Vanished (30 page)

Thomas Samuelsson was sitting up, leaning against the wall with his head between his knees.

‘Are you alive?’ Annika asked nervously.

‘Just barely,’ he mumbled.

She unlocked the three front-door locks and sank to her knees in front of him.

‘Thomas,’ she said and swallowed. ‘They’ll be back any minute now. We’ve got to get out of here. Can you walk?’

He shook his head, his hair like a brown-spotted curtain.

‘Put an arm around my shoulder and I’ll drag you out. Come on.’

Thomas did as he was told. He was heavier than Annika had expected. Her knees buckled under his weight. She got him to the door and kicked it open. It was almost dark out. She set the man down on the steps. He was pretty woozy and her hands were so slick and shaking that the keys slipped from her hand onto the lawn. She almost started crying.
Damn it to hell.
Maybe she should forget about locking the door? She listened for cars: nothing. She stepped over the dazed man, picked up the keys, then stepped back over him and went up to the door. It crossed Annika’s mind that it would be a good thing to lock the closet door, so she raced in and did just that before shutting the front door and securing the three locks as fast as she could. She hauled Thomas up and dragged him over to the Toyota. A cheerful
blip-blip
and the car doors were open. She dumped him in the passenger seat and ran to the other side, holding the key in both hands to keep it steady as she stuck it into the ignition.
Praise the Lord –
the engine sprang to life immediately. She revved it up, shifted to first gear and drove off over the top of the hill.

The last thing that Annika saw in the rear-view mirror was a car heading uphill behind them.

She drove straight ahead, panic welling up in her and threatening to make her hyperventilate again. The road came to an intersection and she made a sharp right. Thomas Samuelsson slumped towards her and she pushed him back into his seat again.

Christ –
how was she going to make it out of here? Which direction was Stockholm?

She drove downhill, figuring she would hit a thoroughfare somewhere. Now what was the name of this street? Mälarvägen?

Annika checked her rear-view mirror, seeing only the headlights of cars that didn’t seem to be pursuing her. Her gaze returned to the road again and she saw a stop light. A thoroughfare? Viksjöleden! She made another right turn, leaving the house and Rebecka behind her, but soon she realized that she was driving in circles when she passed another major road, Järfällavägen, and recognized her surroundings. The Barkarby Factory Outlet! She could hear Anne Snapphane’s voice joyfully exclaiming: ‘Today is Outlet Day!’ They usually made a run to the place every autumn and every spring to buy leather jackets, sports shoes, and offbeat fashion items from sample collections at bargain prices. There wouldn’t be a problem finding her way home from here. She took the E18 and speed towards Stockholm in the fast lane.

Suddenly her passenger started to throw up. Thomas Samuelsson vomited all over his coat and trousers and banged his head against the dashboard.

‘Shit,’ Annika said. ‘Do you need help?’

He groaned and threw up again. Annika kept driving, desperately looking for an off-ramp and not finding one, feeling trapped and helpless.

Still resting his head against the dashboard, Thomas raised his hands to his head.

‘What the hell happened?’ he asked her in a weak voice.

‘Rebecka and her pal,’ Annika replied. ‘They knocked you out.’

He looked up at her.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘What are
you
doing here?’

Annika kept her gaze on the road. The highway was getting more congested.

‘I heard them lock you into that closet. When they left to get their car, I let you out. You have a concussion, you ought to see a doctor. I’ll take you to Sankt G
ö
ran.’

‘No,’ Thomas protested lamely. ‘I’m fine. My head hurts, that’s all.’

‘That’s a load of crap,’ Annika said. ‘You might have a contusion, it might haemorrhage. You don’t fool around with serious things like that.’

She got a little lost among the off-ramps to the E4, but finally managed to get on track again at Järva Tavern. Then she headed past Hornsberg, pulled up outside the emergency room and parked the car. Her hands were steady as she pulled the keys from the ignition, relieved to have escaped physical harm.

It was dark, a yellow street light tinting everything sepia.

‘I can’t walk in there like this,’ Thomas protested, indicating his soiled coat.

‘We’ll stuff that in the trunk,’ Annika said and went to open the passenger door.

