The Sandman (47 page)

It’s Reidar Frost.

He’s wearing striped pyjama trousers and a white T-shirt. He’s got white stubble, and the look on his face is exhausted and brittle.

‘Hello, my name’s Saga Bauer, I work for the Security Police.’

‘Come in,’ he says in a voice that’s close to breaking.

She takes a couple of steps into the dimly lit hall with its broad staircase leading to the upper floor. Reidar moves backwards. His chin has started to tremble and he puts one hand to his mouth.

‘No, not Felicia, not—’

‘We’ve found her,’ Saga says quickly. ‘She’s alive, she’s going to be all right …’

‘I … I have to …’

‘She’s seriously ill,’ Saga explains. ‘Your daughter has advanced Legionnaires’ disease, but she’s going to be OK.’

‘She’s going to be OK,’ Reidar whispers. ‘I have to go, I have to see her.’

‘She’s being moved from intensive care to the infectious diseases unit at seven o’clock.’

He looks at her with tears trickling down his cheeks.

‘Then I’ve got time to get dressed and wake Mikael and …’

Saga follows him through the rooms to the kitchen she saw through the window a few minutes before. The ceiling-light is casting a pleasant glow over the table with the coffee cup on it.

The radio is on, playing gentle piano music.

‘We’ve been trying to call,’ she says. ‘But your phone—’

‘That’s my fault,’ Reidar says, wiping the tears from his cheeks. ‘I’ve had to start switching the phone off at night, I don’t know, so many crazy people keep calling with tip-offs, people who …’

‘I understand.’

‘Felicia’s alive,’ Reidar says tentatively.

‘Yes,’ Saga says.

His face cracks into a broad grin, and he looks at her with bloodshot eyes. It appears he’s going to ask her again, but he just shakes his head and smiles. He picks up a large pot of coffee from the black stove and pours a cup for Saga.

‘Some warm milk?’

‘No thanks,’ she says, taking the cup.

‘I’m just going to wake Mikael …’

He starts to walk towards the hall, but stops and turns back to look at her.

‘I have to know … Have you caught the Sandman?’ he asks. ‘The man Mikael calls the—’

‘He and Jurek are both dead,’ Saga says. ‘They were twin brothers.’

‘Twin brothers?’

‘Yes, they were working togeth—’

Suddenly the light in the ceiling goes out and the music on the radio goes quiet. It’s pitch-black and silent.

‘Power cut,’ Reidar mutters, trying the switch a couple of times. ‘I’ve got candles in the cupboard.’

‘Felicia was locked up in an old bomb shelter,’ Saga explains.

After a while the glow of the snow outside starts to penetrate the darkness of the kitchen, and Saga can see Reidar feeling his way towards a large cupboard.

‘Where was the shelter?’ he asks.

Saga hears a rattling sound as Reidar searches a drawer.

‘In the old quarry out in Rotebro,’ she replies.

Saga sees him stop, take a step back and turn round.

‘That’s where I’m from,’ he says slowly. ‘And I remember the twins. I don’t know why, but it must have been Jurek Walter and his brother … I played with them for a few weeks when I was little … but why, why have …’

He falls silent and just stands there, staring into the darkness.

‘I’m not sure there are any answers,’ she says.

Reidar finds some matches and lights a candle.

‘I lived fairly close to the quarry as a child,’ he says. ‘The twins were a year or so older than me. They were just sitting in the grass behind me one day when I was fishing for roach … in the river that runs into Edssjön …’

Reidar takes an empty wine bottle from under the sink, pushes the lit candle into it and sets it on the table.

‘They were a bit odd … But we started to play, and I went back home with them. I remember it was spring, and I was given an apple …’

The light from the candle spreads through the room, making the windows black and impenetrable.

‘They took me to the quarry,’ Reidar goes on, evidently remembering as he speaks. ‘It was out of bounds, but they’d found a hole in the fence and we’d meet to play there every evening. It was exciting, we would clamber up the mounds and roll down in the sand …’

Reidar falls silent.

‘What were you about to say?’

