Lars Kepler - The Nightmare

“What’s going on?” she sobs.

“I have no idea,” Bjorn whispers.

“We haven’t even seen his face. What does he want from us? What the hell does he want? Why is he after us? Why does he want to hurt us?”

She jerks the sleeve of her sweater across her face.

“I think,” she says, “I mean… what if… what if Viola has done something bad, something stupid? You know her boyfriend, Sergei, the guy she broke up with, he must be connected to something criminal… maybe… all I know is that he worked as a bouncer.”

“Penny-”

“I’m just saying, Viola, she’s so… maybe she’s done something wrong.”

“No, it’s not her,” Bjorn whispers.

“What do you mean? We don’t know anything! You don’t have to comfort me.”

“There’s something I have to-”

“He… the man who was after us… maybe he just had something to tell us. No, I know, that’s ridiculous… I mean, I don’t know what I mean.”

“Penny,” Bjorn says seriously. “Everything that’s happened is my fault.”

He looks at her. His eyes are bloodshot, and his cheeks burn red against his pale skin.

“What are you saying now?” she asks in a deadly quiet voice.

He swallows awkwardly before he explains.

“I’ve done something incredibly stupid, Penny.”

“What? What have you done?”

“That photograph,” he answers. “It’s all because of that photograph.”

“Which photograph? The one of Palmcrona and Guidi?”

“That’s the one. I got in touch with Palmcrona,” Bjorn answers honestly. “I told him I wanted money for the picture, but-”

“You didn’t,” she whispers.

Penelope stares at him and instinctively steps backward, managing to knock over the bedside table with its water glass and clock radio.

“Penny-”

“No! No! No! Just shut the hell up!” she’s screaming. “I don’t get it! What the fuck are you trying to tell me? You can’t mean it… you couldn’t have… have you lost your mind? You tried to blackmail Palmcrona? Where was your mind?”

“Listen to me! I regretted it at once. I know it was wrong! He got the picture. I mailed him the picture.”

The room falls silent. Penelope tries to comprehend what Bjorn has told her. Confused thoughts circle through her mind, and she fights to understand Bjorn’s confession.

“That picture belonged to me,” she says slowly. She’s still trying to control her thoughts. “It might be extremely important. Maybe an incredibly important photograph. I was given it in confidence. Someone may be able to explain-”

“I needed money. I didn’t want to have to sell my boat,” Bjorn whispers. He looks like he’s about to cry.

“I still don’t get it-you mailed the picture to Palmcrona?”

“But I had to, Penny. I know it was yours and that it was wrong to send it, but I had to give him the picture.”

“But I’ve got to get it back!” she says desperately. “Don’t you understand? What if the person who sent it to me wants it back? This is big. It’s dealing with Swedish arms exports. This isn’t about your money or lack of it… this has nothing to do with you or me… this is way beyond just us, Bjorn.”

Penelope looks at him in despair. Her voice rises until she’s practically shrieking.

“This is about the lives of human beings! You betrayed me.” With those words her voice falls heavily. “I am so angry with you, I could hit you. This is something I just can’t deal with now.”

“But, Penny, I didn’t know,” he whines. “How was I supposed to know? You never tell me anything. All you said was this picture would embarrass Palmcrona. You never said-”

She interrupts him. “What does that matter?”

“I only thought-”

“Shut the fuck up!” she screams. “I don’t want to listen to your idiotic excuses! You tried to blackmail someone-you’re a greedy little bastard! I don’t know you at all. And you sure as hell don’t know me!”

She falls silent and they stand facing each other. A seagull screams as it flies over the water and then there are other seagulls adding their screams as complaining echoes.

“We have to get out of here soon,” Bjorn says without energy.

Penelope nods and then they hear the click as the outer door opens. Instinctively they move together deeper into the bedroom. They hear the heavy footsteps of a man. Bjorn tries to open the French doors, but they’re locked. Penelope tries unlatching the windows, but she already knows it’s way too late.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the man in the doorway demands in a hoarse voice.

Penelope understands immediately that he’s the owner of the house-not their pursuer. He’s short, broad, slightly chubby. His face seems familiar, as if he’s someone she once knew.

“Are you drug addicts?” he asks with interest.

His face clicks into place. They’ve broken into Ossian Wallenberg’s house. He was a beloved television celebrity, last on the air ten years ago. He hosted many popular variety shows: Golden Friday, Up the Wall, Lion Evening. And he had contests on his shows: games, and prizes, and special guests. Every Golden Friday ended the same way. Ossian would lift up his guest. He’d be smiling and his face would turn red. Penelope remembered that as a child, she’d once seen him pick up Mother Teresa. The delicate old woman had looked completely terrified. Ossian Wallenberg was known for his golden hair, his extravagant clothes-and his studied viciousness.

“We’ve been in an accident,” Bjorn says. “We have to notify the police.”

“I see,” Ossian says indifferently. “I only have a cell phone here.”

“That’s okay. Please, we need to borrow it. We’re desperate.”

Ossian takes out his cell phone, looks at it, and then closes it again.

“What are you doing?” Penelope practically yells.

“I do whatever I want to do,” Ossian replies.

“Look, we really need to borrow your phone,” she says.

“Then you’ll need my PIN number.” Ossian smiles.

“What game are you playing?”

Ossian leans on the doorjamb and observes them for a while.

“Just think, a pair of drug addicts have found their way to little old me.”

“We’re not-”

“No one cares,” says Ossian.

“Let’s go,” Penelope tells Bjorn.

But Bjorn seems incapable of moving. His cheeks and lips are white and he supports himself with one hand on the wall.

“Sorry that we broke into your house,” he says. “We’ll pay for everything we took. But really, we have to use your phone right now. Like she said, it’s a desperate situation-”

“And what’s your name?” Ossian interrupts, smiling.

“Bjorn.”

“You’re looking handsome in my jacket, Bjorn, but why not the tie as well? I’ve got a tie that matches the suit perfectly.”

Ossian walks to his wardrobe and takes out a blue leather tie. Playing along, Bjorn submits to having it tied around his neck.

“You should call the police!” Penelope says. “Tell them that two drug addicts have broken into your house and you caught them in the act.”

“That’s no fun,” Ossian replies.

“So what do you want?” Penelope asks desperately.

Ossian steps back and studies his intruders.

“I don’t like her,” he says to Bjorn. “But you, on the other hand, you have style. My jacket really looks good on you. Let her keep that ugly sweater, right? She looks like Helge the Owl. She doesn’t even look Swedish. She looks like a-”

“Cut it out,” Bjorn says.

Ossian walks close to Bjorn and shakes his finger in his face.

“Be good,” he teases.