Ларс Кеплер - Stalker

‘But the fingerprint match is one hundred per cent.’

Joona hears Erik walk up and down, it sounds as though he’s walking across a wooden floor.

‘So everything points at me,’ he says in a low voice.

‘Have you got a picture of Nestor?’

Erik tells him how to log into the medical records of the Psychology Clinic before they end the call. Joona puts his pistol and jacket on, then goes down to reception to get a printout of Nestor’s picture before leaving the hotel room again.

He walks past his hire-car and turns into the much narrower Frejgatan.

Outside one of the doorways stands an old Volvo, the sort with no ignition lock. Joona looks round quickly. The street is completely deserted. He takes a step back, then kicks in the rear side-window.

The alarm of a car further down the street goes off.

Joona opens the front door from the inside, moves the seat back, pulls his screwdriver out of his pocket, prises off the cover around the ignition and loosens the panels on the steering column. He leans over and inserts the screwdriver into the upper part of the column, and carefully breaks the steering lock.

Quickly he pulls on a pair of gloves, gets in the driving seat, loosens the red cables on the ignition cylinder and peels back their plastic covering. As soon as he twists the ends together music starts to play on the radio and the inside light comes on. He shuts the door, pulls out the brown wires and puts them together, and the engine starts.

The streets aren’t yet full of cars as he drives out to Huddinge. A plastic rosary hangs off the rear-view mirror. There are already lorries on the road, but the commuters are still drinking coffee in their homes.

In Huddinge he drives past the imposing prison building and carries on south, pulls on to a track leading into the forest, turns the car round, parks, then starts walking back towards Stockholm.

Joona Linna gets out of the taxi on Surbrunnsgatan, pays and walks across the street to his grey hire-car. The engine starts with a gentle hum, he leans back in the leather seat and pulls away from the kerb.

When he reaches Huddinge Prison he parks right in front of the entrance, next to a metal fence, and calls Erik’s number.

‘How are you getting on?’ he asks.

‘OK, but I’m starting to get hungry.’

‘I’ve changed my SIM-card, so you can tell me where you are now.’

‘Behind St Mark’s Church, outside the wall. There’s a pet cemetery in the woods. I’m hiding in a red wooden shed.

‘That’s fairly close to the police raid on Nestor’s flat, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I heard the ambulance last night,’ Erik says quietly.

‘I’ll bring Rocky out to you an hour from now,’ Joona says, glancing up at the imposing edifice of the prison.

He puts his pistol and mobile in the glove-compartment, leaves the key in the ignition and then gets out of the car and walks in through the tall pillars.

He buys three sandwiches at the kiosk, asks for a bag, and then goes over to say why he’s there.

After going through the usual security procedures Joona is shown inside the prison. The same prison officer as before is standing waiting for him.

Joona notes that Arne has a telescopic baton from Bonowi. It’s made of sprung steel, and designed to hit the muscles in the upper arms and thighs.

His name-badge sits slightly crookedly on his pilled Nato sweater. His handcuffs are dangling from his belt at the base of his broad back.

In the lift Arne takes off his glasses and polishes them on his sweater.

‘How’s the fishing?’ Joona asks.

‘I’m heading to Älvkarleby with my brother-in-law later this autumn.’

The interview room is one of the monitored rooms, in which one wall consists of a pane of glass, making it possible for people in the next room to observe everything going on inside.

Joona sits down on a chair and waits with both hands resting on the tabletop until he hears voices approaching along the corridor.

‘He’s called the naked chef because he was naked when he started,’ the duty officer is saying as the door opens and Rocky is led into the room.

‘No,’ Arne says, ‘that’s not right...’

‘My wife and I saw Jamie Oliver at the book fair in Gothenburg fifteen years ago. He was completely naked. Stood there making spaghetti alle vongole.’

‘My shoulders hurt,’ Rocky sighs.

‘Just keep quiet,’ Arne says, pushing him down on to a chair.

‘Give me a scribble and he’s all yours,’ the duty officer says as they leave the room.

Rocky looks paler today, and has dark patches under his eyes — he’s probably suffering from withdrawal. Arne Melander sits in the adjoining room watching them, but he can’t hear what they are saying. The soundproof glass wall is intended to protect the confidentiality of conversations between defence lawyers and their clients, but also to allow the police to question suspects without the contents of their conversations leaking out.

‘They say they can keep me locked up in this fucking place for six months,’ Rocky says in a gruff voice, rubbing under his nose.

‘You’ve talked about a preacher,’ Joona says, in a final attempt to avoid putting his plan into action.

‘I have problems with my memory after—’

‘I know,’ Joona interrupts. ‘But try to remember the preacher, you saw him kill a woman called Tina.’

‘That’s possible,’ Rocky says, his eyes narrowing.

‘He chopped off her arm with a machete. Do you remember that?’

‘I don’t remember anything,’ Rocky whispers.

‘Do you know someone called Nestor?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Look at this picture,’ Joona says, handing him the printout.

Rocky studies Nestor’s thin face carefully, then nods.

‘He was in Karsudden, I think...’

‘Did you know him?’

‘I don’t know, there were different sections.’

‘Are you prepared to meet Erik Maria Bark and let yourself be hypnotised?’

‘OK,’ Rocky says with a shrug.

‘The problem is that the prosecutor is refusing to let you out,’ Joona says slowly.

‘Erik can always come and hypnotise me here.’

‘That isn’t possible, because the police think Erik carried out the murders.’

‘Erik?’

‘But he’s as innocent as you were.’

‘Vanitas vanitatum,’ Rocky says with a broad smile.

‘Erik found Olivia, who...’

‘I know, I know, I go down on my knees and thank him every evening... But what do you expect me to do about it?’

‘We’re leaving together, you and me,’ Joona replies calmly. ‘I’ll take one of the guards hostage and all you have to do is come along with me.’

‘Hostage?’

‘We’ll be out in seven minutes, long before the police get here.’

Rocky looks at Joona, then at Arne sitting behind the glass.

‘I’ll do it if I can have my wraps back,’ Rocky says, leaning back and stretching his legs.

‘What sort of heroin was it?’ Joona asks.

‘White, from Nimroz... but Kandahar would do fine.’

‘I’ll sort it,’ Joona says, taking a flattened roll of duct tape from his pocket.

With his eyes half-closed, Rocky watches the former police officer wrap the heavy-duty tape round his hands.

‘I’m sure you know what you’re doing,’ Rocky says.

‘Bring the bag of sandwiches,’ Joona says, pressing the button on the intercom to indicate that the meeting is over.

A few moments later Arne opens the door and lets Joona out into the corridor. The idea is for him to lead Joona out of the prison, then take Rocky back to his cell.

While the prison officer locks Rocky inside the interview room, Joona goes over to the other door where the bottom of the skirting board has come loose. He leans down. Slips his fingers into the gap and pulls upwards. The screws spring free from the concrete wall along with their brown plastic rawlplugs.