The Man Who Watched Women (27 page)

‘What do you know about my women?' Sebastian asked; nothing in his voice gave away the fact that they were getting close to the reason for their visit.

‘There are a lot of them. Or there used to be, at any rate. I don't know what the situation is these days.'

Sebastian left his spot by the wall, pulled out the spare chair and sat down. Edward examined him carefully. He had grown older. Not only because of the years that had passed. Life had been hard on Sebastian. Edward thought he knew why. He wondered briefly whether to bring up the marriage to the German.

The daughter.

The tsunami.

The news which had brought such joy to his heart when he finally heard about it. It had taken quite some time. Sebastian's loss certainly hadn't featured heavily in the press. Edward had been forced to do a little detective work. Assemble the pieces of the jigsaw. Put two and two together.

It had begun when he had seen some names he thought he recognised in a list of those who were dead or missing. Swedes or those with Swedish connections. There, among the 543 names, were two that seemed somehow familiar: Lily Schwenk and Sabine Schwenk-Bergman. Then he had to go back through the newspaper archives. He found it when he reached 1998. A small notice stating that Sebastian Bergman, the world-famous profiler and author, had married Lily Schwenk. And a year or so after that, in a German newspaper, little Sabine. Sebastian's wife and daughter on a list of those dead or missing. At first he was pleased. Then, after a while, he began to feel disappointed. Cheated. Almost envious. As if he wished he could have been that great wave, the unstoppable force that took Sebastian's family away from him and left him broken. But it was still useful information, regardless of how he felt, and it would no doubt come in handy at some point, but not here and not now. Not at their first meeting. He wanted to find out what they knew. How far they had got. So Edward kept quiet. It was their turn to talk.

‘Four women have been murdered.'

Vanja saw the flash in Edward's eyes as he leaned forward across the table, suddenly interested.

‘Could I possibly ask for some details?'

Sebastian and Vanja exchanged a glance. Sebastian gave a brief nod, and Vanja opened the folder she had placed on the table. She took out a photograph of the first crime scene; it was a wide-angle shot that showed everything.

‘The nightdress, nylon stockings, a hidden supply of food, the victim raped while lying on her stomach,' she said, pushing the picture across to Hinde. He gave it a cursory glance then looked up with an expression of genuine surprise.

‘Someone is copying me.'

‘Imagine that,' Sebastian said in a measured tone of voice.

‘So that's why you wanted to talk to me. I was wondering.' The voice was filled with sudden insight, as if he had just been given the answer to a question he had pondered for a long time. A master class in total surprise. It would have fooled anybody. Even Vanja, if she hadn't been on her guard. But she was actively looking for signs that would confirm her intuition, and it was clear to her that Hinde hadn't been wondering any such thing. He knew. He had known all along. He was just playing games.

Hinde shook his head wearily. ‘Can't people come up with their own ideas anymore? That's the problem nowadays. There's no originality out there. They just copy those who were first. And best.'

‘This isn't an idea someone has come up with on their own. This is you.' Sebastian's voice had hardened.

An accusation.

Clear and unmistakeable.

Vanja wasn't sure if this was the right technique when it came to Hinde, but Sebastian knew him better than she did, so she swallowed her objections.

Edward looked up from the photograph on the table, total surprise in both his expression and his voice. ‘Me? I never leave the secure unit. I don't have any privileges. My freedom of movement is extremely limited.' He extended his arms, stretching the chains attached to his handcuffs to demonstrate how fettered he was. ‘I'm not even allowed to use the telephone.'

‘Someone is helping you.'

‘Really?' Edward leaned forward across the table, manifesting a clear and sincere interest. He had missed this, he realised. The discussion. The game. A statement from Sebastian which he could then counter. Choose to go along with his reasoning, question him, or try to divert his attention, go around in circles, challenge and be challenged. God, how he had missed it. Most people he met in the secure unit were sub-humans, free of any scrap of intelligence. In this room there was at least some intellectual fibre, something to chew on. It was wonderfully liberating.

He leaned back. ‘And how exactly might that happen, do you think?'

‘How do you choose them?' Sebastian opted to ignore the bait. He wasn't in the mood. Every time you answered a question, you lost control of the conversation. You were being led instead of leading. Sebastian couldn't allow that to happen. Not with Hinde.

‘Who?'

‘The women.'

Hinde sighed deeply and shook his head. Disappointed. The right thing for Sebastian would have been not to respond at all. To allow Hinde's ‘Who?' to lie unanswered between them. Their eyes would have met. As in a duel. Who would pick up the thread first? And how? Giving the right answer to the question immediately killed the excitement for Hinde. Killed the conversation. Killed his interest.

‘Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian … What's happened to you? Straight down to business. No finesse. No conversation. You ask, I am expected to answer. Whatever happened to a meeting of equals?'

‘We are not equals.'

Hinde sighed a fraction too loudly. Sebastian didn't even pick up on that. He couldn't bring himself to embark on a dialogue when prompted, measure his strength against Hinde's. Edward leaned back in his chair. Disappointed again.

‘You're boring me, Sebastian. You never used to do that. You were always more of a …' Hinde searched for the right words, found them after a while, ‘… stimulating challenge. What's happened to you?'

‘I got tired of playing games with psychopaths.'

Edward decided to let Sebastian go. This was too boring, too pointless. He was obviously not the same formidable opponent he had once been. Hinde turned to Sebastian's attractive colleague. Perhaps she would give him a little something back. She was young enough; it should be possible to lure her into his labyrinth.

‘Vanja, may I touch your hair?'

