Ларс Кеплер - Stalker

Joona barely reacts when Erik pulls his sleeve up, wipes the crook of his arm with a swab, looks for a vein and then injects a mixture of benzyl-penicillin and aminoglycoside.

‘Can you stand up?’ he asks as he puts a plaster where he stuck the needle.

Joona lifts his head slightly and coughs emptily. Erik helps him get up on one knee. A tin can rolls across the floor. Joona coughs again, points at the woman and tries to say something.

‘I can’t hear,’ Erik says.

‘Crina needs to be paid,’ Joona hisses, and stands up. ‘She’s... helped me.’

Erik nods and takes his wallet out. He gives the woman a five-hundred-kronor note, and she nods and smiles with her lips closed.

Erik opens the door and helps Joona down the steps. A bald man in a crumpled suit stands outside and holds the caravan door open for them.

‘Thanks,’ Erik says.

From the other direction a blond man in a black, shiny jacket is approaching. He’s hiding something behind his back.

Beside the next caravan stands a third man with a soot-stained saucepan in his hand. He’s wearing jeans and a denim waistcoat, and his bare arms are dark with tattoos.

‘You’ve got a nice car,’ he calls out with a grin.

Erik and Joona start to walk towards the road but the blond man blocks their path.

‘We need some rent,’ he says.

‘I’ve already paid,’ Erik says.

The bald man shouts into the caravan and the old woman comes to the door and holds up the money she has just been given. The man snatches the note, says something angrily, then spits at her.

‘We have to collect rent from everyone here,’ the blond man explains, showing the length of metal pipe in his hand.

Erik mutters in agreement and thinks it would be best just to try to get to the car, when Joona stops.

‘Give the money back to her,’ he says, pointing at the bald man.

‘I own the caravans,’ the blond man says. ‘I own all this, every mattress, every single fucking saucepan.’

‘I’m not talking to you,’ Joona says, and coughs into the crook of his arm.

‘It’s not worth it,’ Erik whispers, his heart pounding in his chest.

‘For fuck’s sake, we’ve got a deal with them,’ the tattooed man shouts.

‘Erik, get in the car,’ Joona says, and limps over to the men.

‘It costs more now,’ the blond man says.

‘I’ve got a bit more money,’ Erik says, taking his wallet out.

‘Don’t do it,’ Joona says.

Erik gives a few more notes to the blond man.

‘That’s not enough,’ he says.

‘Give it all back,’ Joona tells the blond man feebly.

‘It’s only money,’ Erik says quickly, and pulls out the last couple of notes.

‘Not to Crina,’ Joona says.

‘Run home and hide before we change our minds,’ the blond man grins, and points at them with the metal pipe.

Joona stands still with his arms wrapped round him, leaning forward slightly. He sees the blond man change his grip on the pipe and move to the side. The bald man takes off his jacket and hangs it over a plastic chair.

Joona slowly raises his head and looks the bald man in the eyes.

‘Give the money back to Crina,’ he repeats.

The bald man grins with surprise and steps sideways into the darkness. There’s a click as he unfolds the blade of a flick-knife.

‘I’m going to hurt you if you don’t drop the knife on the ground now,’ Joona says in his melancholic Finnish accent, and takes a step forward.

The bald man crouches down and moves aside, holding the knife in a classic hammer-grip, then reaches forward and takes a few trial stabs.

‘Be careful,’ Joona says, and coughs gently.

The knife is sharp, and glimmers in the weak light. Joona watches it with his eyes and tries to read the man’s irregular movements.

‘Do you want to die?’ the man grunts.

‘I may look slow,’ Joona says. ‘But I’m going to take that knife and break your arm at the elbow... and if you don’t lie still after that, I’ll puncture your right lung.’

‘Stab the Finn!’ the blond man shouts. ‘Stab the fucking Finn.’

‘And I’ll deal with you next, once I’ve got the knife,’ Joona says, stumbling into a rusty bicycle.

The bald man swings the knife to the side unexpectedly and the blade catches Joona across the back of his hand, which starts to bleed.

The blond man backs away with a forced smile.

Joona wipes the blood from his hand on his trousers. The bald man shouts something to the blond one. A baby starts crying in one of the caravans.

The blond man moves in behind Joona’s back; he notices, but is too weak to move.

When Joona glances over his shoulder the bald man mounts an attack. He aims low, towards Joona’s kidneys. The white blade jabs forward like a lizard’s tongue.

It happens fast, but everything is still there as a physical memory. Joona doesn’t think as he deflects the knife, grabs the man’s hand and closes his fingers over his cold knuckles.

Everything happens in rapid succession. Joona bends the man’s wrist, puts his other hand under his elbow, and jerks upward.

When the man’s arm breaks there’s a cracking sound, like standing on a twig beneath deep snow. Splinters of the radial bone pierce through ligaments and tissue, and a squirt of blood spatters a filthy bucket. The man sinks to his knees, screaming, and bends double on the ground.

‘Behind you!’ Erik shouts.

Joona turns. Suddenly giddy, he stumbles in a pool of water, stares up at the tops of the pines against the sky, but manages to keep his balance.

He spins the knife between his fingers, changes his grip and hides it behind his body as he approaches the blond man.

‘Leave me the fuck alone!’ the man shouts, and swipes at the air with the pipe.

Joona goes straight in, takes the next blow on his shoulder, cuts the man across the forehead, and rams his lower arm up into the man’s armpit, knocking his arm out its socket as the pipe falls to the ground.

The blond man gasps as he clutches the top of his arm, moves backwards, but can’t see anything for the blood running into his eyes. He stumbles over a pile of wood and remains there, lying on his back.

The man with the saucepan has disappeared into the darkness behind the camp. Joona walks over, leans down and takes the money from both men, panting as he does so.

He knocks on the door of the caravan, leaning against the frame to stop himself falling. Erik runs over and holds him up when he staggers.

‘Give the money to Crina,’ Joona says, and sits down on the step.

Erik opens the caravan door, sees the woman in the gloom at the far end, looks her in the eye and shows her where he hides the money under her carpet.

Joona slips down onto the grass with his head resting against one of the concrete blocks holding the caravan up.

The tattooed man comes back round the first caravan. He’s holding a shotgun and is approaching with long strides.

Erik realises that Joona is in no condition to run, so crawls beneath the caravan and tries to pull him in behind him.

‘Try to help,’ he whispers.

Joona kicks his legs and slowly slides in. The grit catches his jacket and they can hear steps nearby.

They hear the man with the gun open the caravan door and shout at the old woman. The floor above them thunders as he goes inside.

‘Come on,’ Erik says, crawling further in. He hits his head on a cable tray.

Joona shuffles after him, but catches his jacket on a strut. Erik emerges on the other side of the caravan and hides among some nettles.

Beneath the caravan Joona watches as the tattooed man steps down on to the ground again.

They hear voices and suddenly the man bends down, puts his hands on the ground and stares right at Joona as he lies under the caravan.