‘Let’s go,’ she said. ‘Get up, I’ll give you a hand.’

The man came to his feet. He was covered with vomit.

‘Let’s get this coat off,’ Annika said and pulled at it. Thomas swayed slightly.

‘Where did you come from?’ he asked, looking at her as if she was a ghost.

‘I’ll fill you in later,’ she replied. ‘Let’s go inside.’

Annika draped one of Thomas’s arms across her shoulders, wound an arm around his waist and lugged him into the emergency room. The lady at the desk reminded her of the one in Katrineholm where her grandmother was: the same style, the same glass window.

‘My trousers,’ Thomas said. ‘They’ve got vomit on them.’

‘We’ll go to the John and wash you off,’ Annika said. ‘Hello, Thomas here has had a blow to the head. He was unconscious for a few minutes, he’s been throwing up and he has a headache. He’s a bit dazed and disorientated.’

‘You’re in luck,’ the lady said. ‘We’re not all that busy here right now, so you can go right in. I’ll be needing your personal ID number.’

‘My pants,’ Thomas whispered.

‘That’s great,’ Annika said. ‘He just has to go to the bathroom first . . .’

Annika waited for Thomas. The examination took no time at all: he wasn’t in bad shape, there were no clinical signs of brain damage and he was pretty lucid. The doctor accompanied him out into the waiting room.

‘Am I going to need a lot of rest?’ Thomas asked.

The doctor smiled. ‘No, that won’t be necessary. Normal physical activity is beneficial – it keeps symptoms like headaches and fatigue from lingering.’

Annika and Thomas went out to the car again, both of them exhausted and relaxed.

‘I’ll take you home,’ Thomas said, heading for the driver’s seat.

‘No way,’ Annika exclaimed. ‘No more driving for you today.
I’
ll take
you
home.’

His response popped out before he should stop it.

‘I don’t want to go home.’

Annika looked at him without showing any surprise on her face. She studied him with an expression that he couldn’t quite figure out, assessing the situation.

‘All right,’ she said finally. ‘We’ll go to my place. You need to recover for a while longer before you get behind the wheel.’

He didn’t protest, just got into the passenger seat and fastened the seat belt. Something occurred to him: he never sat on that side – Eleonor never drove his car, she drove the BMW.

They drove off towards Fridhemsplan and Thomas gazed out the window in silence. So many glittering lights, so many nameless people. There were so many different ways to live your life, so many options.

‘Does your head hurt much?’ Annika asked.

He looked at her and gave her a little smile. ‘Yeah, a lot.’

Strangely enough there were quite a few parking spaces left near her house.

‘The sweeper is scheduled for tonight,’ she explained. ‘Anyone parking here after midnight can look forward to a four hundred kronor fine.’

Thomas put his arm around her shoulders for support while she helped him up the stairs. For such a tiny thing, she was strong. He sensed her breasts under his hand.

Her place was done completely in white; the wooden floors were wavy with wear.

‘The building was built in the 1880s,’ Annika said as she hung up her things. ‘The owner went bankrupt during the real-estate crash in the early 1990s, so it hasn’t been remodelled for a while. Would you like some coffee?’

Thomas smoothed his hands over his damp trousers, wondering if they smelled bad.

‘Yes, I would. Or some wine, if you have it.’

Annika paused to think about it, her back straight, eyes clear.

‘I think I have an opened carton of white wine somewhere, only I’m not sure that it’s good for you to drink anything alcoholic right now. What do you think?’

Thomas flashed her a slightly dazed smile and raked back his hair, taking note of the five stitches he’d received, straightened his tie and smoothed his jacket.

‘I think it’s all right,’ he said. ‘Normal physical activity is beneficial, you know.’

Annika disappeared into the kitchen and Thomas stood there in her living room, slightly woozy and unsure of himself, checking the place out. What a strange room. White matte walls, sheer white curtains, a couch, a table, a TV set, a telephone. Apart from that, the large room was bare. A broken window had been repaired with a paper grocery bag and the draught made the snowy curtains billow. The floor was grey, matte, soft as silk.

