Lars Kepler - The Sandman

‘I’ve read about that,’ Joona says.

‘Mitrofan Nedelin rushed the development of an intercontinental rocket,’ Nikita says, looking at the glowing tip of his cigarette. ‘It exploded in the middle of the cosmodrome, and more than a hundred people were burned to death. Vadim Levanov and the twins were unaccounted for. For months we thought they’d been killed along with everyone else.’

‘But they hadn’t,’ Joona says.

‘No,’ Nikita says. ‘He fled because he was afraid of reprisals, and he would certainly have ended up in the gulag, probably the Siblag work camp... but instead he turned up in Sweden.’

Nikita Karpin falls silent and slowly stubs his cigarette out on a small porcelain saucer.

‘We kept Vadim Levanov and the twins under constant surveillance, and obviously we were prepared to liquidate him,’ Karpin goes on quietly. ‘But we didn’t need to... because Sweden treated him like garbage, and arranged a special gulag for him... The only work he could get was as a manual labourer in a gravel quarry.’

Nikita Karpin’s eyes flash cruelly.

‘If you’d shown any interest in what he knew, Sweden could have been first into space,’ he laughs.

‘Maybe,’ Joona replies calmly.

‘Yes.’

‘So Jurek and his brother arrived in Sweden at the age of ten or so?’

‘But they only stayed a couple of years,’ Nikita smiles.

‘Why?’

‘You don’t become a serial killer for no reason.’

‘Do you know what happened?’ Joona asks.

‘Yes.’

Nikita Karpin gazes out of the window and wets his lips. The low winter light is shining in through the uneven glass.

Today Saga is first into the dayroom, and immediately gets onto the running machine. She manages to run for four minutes, and has just lowered the speed and started to walk when Bernie comes in from his room.

‘I’m going to start driving a taxi when I’m free... Bloody hell, like some fucking Fittipaldi... and you can ride for free, and I’ll get to touch you between—’

‘Just shut up,’ she cuts him off.

He nods, looking wounded, then walks straight over to the palm leaf, turns it over and points at the microphone with a thin grin.

‘Now you’re my slave,’ he laughs.

Saga jabs him hard, making him stumble back and sit down on the floor.

‘I want to escape as well,’ he hisses. ‘I want to drive a taxi and—’

‘Shut up,’ Saga says, checking over her shoulder to see if the guards are on their way in through the airlock.

But no one seems to be watching them on the monitor in the security control room.

‘You’re going to take me with you when you escape, do you hear—’

‘Shut up,’ Jurek interrupts behind them.

‘Sorry,’ Bernie whispers quietly at the floor.

Saga didn’t hear Jurek come into the dayroom. A shiver runs down her spine when she realises that he may have seen the microphone under the palm leaf.

Maybe her cover is already blown?

Maybe it’s going to happen now, she thinks. The crisis she’s been dreading is happening now. She feels adrenalin rushing through her, and tries to visualise the plan of the secure unit. In her thoughts she moves quickly through the marked doors, the different zones, the best places to take temporary shelter.

If Bernie blows her cover, she’ll have to barricade herself in her room to start with. Ideally she needs to get hold of the microphone and shout for immediate backup, get them to come and rescue her.

Jurek stops in front of Bernie, who’s lying on the floor whispering his apologies.

‘You’re to pull the lead off the running machine, then go to your room and hang yourself from the top of your door,’ Jurek tells him.

Bernie looks up at Jurek with fear in his eyes.

‘What? What the fuck...?’

‘Tie the lead to the handle on the outside, throw it over the door and pull your plastic chair over,’ Jurek explains curtly.

‘I don’t want to, I don’t want to,’ Bernie says, his lips trembling.

‘We can’t have you alive any longer,’ Jurek says calmly.

‘But... what the fuck, I was only joking, I know very well that I can’t come with you... I know it’s just your thing... just your thing...’

Nathan Pollock and Corinne Meilleroux both stand up from the table when the situation in the dayroom becomes more acute.

They realise that Jurek has decided to execute Bernie, and are hoping that Saga won’t forget that she has no police responsibilities or rights.

‘There’s nothing we can do,’ Corinne whispers.

Slow, thunderous rumbling sounds emerge from the speakers. Johan Jönson adjusts the sound levels and scratches his head anxiously.

‘Give me a punishment instead,’ Bernie whimpers. ‘I deserve a punishment...’

‘I can break both his legs,’ Saga says.

Corinne wraps her arms round herself and is trying to control her breathing.

‘Don’t do anything,’ Pollock whispers to the speaker. ‘You have to trust the guards, you’re only a patient.’

‘Why hasn’t anyone come in?’ Johan Jönson says. ‘The guards must have noticed what’s going on, for God’s sake?’

‘If she acts, Jurek will kill her at once,’ Corinne whispers, the stress making her French accent come to the fore.

‘Don’t do anything,’ Pollock pleads. ‘Don’t do anything!’

Saga’s heart is pounding in her chest. She can’t make any sense of her thoughts as she gets off the running machine. It’s not her job to protect other patients. She knows she mustn’t step out of her role as a schizophrenic patient.

‘I can break his kneecaps,’ she tries. ‘I can break his arms and fingers and—’

‘It would be better if he just died,’ Jurek concludes.

‘Come on,’ she says quickly to Bernie. ‘The camera’s hidden here—’

‘Snow White, what the fuck?’ Bernie snivels, moving closer to her.

She grabs hold of his wrist, pulls him closer and breaks his little finger. He screams and sinks to his knees, clutching his hand to his stomach.

‘Next finger,’ she says.

‘You’re both mad,’ Bernie sobs. ‘I’ll call for help... my skeleton slaves will come...’

‘Be quiet,’ Jurek says.

He walks over to the running machine and removes the lead, yanking it out from the skirting board, sending a shower of concrete dust over the floor.

‘Next finger,’ Saga tries.

‘Just stand back,’ Jurek says, looking her in the eye.

Saga remains where she is, with one hand against the wall, as Bernie follows Jurek.

The situation feels absurd as she watches Jurek tie the lead round the handle on the side of the door facing the dayroom and throw it over the top of the door.

She feels like shouting out.

Bernie looks at her beseechingly as he climbs onto the plastic chair and puts the noose round his neck.

He tries to talk to Jurek, smiling and repeating something.

She stands there, immobile, thinking that the staff must surely see them now. But no guards come. Jurek has been in the unit for so long that he’s learned their routines by heart. Maybe he knows that this is when they have a coffee break, or change shifts.

Saga moves slowly towards her own room. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do, can’t understand why no one’s come in.

Jurek says something to Bernie, waits a while, repeats the words, but Bernie is shaking his head as tears spring to his eyes.

Saga keeps walking backwards with her heart pounding. A sense of unreality is spreading through her body.

Jurek kicks the chair away, then walks through the dayroom straight into his own room.