Lars Kepler - The Hypnotist

“Not exactly.” Joona looks at him calmly and leans back. “I want to take over the case of Erik Maria Bark’s son, the boy who’s disappeared.”

“Out of the question,” says Carlos, without hesitation.

“I was the one who started- ”

“No, Joona, you were given permission to follow the case as long as there was a connection with Josef Ek.”

“There’s still a connection.”

Carlos stands up and leans forward on his desk. “Our instructions are crystal clear. The resources we have are not meant- ”

“I believe the kidnapping is strongly linked to the fact that Josef Ek was hypnotized.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It can’t be a coincidence that Benjamin Bark disappeared less than a week after his father’s first hypnosis in ten years.”

Carlos sits down again. Suddenly he sounds less sure of himself than he tries to come across. “Some kid who’s run away has nothing to do with the National CID. It’s out of the question.”

“He didn’t run away,” Joona says tersely.

Carlos glances over at the fish, leans forward, and lowers his voice. “Just because you have a guilty conscience, Joona, I can’t let you- ”

“Then I’m requesting a transfer,” says Joona, getting to his feet. “A transfer?”

“To the squad that’s handling the case.”

“You’re being stubborn again,” says Carlos.

“But I’m on the right track.” Joona smiles.

“Oh God,” says Carlos, shaking his head anxiously. “Fine. You can’t take over the case- it isn’t your case- but you can have a week to investigate the boy’s disappearance.”

“Good.”

“So now you don’t need to say, ‘What did I tell you?’ ”

“All right.”

Joona rides the lift to his floor, greets Anja- who waves to him without taking her eyes off the computer screen- and passes Petter Näslund’s office, where the radio is on. A sports journalist is commentating on the women’s biathlon with simulated energy in his voice. Joona turns and goes back to Anja.

“Haven’t got time,” she says, without looking at him.

“Yes, you have,” he says calmly.

“I’m in the middle of something really important.”

Joona peers over her shoulder. “What exactly are you working on?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“What’s that?”

She sighs. “It’s an auction. I’m in with the highest bid at the moment, but another idiot keeps pushing the price up.”

“An auction?”

“I collect Lisa Larson figurines,” she replies tersely.

“Those little fat children made of clay?”

“It’s art, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” She looks at the screen. “It’ll be over soon. As long as nobody else makes a higher bid.”

“I need your help,” Joona persists, “with something important. That actually has something to do with your job.”

“Hang on, hang on.” She holds her hand up defensively. “I got them! I got them! I got Amalia and Emma!” She closes the page and turns to him. “OK, Joona, my friend. What was it you wanted help with?”

“I want you to lean on the telecom team and get me a location for the call made by Benjamin Bark on Sunday- two days ago. I want clear information on where he was calling from. Within the next five minutes.”

Anja sighs. “Goodness, you’re in a bad mood.”

“Three minutes.” Joona amends his demand. “Your shopping just cost you two minutes.”

“Fuck off,” she says softly, as he leaves the room.

He goes to his office, sifts through the post, and reads a postcard from Disa. She’s gone to London and says she’s missing him. Disa knows he can’t stand pictures of chimpanzees playing golf or getting tangled up in toilet paper and always manages to find a suitably offensive card. Joona wonders whether to turn the postcard over or just throw it away, but his curiosity gets the better of him. He turns it over and shudders with distaste. A bulldog wearing a sailor’s cap, with a pipe in its mouth. He smiles at the effort Disa has put in, and is just putting the card on his bulletin board when the phone rings.

“Yes?”

“I’ve got an answer,” says Anja.

“That was quick.”

“Did you give me any choice? Anyway, they said they’ve had technical problems, but they called Kennet Sträng an hour ago and told him the base station was in Gävle.”

“In Gävle,” he repeats.

“They said they haven’t quite finished yet. In a day or two, or this week at any rate, they’ll be able to say exactly where Benjamin was when he made the call.”

“You could have come to my office to tell me, I mean, it’s only four steps away.”

“I am not your servant.”

“No.”

Joona writes Gävle on a blank page on the pad in front of him and picks up the phone again.

“Erik Maria Bark,” comes the immediate answer.

“Hi, it’s Joona.”

“How’s it going? Have you found anything out?”

“I’ve just been given an approximate location for the call.”

“Where was he?”

“The only thing we’ve got so far is that the base station is in Gävle.”

“Gävle?”

“Slightly north of- ”

“I know where the place is. I just don’t understand.”

Joona can hear Erik moving around the room. “We’ll get a more precise location sometime this week,” he says.

“Sometime?”

“Tomorrow, hopefully.”

“So will you take over the case?” Erik asks, his voice full of tension.

“I’m taking over the case, Erik,” says Joona firmly. “I will find Ben jamin.”

“Thank you.” Erik clears his throat, and goes on, once his voice is steady again. “I’ve been giving some thought to who could have done this, as you suggested, and I have the name of a person I’d like you to trace. Eva Blau. She was a patient of mine about ten years ago.”

“Blau? Like blue in German?”

“Yes.”

“Had she threatened you?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I’ll do a search right away.” Joona writes the name on a pad. “One other thing. I’d really like to see you and Simone as soon as possible.”

“All right. What’s up?”

“Nobody did a reconstruction of the crime, did they?”

“No.”

“To remind Simone of exactly what she saw. And there may have been witnesses. It’ll help us figure out who may have had the opportunity to see the crime take place. Will you be home in half an hour?”

“I’ll call Simone,” says Erik. “We’ll wait for you there.”

“Good.”

“Joona,” says Erik.

“Yes?”

“I know it’s usually a matter of hours if the perpetrator is caught. I know it’s the first twenty-four hours that count. And now it’s- ”

“Don’t you believe we’re going to find him?”

“It’s… I don’t know,” Erik whispers.

“I’m not usually wrong,” Joona replies quietly, but with a sharpness in his voice. “And I believe we’re going to find your son.”

Joona hangs up. He takes the piece of paper with Eva Blau’s name on it and goes to see Anja again. There is a strong smell of oranges in her office. A bowl of assorted citrus fruits stands next to the computer with its pink keyboard; on one wall hangs a large shiny poster showing a muscular Anja swimming the butterfly in Barcelona, at the 1992 Summer Olympics.

Joona smiles. “I was the safety officer when I was doing my military service. I could swim ten kilometres with a signal flag. But I’ve never been able to do butterfly.”

“It’s a waste of energy, that’s what it is.”

“Oh, not at all. I think it’s beautiful- you looked like a mermaid, swimming along,” says Joona.