Lars Kepler - The Sandman

Her dad was hardly ever home. She can’t bear to think about how he let them down. As an adult she’s tried to tell herself he was only human, he couldn’t help being weak. She repeats it like a mantra, but her fury at him won’t subside. It’s quite incomprehensible that he kept out of the way and handed the burden to his young daughter. She doesn’t want to think about it, never talks about it, it just makes her angry.

The night the illness finally claimed her mother she was so tired she needed help taking her medication. Saga gave her pill after pill, and ran to get more water.

‘I can’t take any more,’ her mum whispered.

‘You have to.’

‘Just call Daddy and tell him I need him.’

Saga did as her mum asked, and told her dad that he had to come home now.

‘Mummy knows I can’t,’ he replied.

‘But you have to, she can’t take any more...’

Later that evening her mum was very weak, she didn’t eat anything but her medication and shouted at Saga when she knocked over the bottle of pills on the rug. Her mum was in terrible pain, and Saga tried to comfort her.

Her mum just asked Saga to call her dad and tell him she’d be dead before morning.

Saga cried and said she mustn’t die, that she didn’t want to live if her mum died. Her tears were trickling into her mouth as she called her dad once more. She sat on the floor, listening to the sound of her own crying and her dad’s answer-phone message.

‘Call... call Daddy,’ her mum whispered.

‘I’m trying,’ Saga sobbed.

When her mum finally fell asleep, Saga turned out the little lamp and stood by the bed for a while. Her mum’s lips were shiny and she was breathing heavily. Saga curled up in her warm embrace and fell asleep, exhausted. She slept beside her mum until she woke up early next morning, frozen.

Saga gets out of bed, looks at the remnants of the broken phone, takes off her coat and lets it fall to the floor, then goes to the kitchen and gets a pair of scissors, and heads for the bathroom. She studies herself in the mirror, sees John Bauer’s pretty princess, and thinks about how she could save a lonely girl. Maybe I’m the only person who can save Felicia, she thinks, looking sternly at her own reflection.

A meeting was arranged just two hours after Saga Bauer told her boss that she’d changed her mind and was going to accept the job.

Now Carlos Eliasson, Verner Zandén, Nathan Pollock and Joona Linna are waiting in a flat on the top floor of Tantogatan 71, with a view of the snow-covered ice in Årstaviken and the rainbow arch of the railway bridge.

The flat is furnished in a modern style, with white furniture and inset lamps. On the large dining table in the living room are plates of sandwiches from Non Solo Bar. Carlos stops abruptly and just stares as Saga walks in. Verner breaks off mid-sentence and looks almost scared, and Nathan Pollock slumps down at the table with a sad look on his face.

Saga has shaved off her long hair. She has several grazes on her scalp.

Her eyes are swollen with crying.

Her pale, beautiful head is still graceful, though, with its small ears and long, narrow neck.

Joona Linna walks over and gives her a hug. She holds him hard for a while, pressing her cheek to his chest and listening to the beat of his heart.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ he says against her head.

‘I want to save the girl,’ she replies quietly.

She holds on for a few more seconds, then goes into the kitchen.

‘You know everyone here,’ Verner says, pulling out a chair for her.

‘Yes,’ Saga nods.

She drops her dark green parka on the floor and sits down. She’s wearing her usual clothes, a pair of black jeans and a tracksuit top from the boxing club.

‘If you really are prepared to go undercover in the same unit as Jurek Walter, we need to act at once,’ Carlos says, unable to hide his enthusiasm.

‘I looked through your contract with us and there are a few things that could be improved,’ Verner adds quickly.

‘Good,’ she mutters.

‘We may have a little scope to increase your salary, and—’

‘I don’t really give a shit about that right now,’ she interrupts.

‘You’re aware that there are certain risks associated with this mission?’ Carlos asks cautiously.

‘I want to do this,’ she says firmly.

Verner pulls a grey phone from his bag, puts it on the table next to his usual mobile, writes a short text message, then looks up at her.

‘Shall we set things in motion, then?’ he asks.

When she nods he sends the message, which vanishes with a small whooshing sound.

‘We’ve got a few hours now to prepare you for what you’ll be faced with,’ Joona says.

‘Get going,’ she says calmly.

The men quickly take out folders, open laptops, spread out their papers. Saga feels a shiver run through her arms when she sees how extensive the preparations are.

The table is covered by big maps of the area around Löwenströmska Hospital, the drains, and a detailed plan of the secure psychiatric unit.

‘You’re going to get a conviction from Uppsala District Court, and you’ll be sent to the women’s section of Kronoberg Prison first thing tomorrow morning,’ Verner explains. ‘In the afternoon you’ll be driven to Karsudden Hospital in Katrineholm. That’ll take an hour or so. By then the Prison Service Committee will be evaluating the proposal to transfer you to Löwenströmska.’

‘I’ve started sketching out a diagnosis that you’ll need to look at,’ Nathan Pollock says, giving Saga a careful smile. ‘You’ll be given a credible medical history, with a juvenile psychiatric record, emergency treatment, placements, diagnoses and all sorts of medication, leading up to the present.’

‘I understand,’ she says.

‘Do you have any allergies or illnesses we ought to know about?’

‘No.’

‘No problems with your liver or heart?’

Wet snow has started to fall outside the borrowed flat on Tantogatan. As the flakes hit the windows they make a clicking sound. On the pale wooden bookshelf there’s a framed photograph of a family in a pool. The dad’s nose is red with sunburn and the two children are laughing as they hold up inflatable crocodiles.

‘To start with, we’ve got very little time indeed,’ Nathan Pollock says.

‘We don’t even know if Felicia is alive,’ Carlos says, and starts tapping the table with his pen. ‘But if she is, it’s extremely likely that she’s suffering from Legionnaires’ disease.’

‘So we may have a week or so,’ Pollock says.

‘But the worst-case scenario is that she’s already been abandoned,’ Joona says, unable to conceal the anxiety in his voice.

‘What do you mean?’ Saga asks. ‘She’s survived more than ten years, and—’

‘Yes,’ Verner interrupts, ‘but one possible explanation for why Mikael was able to escape is that Jurek’s accomplice is ill, or—’

‘He could have died, or he might just have taken off,’ Carlos says.

‘We aren’t going to make it in time,’ Saga whispers.

‘We have to,’ Carlos says quickly.

‘If Felicia doesn’t have access to water, there’s nothing we can do, she’ll die today or tomorrow,’ Pollock says. ‘If she’s as ill as Mikael, she probably won’t survive more than another week, but at least that gives us a chance... there’s a hypothetical possibility, even if the odds are very low.’

‘If she’s only having to go without food, we may have three or four weeks,’ Verner says.

‘We’ve so little to go on,’ Joona says. ‘We don’t know if the accomplice is carrying on as if nothing’s happened, or if he’s buried Felicia alive.’