Lars Kepler - The Nightmare

Penelope can’t comprehend why the young woman is so angry. She’s unable to concentrate on her question. Her thoughts whirl as she anxiously scans the area between the trees while she hears the signal go through. The ringing crackles. It sounds far away.

“So real work’s not good enough for you?” The woman is really working herself up.

Penelope pleads with Bjorn with her eyes to help her out here and calm the woman down. She sighs as she hears her mother’s voice on the answering machine.

“This is Claudia Fernandez. I can’t answer the phone right now, but please leave a message and I’ll call back as soon as I can.”

Tears run down her cheeks and her knees are about to buckle. She’s so tired. She holds up her hand toward the woman in a plea.

“We paid for our phones with our own money we earned ourselves,” the young woman says. “You do the same. Pay for your own damn phone…”

The line is breaking up. Penelope moves away in search of a better signal but it only gets worse. It cuts out and she’s not sure she’s even gotten through as she starts to speak.

“Mamma, I need help. People are after us-”

The woman yanks the phone from Penelope’s hand and tosses it back to the young man.

“Get a job!” he yells.

Penelope sways in shock. She watches the woman climb onto the motorcycle behind the man and wrap her arms around his waist.

“Please!” Penelope calls after them. “Please- ”

Her voice is lost in the roar of the motorcycle as it speeds away, spitting gravel. Bjorn and Penelope start to run after them, but the motorcycle disappears down the track to Skinnardal.

“Bjorn,” Penelope says as she stops running.

“Keep running,” he yells.

She’s out of breath. This is a mistake, she thinks. He stops and looks at her. Then he starts walking away.

“Wait! He understands how we think!” she yells after him. “We have to outwit him!”

Bjorn walks more slowly and then turns to look at her. He keeps on walking backward.

“We’ve got to get help,” he pleads.

“Not yet.”

Bjorn slowly comes to a stop and then returns. He takes her by the shoulders.

“Penny, I’m sure that it’s only ten minutes or so to the first house. You can do it. I’ll help-”

“We have to get back in the woods,” Penelope says. “I know that I’m right.”

She pulls off her hair band and throws it on the road in front of them and heads back into the woods, away from habitation.

Bjorn looks behind him down the road, then reluctantly follows Penelope. Penelope hears him behind her. He catches up and takes her hand. They’re now running side by side but not all that fast. A small inlet of water bars their way. They wade across for approximately forty meters, the water coming up to their thighs. Out of the water, they start to jog again in shoes that are completely soaked.

Ten minutes later, Penelope slows down. She stops, takes a deep breath, lifts her gaze, and looks around. Somehow she no longer senses the cold presence of their pursuer. Bjorn asks, “When we were in the house, why’d you yell for him to come in?”

“He’d have just come inside anyway-but he didn’t expect a voice.”

“Still-”

“Up to now, he’s been one step ahead of us,” she continues. “We’ve been scared and he knows how fear makes people stupid.”

“Still, even stupid people don’t say, ‘Come on in,’ ” Bjorn says, and a tired smile crosses his face.

“That’s why we can’t head toward Skinnardal. We have to zigzag, change our direction all the time, keep deep in the forest, and head toward nothing at all.”

“Right.”

She observes his exhausted face and his white, dry lips.

“I think we have to think it out now. Try new ideas. I believe that we have to… instead of heading for the mainland… we have to keep going farther out into the archipelago and away from the mainland.”

“No one in their right mind would do that.”

“Can you keep going?” she asks softly.

He nods and they begin to move again, farther into the forest, farther away from roads, from houses and people.

Axel Riessen unbuttons the cuff links from his stiff shirtsleeves and puts them in the bronze bowl on his dresser. The cuff links were an inheritance from his grandfather, Admiral Riessen. This design is civilian, however, a heraldry design consisting of two crossed palm leaves.

Axel studies himself in the mirror next to the closet door. He loosens his tie and then walks to the bed and sits down on the edge. The radiator hisses and he thinks he can make out snatches of music coming through the wall.

The music is coming from his younger brother’s apartment in their shared family mansion. One lone violin, Axel thinks as his mind gathers the fragments he’s heard into a whole. It’s the Bach Violin Sonata in G Minor, the first movement, an adagio, but played much more slowly than conventional interpretations. Axel hears not only the musical notes but also every single overtone as well as an accidental bump against the body of the violin.

His hands long to take up a violin. His fingers tremble when the music changes tempo. It’s been a long time since he’s let his fingers play with the music, running over the strings and up and down the fingerboard.

When the telephone rings, the music in his head falls silent. He gets up from the bed and rubs his eyes. He’s very tired and hasn’t slept much for the past week.

Caller ID reveals that the call is coming from Parliament. Axel clears his throat before he answers in a calm voice.

“Axel Riessen.”

“I’m Jorgen Grunlicht. As you may know, I’m the president of the Government Panel for Foreign Affairs.

“Good evening.”

“Please excuse me for calling so late.”

“I was still awake.”

“They told me you might be,” Jorgen Grunlicht says. He hesitates before continuing. “We’ve had an extra board meeting just now where we decided to try to

recruit you for the post of general director for the ISP.”

“I understand.”

There’s silence on the other end. Grunlicht adds hastily, “I assume you know what happened to Carl Palmcrona.”

“I read about it in the newspaper.”

Grunlicht clears his throat and says something that Axel can’t understand before Grunlicht raises his voice again. “You are already aware of our work and-if you accept our nomination-could get up to speed fairly quickly.”

“I’d have to resign my UN post,” Axel replies.

“Is that a problem?” Grunlicht’s voice seems worried.

“No, not really-I’ve been taking some time off anyway.”

“We’ll be able to discuss the terms, of course… but there’s nothing that’s off the table,” Grunlicht says. “You must already know we would like you on board. There’s no point in keeping that a secret.”

“I need to think about it.”

“Can you meet us tomorrow morning?”

“You’re in a hurry.”

“We’ll take, of course, the time needed,” Grunlicht replies. “But it must be said that after what happened… there have been hints from the economics minister about a matter already delayed-”

“And that would be?”

“Nothing unusual, just an export permit. The preliminary report was positive and the Export Control Committee has completed its work, the contracts have been signed. Unfortunately, Palmcrona wasn’t able to sign it.”

“His signature was required?”

“Only the general director can approve exports of defense materiel or products of dual usage,” Jorgen Grunlicht explains.

“But can’t the government approve certain business transactions at times?”