‘I’ve never thought about it, but one evening I heard them whispering to each other, then they just vanished … I rolled down and was about to go looking for them when the foreman suddenly appeared. He grabbed me by the arm and began shouting … you know, saying
he’d tell my parents and all that … And I was terrified, said I didn’t know it was out of bounds, that the boys had said we could play there … and he asked about the boys and I pointed to the house …’

Reidar lights another candle from the first. The light bounces off the walls and ceiling. A smell of wax spreads through the kitchen.

‘I never saw the twins again after that,’ he says, then leaves the kitchen to go and wake Mikael.

Saga is standing at the kitchen table drinking the strong coffee and looking at the reflections of the two candles in the double layer of glass in the window.

Joona’s so badly hurt, she thinks. He didn’t even hear her when she said Jurek was dead. He just repeated that Jurek was on his way to get Mikael.

Saga turns her weary body and feels the weight of her Glock 17 against her side, then moves away from the window and listens to the sounds of the large house.

Something makes her suddenly alert.

She takes a few steps towards the door, stops and imagines she can hear a faint metallic scraping sound.

It could be anything, a loose window ledge moving in the wind, a branch against a window.

She waits for a moment, then goes back to the table and drinks some coffee. She looks at the time, takes her phone out and calls Nils Åhlén on his mobile.

‘Nils Åhlén, Forensic Medicine Department,’ he answers after a few rings.

‘This is Saga Bauer,’ she says.

‘Good morning, good morning.’

A gust of cold air suddenly sweeps across the floor round Saga’s legs. She goes and stands with her back to the wall.

‘Have you looked at the body from the Söderleden Tunnel?’ she asks, as she sees the candlelight flicker.

‘Yes, I’m here now, they dragged me out of bed to deal with a body that …’

She sees the candle flicker again and hears Åhlén’s nasal voice echo off the tiled walls of the post-mortem room at the Karolinska Hospital.

‘The body suffered severe burns, it’s all cracked, pretty much charcoal, the heat shrivelled it up badly. The head’s missing, as well as both—’

‘But have you been able to identify him?’

‘I’ve only been here quarter of an hour, and it’s going to be several days before I can come up with any sort of reliable identification.’

‘Of course, but I was wondering—’

‘All I can say right now,’ Åhlén goes on, ‘is that this man was approximately twenty-five years old, and he’s—’

‘So it isn’t Jurek Walter?’

‘Jurek Walter? No, this … Did you think it was Jurek?’

There’s the sound of rapid footsteps upstairs. Saga looks up and sees the kitchen lamp quivering, and, caught in the candlelight, it casts a wavering shadow over the ceiling. She pulls her pistol from her holster and says in a low voice into the phone:

‘I’m at Reidar Frost’s house – you have to help me get an ambulance and police backup out here, as soon as possible.’

Reidar is walking through the silent rooms upstairs. His left hand is shielding the candle from draughts. The light flickers over walls and furniture, and its reflection is multiplied on the rows of black windows.

He imagines he can hear steps behind him, but when he stops and turns round all he can see is the shiny leather furniture and the big bookcase with its glass doors.

The door to the sitting room that he’s just walked through is a gaping black rectangle. It’s impossible to tell if anyone’s in there. He takes a step forward, and something glints in the shadows then disappears.

Reidar turns again, sees the light shimmer in the windows, and carries on. Hot wax is running over his fingers.

The floor creaks beneath him and unease is spreading through his body as he stops outside Mikael’s room.

He looks back down the long corridor with its rows of old portraits.

The floor is creaking slightly after his footsteps.

Reidar knocks cautiously on Mikael’s door, waits a few moments, then opens it.

‘Mikael?’ he asks into the dark room.

He holds the candle up towards the bed. The walls sway in the yellow light. The covers are bunched up, and are hanging over the edge, down onto the rug.

He goes in and looks round, but Mikael has vanished. Reidar feels beads of sweat break out on his forehead as he bends over to look under the bed.

Suddenly he hears rustling behind him and spins round so fast that the candle almost goes out.

The flame shrinks and turns a tremulous blue before growing again.

His heart is beating faster and his chest is starting to ache.

There’s no one there.

He walks slowly towards the doorway, trying to see something.