‘Go ahead and sit down, if you like,’ Annika said, bringing in a tray with glasses, coffee mugs, a brick-pac carton and a coffee press. She moved gracefully and deftly as she set the table. The thick gold chain around her neck reached down to her breasts.

Thomas sat down. The couch wasn’t particularly comfortable.

‘Do you like it here?’

She sat next to him, poured herself a cup of coffee, poured him some wine and sighed.

‘Sort of,’ she said. ‘At times.’

She picked up her mug and silently studied its contents.

‘I used to love it here,’ Annika said in a low voice. ‘When I moved in I thought it was fantastic to live here. Everything was so light it sort of floated. Then . . . things changed. Not the apartment, other circumstances, my life . . .’

She stopped talking and drank some coffee. Thomas took a sip of the wine; it was surprisingly good.

‘What about you?’ she said, looking up at him. ‘Are you happy?’

He was about to smile but decided not to bother.

‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I’m sick and tired of my life.’

Thomas downed a large mouthful of wine, his candour surprising him. Annika just nodded and didn’t ask why.

‘What were you doing out in Järfälla?’ she asked.

His head throbbing, he closed his eyes and tried to recall the reason.

‘The invoice from Paradise’ he said. ‘Did I bring it with me? I was carrying it when I went to the house. Three hundred and twenty-two thousand kronor for the protection of a client for a three-month period. It came in over the fax this morning even though the woman in question was already dead. Those damned impostors!’

‘I didn’t see an invoice, only heard you mention it,’ Annika said. ‘Then again, I didn’t look closely at the closet. Have you checked your jacket pockets?’

Instantly Thomas checked the garment’s outer pockets: nothing. Felt the inside pocket, found a folded sheet of paper and pulled it out.

‘Here it is. Thank God for that.’

He studied the figures briefly, lowered the paper and looked at Annika.

‘What actually happened?’ he asked. ‘Where did you come from?’

She got up and headed for the kitchen.

‘I think I’ll have some wine too,’ she said and returned with another wineglass.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘I was going to call you. I’ve uncovered a lot more dirt about our friend Rebecka Björkstig. She’s used several different names and is suspected of serious fraud in connection with all her bankruptcies.’

Annika poured some wine from the carton into her glass, then poured some more into his.

‘This morning a keyring arrived in the mail. I’ve been in touch with a woman who has been involved with Paradise: she stayed at the house in Olovslund. She and the rest of her family moved out on Friday and she mailed me the keys from some place up in the middle of Norrland. I went straight to Järfälla.’

Amazed, Thomas looked at her.

‘So you used the keys and let yourself in? Wasn’t there anyone there?’

Annika shook her head.

‘No, but they turned up pretty soon after I got there. I hid upstairs in the attic. Then you showed up and stirred things up. They must have hit you over the head with a frying pan. Rebecka and the guy she was with left to go and get a car, I dragged you out to your Toyota and we drove off.’

Trying to sort out his thoughts, Thomas rubbed his forehead.

‘So you were already there when I arrived?’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘You dragged me out of that closet and got me out of there?’

‘That’s right. And I locked both the closet door and the front door before we left, so you can imagine their expressions when they came to get you.’

Annika grinned and Thomas stared at her for a few seconds before he gave a belly laugh.

‘You locked the closet door? And the front door too?’

‘All three locks.’

They both laughed and then kept on laughing even harder – he howled with laughter, she laughed until she cried.

‘That was fucking incredible!’ he exclaimed.

‘I bet they figured that you had dematerialized.’

Thomas calmed down, his laugher subsiding to chuckles.

‘That I had what?’

Annika smiled.

‘Dematerialized, dissolved, digitized. The way we’ll travel in the future. You dematerialize and transmit yourself by way of a computer from one place to another: it’s quick and it’s easy on the environment. Just think of the possibilities when it comes to travelling in outer space – it will be so convenient.’

Thomas stared at her: what was she talking about?

‘There ought to be something like ten thousand to one hundred thousand civilizations out there that are as evolved as our own, or even more highly evolved, in the Milky Way alone,’ Annika said. ‘Scientists have figured out that life evolves much more easily than we previously thought. It might not be such a tricky process. If the conditions are right, new lives might be created all the time, all over the place. All you need is water in liquid form.’