‘Pack it in!' Sebastian's words sounded like a whiplash. Hinde was taken aback. A strong reaction. Raised voice. It sounded like genuine anger. Interesting. So far Sebastian had seemed calm and decisive. Determined not to be drawn into any kind of discussion, not to give anything away. But this little outburst of rage was definitely worth probing further. Hinde tilted his head to one side and allowed his gaze to roam up and down Vanja's hair.

‘It looks so soft. I wouldn't mind betting that it smells good too.'

Vanja looked at the skinny man sitting opposite her, with his thin hair and his watery eyes. What did he want?

Fourteen years.

Locked up for fourteen years.

She assumed that Hinde hadn't met very many women during that time. One of the psychologists he saw might be a woman, perhaps a member of staff in the library. But the idea of touching one of them was out of the question. So she could understand his request. His longing. But how strong was it? Could she use it to her advantage? She decided to take things one step further, at least.

‘What do I get if I let you touch my hair?'

‘Pack it in,' Sebastian said again, still with that sharpness in his tone. ‘Don't talk to him.'

Without breaking eye contact with Vanja's challenging expression, Edward ran through the situation. This time there was something more than anger and impatience in Sebastian's voice; there was something protective. Were they lovers? She must be more than twenty years younger than him; the Sebastian Hinde had got to know in the late nineties had usually stuck to women his own age. But that could have changed, of course. However, there was nothing in their behaviour towards one another to suggest that they were in a relationship. On the contrary, Vanja exuded a certain coldness towards her colleague. There was no empathy in the looks she gave him, and her body language was negative. Perhaps they were just very good at hiding it? Worth finding out.

‘Are you sleeping together?'

‘We most certainly are not,' said Vanja.

‘That's got nothing to do with you,' Sebastian said at the same time.

Edward was satisfied. Sebastian's answer, an anti-response in order to retain control. Vanja's answer, direct and prompted by emotion. Genuine. They weren't sleeping together. So why that protective tone? Was there more to gain here? He spoke to Vanja again. ‘If you could just lean forward and lay your hair here …'

Edward turned his manacled hand upwards like a little bowl and squeezed his fingers together in a gesture which, when he did it, seemed almost obscene.

‘Will you answer my questions if I do it?' Vanja pushed back her chair as if she was about to get up.

‘For fuck's sake!' Sebastian spat out the words like an order. ‘Sit down!'

Definitely disturbed by the possible scenario. Time to raise the stakes.

‘Your hair, one answer. To any question you like.' Edward looked at her, his face shining with total honesty. ‘Your breast, three answers.'

Sebastian got up with such force that the chair tipped over as he hurled himself across the table and grabbed hold of Edward's upturned hand. He squeezed the shackled fingers. Hard. It hurt, but Edward showed nothing. Pain was nothing new for him. He could control pain. The joy he felt at having gained a stranglehold on Sebastian's emotions was more difficult to conceal.

‘Didn't you hear what I said?' Sebastian hissed. Close now. That dark glare just centimetres from Hinde's face. Hinde could feel his breath, feel the sweat on the palm of Sebastian's hand. He had won.

‘Yes, I heard.' Edward relaxed his hand, which made Sebastian loosen his grip. Hinde leaned back. Satisfied. A little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He met Sebastian's gaze with triumph in his eyes.

‘Even if you weren't playing, you just lost.'

Vanja and Sebastian walked through the secure unit in silence. Sebastian's outburst had put an end to the session with Hinde. Edward hadn't said another word; he had simply sat back with that contented little smile on his face. Refused to take his eyes off Sebastian. They were now heading for the exit, escorted by a guard.

‘I can look after myself.' Vanja broke the silence.

‘Really? It would be nice if you demonstrated that.' Sebastian didn't slow down. He was still furious. Edward was right. He had lost. No, Vanja had made him lose. That was no less annoying, but different. Just because she didn't understand that you never gave Hinde anything. You didn't even bargain with him. There was an ulterior motive behind every suggestion he made, a betrayal behind every promise. Perhaps it was Sebastian's own fault. He hadn't prepared her properly, that was very clear. And that annoyed him too.

‘I didn't get much of a chance, did I?' Vanja had practically broken into a run to keep up with Sebastian. ‘The great Sebastian Bergman rushed in to protect the defenceless little woman.'

They had reached the exit, a heavy steel door with a small window in the centre. No lock or handle on the inside. The guard accompanying them did his best to appear uninterested in their conversation as he knocked on the door. On the other side a face appeared at the window and scrutinised them closely to establish that they were entitled to leave the unit and that there was no kind of threat involved.

Sebastian turned to Vanja for the first time since they had left the interview room and Hinde. ‘Do you seriously think we would have found out anything if you'd let him touch your tits?'

‘Do you seriously think I would have let him touch me?'

The door buzzed and then opened. Sebastian and Vanja left the secure unit and continued along the corridor. Vanja didn't know what annoyed her the most. There was a great deal to choose from, all relating to Sebastian. There was the fact that he'd underestimated her, that he had used the word ‘tits' like some football hooligan, that he thought she needed protecting, that he was walking so bloody fast, that he had no confidence in her.

‘I was playing along.' She caught up with Sebastian again. ‘If you hadn't come charging in like some fucking knight in shining armour, it might have led somewhere.'

‘No, it wouldn't.'

‘How do you know? You jumped in straight away.'

‘You can't play along with Hinde.'

‘Why not?'

‘He's much cleverer than you.'

Vanja slowed down, let him go on ahead. She watched him go and decided not to bother with any kind of rank order; she would simply hate everything about Sebastian. End of story.