There’s a scraping, creaking sound from inside the wardrobe. Reidar looks at the closed doors, then walks over, hesitates, reaches out a hand and opens one of the doors.

Mikael is sitting huddled up among the clothes.

‘The Sandman’s here,’ he whispers, creeping further into the wardrobe.

‘It’s just a power cut,’ Reidar says. ‘We’re going—’

‘He’s here,’ Mikael whispers.

‘The Sandman’s dead,’ Reidar says, holding out his hand. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying? Felicia’s safe. She’s going to be fine, she’s getting the same treatment as you, we’re going to go and see her now—’

A scream rips through the walls, it’s muffled but sounds bestial, like the cry of a man in terrible pain.

‘Dad …’

Reidar pulls his son out of the wardrobe. Drops of wax fall to the floor. It’s completely silent again. What’s going on?

Mikael tries to curl up on the floor, but Reidar drags him to his feet.

Sweat is running down Reidar’s back.

They leave the bedroom together and start to walk down the corridor. A cold draught is blowing across the floor.

‘Wait,’ Reidar whispers as he hears a creak from the floor of the sitting room in front of them.

A slender figure emerges from the doorway at the far end of the corridor. It’s Jurek Walter. His eyes are shining in his butcher’s face, and the knife hanging in his right hand glints heavily.

Reidar backs away and loses his slippers. He throws the candle at Jurek. It goes out in midair and hits the ground.

They turn and run down the corridor without looking back. It’s dark
and Mikael runs into a chair, he almost falls and stumbles against the wall, his hand flailing over the wallpaper.

A picture crashes to the floor and the glass shatters, spreading splinters around the room.

They push open a heavy door and stumble into the old reception room.

Reidar has to stop, he’s coughing and fumbling for something to lean on. Rapid steps are approaching along the corridor.

‘Dad!’

‘Close the door, close the door!’ he pants.

Mikael slams the heavy door shut and turns the key in the lock three times. A moment later the handle is pushed down and the frame creaks. Mikael backs away across the parquet floor, staring at the door.

‘Have you got your phone?’ Reidar says, then coughs.

‘It’s still in my bedroom,’ Mikael whispers.

Pain is spreading through Reidar’s chest and down his left arm.

‘I have to rest,’ he says weakly, feeling his legs getting unsteady.

The heavy wood of the door creaks as Jurek thuds against it with his shoulder, but it doesn’t give way.

‘He can’t get in,’ Reidar whispers. ‘I just need a few seconds …’

‘Where’s your nitroglycerine spray? Dad?’

Reidar is sweating, and the pressure in his chest is so bad he can hardly speak.

‘Downstairs in the hall, in my coat …’

Saga sweeps the corridor with her pistol as she creeps towards the staircase in the hall.

She has to reach Mikael and Reidar, and get them out to the car.

The sky may actually have brightened up slightly, because it’s now possible to make out the pictures on the walls and the shapes of the furniture.

The adrenalin in her body makes her icily alert.

The sound of her footsteps vanishes as she walks over a rug and past the black grand piano. Something glints in the corner of her eye. She turns her head and sees a cello with its endpin extended.

The walls are clicking, as if the temperature outside has suddenly fallen several degrees.

Saga creeps along quickly, with her pistol aimed down at the floor. Slowly she moves her finger to the trigger, squeezing it carefully, past the first notch.

She stops mid-step and listens. The house is completely silent. The hall ahead of her is darker than the other rooms, its double doors almost closed.

Saga is moving forward when she hears a rushing sound behind her. She spins round quickly and sees snow that has slipped off the roof of the bay window sliding past the glass.

Her heart is thudding in her chest.

When she turns back towards the hall she sees a hand at the door. Someone’s skinny fingers are reaching round the edge of the door.

Saga aims her pistol at the door, ready to shoot through it, but suddenly there’s a terrible scream and the hand slides down and disappears, followed by a thud as something hits the floor, and both doors swing open.

A man is lying on the floor. One leg is twitching spasmodically.

She goes over and sees that it’s Wille Strandberg, the actor. He’s gasping and clutching his stomach.

Blood is bubbling out between his fingers.

He stares at Saga in confusion, then blinks rapidly.