactly the same way. The woman naked and exposed, just as she was. The next would be a photograph of her wearing the nightdress.

It was going to take him a while to get that picture. She would make sure of it.

She shook her head and turned away from him. He forced her down on the bed, threatening her with both the knife and the Taser. She tried to fight back just enough, prolonging the struggle without making him feel he had to use one of the weapons. It was a difficult balancing act; she had to writhe and resist as much as possible, while still giving him the impression that he was on the way to achieving his goal, that he would be the victor in the end, so that he didn’t decide to knock her out.

Anything to gain time.

Then she suddenly felt it. Something hard and sharp sticking up by the mattress on the right-hand side of the bed. It scratched her hand. He had started to push the nightdress over her face, and she had hurled herself as far to the right as possible, trying to get away from him. She tried to look at the sharp object, wanting to know what it was, but it was impossible from where she was lying; the angle was wrong, and the nightdress was almost covering her eyes. She tried to feel it with her hand instead. She couldn’t find it; she could no longer reach the edge of the bed with her right hand. She decided to start struggling again, this time with the aim of getting her hand closer to the sharp object. She began with a silent roar, tensing her body so that it became as rigid as a plank of wood. It seemed to throw him off balance for a moment. She threw herself to the right so that her hand could reach further over; her fingers fumbled over the edge of the mattress, feverishly searching for the sharp object. She hoped it would be loose. Hinde was pushing her down again, trying to gain control. She let him have it, but held on tightly to the edge of the bed with her right hand. It worked. She allowed him to start putting on the nightdress as her fingers continued their quest. She heard the nightdress tear as he pulled it over her head, and she fought back with her left arm. Suddenly she found what she was searching for. It was something metallic, sharp and hard. She lost her grip on it in the struggle, but now she knew roughly where it was, and she soon managed to get hold of it again. It felt like a broken spring, and it was loose. She tugged at it with her thumb and index finger, but it wouldn’t come out. So she changed tactics and started to bend it backwards and forwards in order to weaken it at the base. Backwards and forwards. As quickly as she could.

It came away and she concealed it in her hand with lightning speed.

She let him pull the nightdress over her head properly so that his focus would be on the task in hand. It worked. He was staring angrily at her as he picked up the knife again.

‘I will use this,’ he said.

She nodded. Allowed him to win. Gave in. She sat up and put on the nightdress, keeping the broken spring hidden in her clenched right hand. As she slid it over her body she dropped the spring between her legs, covering it with the fabric. She could feel it against her thigh like a tiny, slightly cold and sharp irritant.

It was anything but that.

It was hope.

Hinde took another picture of her. Then he came over and cut through the cable tie securing her left leg to the bed.

‘Turn over.’ Vanja knew what came next. He wanted her on her stomach. At first she thought about making it difficult for him, but then she realised she had a better chance of holding onto the spring if she did it herself. She placed her left leg over her right leg, pressing the spring between her thighs, then rolled her upper body. She cried out in pain as the cable tie around her right leg bit into her flesh, but she felt the spring move with her as she lay down on her stomach.

Hinde straddled her legs and began to tie her hands behind her back with a nylon stocking. He checked the knot carefully. It was as if he had slowed down now that she was lying there, ready for the next stage. He got up and stood at the end of the bed. Grabbed hold of her left foot and made sure her legs were spread wide apart before tying her ankle to the bed with another stocking. He did the same with her right ankle before cutting the cable tie. Satisfied with his work, he went back to the box. She watched him take out the various items in order. She recognised them. His supply of food and drink. He disappeared, presumably heading for a small, lockable storeroom.

She started to ease the nightdress up over her thighs so that she could get hold of the little spring.

She hoped he was going to be away for a while. She needed time.

The dirt track along which he was driving was overgrown and rarely used. It twisted and turned through the forest, which after a while was replaced by open fields on both sides. A short distance away he could see what appeared to be a house. The halogen headlights lit up the long grass in front of the car, and he felt as if he was driving through a sea of dry, yellow grass. The light was reflected back at him, making it difficult to see anything other than the dark outline of the house.

He soon reached a fence around a makeshift turning area. He stopped, switched off the engine, got out of the car and waited for his eyes to get used to the darkness. He stared at the house. It looked deserted; there didn’t appear to be any lights on.

He carefully climbed over the fence. The building looming up against the night sky was much clearer now. It was perhaps a hundred metres away. It was large, but not in any way inviting. The moonlight cast a bluish sheen over the roof tiles and the facade, and after a while he was able to make out the dark holes where the windows had been. He started to walk. He thought he could see the faint, flickering glow of candlelight; it was as if the blackness inside suddenly acquired an orange tone from time to time, and faint, almost imperceptible shadows flitted over the windowsills and walls. Now he knew he was in the right place.

He kept on walking.

The tall grass rustled with every step he took towards his fate.

If he was lucky he would be able to trade his life for hers.

If he was unlucky, both he and Vanja would reach the end of their lives tonight.

Vanja had managed to pull up the nightdress and arch her back enough to push her bound hands between her thighs and get hold of the spring. It was now hidden in her right hand again. She could saw at the nylon stocking only when Hinde was out of the room. And that didn’t happen often enough. He had gone out for a while to light candles, but otherwise he was there all the time. He seemed to be waiting for someone. It was as if the ritual, which had been so vital at the beginning, was now of secondary importance. He spent most of the time pacing back and forth, listening.

Vanja had the feeling she was no longer the main character. That she was lying there for a different reason. But it didn’t matter to her. She was aware of the sharpness of the spring against her palm as she waited for him to disappear again so that she could carry on. So far her efforts had produced no perceptible results. Her hands were bound just as tightly; they were also beginning to feel cold and numb because of the restricted flow of blood. What worried her most was that her muscles were growing more and more tired. The question was how long she would be able to carry on.

If only he would leave the room.

But he was still standing there. Completely motionless.