Ларс Кеплер - Stalker

In 2013 a murder was committed at the hotel, after a sofa in room 247 was changed. Naturally, everyone claims that there was no connection between the two events, but now the staff refuse to make any adjustments to the layout of the room.

Adam has been sitting in his car in front of the old electricity works for five hours, watching the entrance to the hotel. Joona has been standing outside, wrapped in his blanket, holding out a cup with some coins in it.

Thirty-five guests have gone in during that time, but no Eugene.

Further down the street a grey-haired waiter is squatting down outside an Italian restaurant, smoking. When the church bells slowly strike eleven o’clock, Joona limps over to the car.

‘You’d better go in,’ he says to Adam.

‘Can’t you come with me?’

‘I’ll wait here,’ Joona says.

Adam drums his thumbs on the steering wheel.

‘OK,’ he says, and rubs his chin a few times.

‘Take it easy in there,’ Joona says. ‘Just because they’re there doesn’t make them criminals. You’re likely to see quite a lot of drugs, but ignore that. You should intervene only if you see signs of forced sexual activity, or if there’s anyone underage.’

Adam nods, and feels his stomach flutter as he gets out of the car and walks into the hotel.

The softly curved reception desk is empty except for a man talking on the phone.

Adam goes over to the desk, shows his ID, is given a passcard and continues towards the lifts. The Retro Room is at the end of the corridor, and on the door handle is a floppy plastic sign saying ‘Do not disturb’.

Adam hesitates, then lowers the zip of his black leather jacket. His white T-shirt is tucked inside his black jeans, and his Sig Sauer is in a holster beneath his left armpit.

All he has to do is go in, nice and calmly, he tells himself. Find Eugene, take him to one side, and ask his questions.

Adam clears his throat and runs the card through the reader. The lock clicks and a little green light comes on. He opens the door, walks into a dark hallway, and shuts the door behind him.

He can hear music and muffled voices, and a bed creaking.

The light is weak, but it isn’t completely dark. He looks around. He’s in a small lobby where people have left their clothes.

A woman with a boyish blonde haircut comes out of the bathroom and blinks at him in the darkness. She’s wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy black silk panties, and she’s so beautiful that his heart starts to beat faster.

She’s got traces of white powder stuck in the lip-gloss at one corner of her mouth. She looks at Adam with big, black pupils surrounded by a narrow ring of ice-blue. She moistens her lips and says something that he doesn’t hear, before going back into the bedroom.

He follows her, unable to stop himself staring at her naked, glistening back.

Inside the dimly lit room there’s a sweet, smoky smell.

Adam stops and looks over at the bed, then looks away again immediately. He shuffles sideways along the wall, passing a naked man with a glass of champagne in his hand, then stops.

No one has reacted to his presence.

A woman pushes past, her eyes focused on the floor. The wallpaper is pink and wavy, the carpet brown with a starburst pattern. There are no lamps on, but the light of the city outside reaches around the curtains, spreading across the ceiling.

The whole room is heavy with the smell of excited people. Wherever Adam looks he can see glistening genitals, open mouths, breasts, tongues, buttocks.

Apart from the music, there’s very little sound. The people having sex are concentrating on that, intent on their own or their partner’s pleasure. Others are resting, watching the orgy with a hand between their legs.

His pulse thuds in his ears and he can feel himself blushing.

He needs to try to find Eugene.

Adam passes a beautiful woman in her thirties. He can’t help looking at her. She’s wearing a batik blouse, and is sitting on the desk with her eyes closed. Her exposed crotch looks like it’s been powdered. It resembles polished marble, with a line drawn on it in pink chalk.

None of it is as desperate or grubby as he had imagined. It’s more introverted, more self-aware.

Adam carries on round the bed, wondering if this is all simply part of these people’s trendy lifestyle.

He’s the same age as most of the people there, but he’s only there to do his job, and then go home to his wife in Hägersten, no doubt to remember what he has seen forever. He knows already that he won’t be able to talk to her about it — not seriously. He’ll end up joking about it, or turning it into something disgusting.

He looks at the people around him, and thinks that he’ll be able to tell himself that they’re spoiled, that he feels sorry for them, but that isn’t true, not right then.

A pang of envy runs through him.

Adam carries on through the open sliding door to the next room. The wallpaper is darker here, with big, bold patterns, like pale green crystals.

The music is louder. Two naked men have put an orange plastic armchair on top of the bed. A woman with straight black hair is sitting on the chair, laughing as the others rock the armchair on the mattress. More men join in, someone grabs hold of her feet and starts to laugh louder.

The woman with the boyish haircut is kneeling in front of a glass-topped table, dabbing at the remains of some white powder and rubbing her finger on her gums.

He steps aside and almost stands on a large tube of lubricant lying on the floor. Dust and strands of hair have stuck to the goo that’s spilled out.

In the window are ten glasses full of champagne. Drops of condensation are running down the stems and forming small puddles on the marble sill.

Further into the room Adam reaches a windowless passageway containing wardrobes and a suitcase rack. The bathroom door is half-open. A naked woman is sitting slumped on the lid of the toilet, her stomach folded and one arm tensed.

‘Are you all right?’ Adam asks softly.

She lifts her head and looks at him. Her eyes are dark and moist, and he gets a strong feeling that he ought to leave the hotel.

‘Help me,’ she whispers.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I can’t stand up,’ she mumbles.

A slim man comes towards them from the bedroom and stops in the doorway. His erect penis sways as he moves.

‘Is Paula here?’ he asks.

He looks at them through half-closed eyes, and then disappears the way he came.

‘Help me up,’ the woman says, breathing through her mouth.

Adam takes her hand and pulls her up on to her feet. He backs away and she stumbles out of the bathroom, managing to pull a towel down from the rail. Only now does he notice that she has a dildo strapped around her hips. She falls towards him and puts her hand round his neck.

The woman’s breath smells of alcohol, and the dildo slips between his thighs. Her legs begin to give way and he holds her up, feeling her heavy breasts against his body.

‘Can you stand?’

‘I don’t know if this thing is on right,’ she mutters against his neck. ‘Can you check the strap at the back?’

She turns round, leans one hand against the wall, knocking a brown wall-clock and making its plastic cover rattle.

‘Have you seen Eugene?’ Adam asks.

The black leather strap between her buttocks has become twisted, and she feels along it with tired fingers.

‘It’s twisted,’ Adam says.

He doesn’t know what to do, hesitates, then tries to help her. He twists the strap twice, but notices that it’s tangled further down as well.

Her skin is hot and sweaty, he’s trembling and can feel how cold his fingers are as he follows the strap down between her buttocks.