Lars Kepler
The Hypnotist
The first book in the Detective Inspector Joona Linna series, 2011
Translated from the Swedish by Ann Long
About the Publisher
In Greek mythology, the god Hypnos is a winged boy with poppy seeds in his hand. His name means sleep. He is the twin brother of Thanatos, death, and the son of night and darkness.
The term hypnosis was first used in its modern sense in 1843 by the Scottish surgeon James Braid. He used this term to describe a sleeplike state of both acute awareness and great receptiveness.
Even today, opinions vary with regard to the usefulness, reliability, and dangers of hypnosis. This lingering ambivalence is presumably owing to the fact that the techniques of hypnosis have been exploited by con men, stage performers, and secret services all over the world.
From a purely technical point of view, it is easy to place a person in a hypnotic state. The difficulty lies in controlling the course of events, guiding the patient, and interpreting and making use of the results. Only through considerable experience and skill is it possible to master deep hypnosis fully. There are only a handful of recognized doctors in the world who have truly mastered deep hypnosis.
Like fire, just like fire. Those were the first words the boy uttered under hypnosis. Despite life-threatening injuries- hundreds of knife wounds to his face, legs, torso, back, the soles of his feet, the back of his neck, and his head- the boy had been put into a state of deep hypnosis in an attempt to see what had happened with his own eyes.
Im trying to blink, he mumbled. I go into the kitchen, but it isnt right; theres a crackling noise between the chairs and a bright red fire is spreading across the floor.
Theyd thought he was dead when they found him among the other bodies in the terraced house. Hed lost a great deal of blood, gone into a state of shock, and hadnt regained consciousness until seven hours later. He was the only surviving witness.
Detective Joona Linna was certain that the boy would be able to provide valuable information, possibly even identify the killer.
But if the other circumstances had not been so exceptional, it would never even have occurred to anyone to turn to a hypnotist.
Chapter 1
tuesday, december 8: early morning
Erik Maria Bark is yanked reluctantly from his dream when the telephone rings. Before he is fully awake, he hears himself say with a smile, Balloons and streamers.
His heart is pounding from the sudden awakening. Erik has no idea what he meant by these words. The dream is completely gone, as if he had never had it.
He fumbles to find the ringing phone, creeping out of the bedroom with it and closing the door behind him to avoid waking Simone. A detective named Joona Linna asks if he is sufficiently awake to absorb important information. His thoughts are still tumbling down into the dark empty space after his dream as he listens.
Ive heard youre very skilled in the treatment of acute trauma, says Linna.
Yes, says Erik.
He swallows a painkiller as he listens. The detective explains that he needs to question a fifteen-year-old boy who has witnessed a double murder and been seriously injured himself. During the night he was moved from the neurological unit in Huddinge to the neurosurgical unit at Karolinska University Hospital in Solna.
Whats his condition? Erik asks.
The detective rapidly summarizes the patients status, concluding, He hasnt been stabilized. Hes in circulatory shock and unconscious.
Whos the doctor in charge? asks Erik.
Daniella Richards.
Shes extremely capable. Im sure she can-
She was the one who asked me to call you. She needs your help. Its urgent.
When Erik returns to the bedroom to get his clothes, Simone is lying on her back, looking at him with a strange, empty expression. A strip of light from the streetlamp is shining in between the blinds.
I didnt mean to wake you, he says softly.
Who was that? she asks.
Police a detective I didnt catch his name.
Whats it about?
I have to go to the hospital, he replies. They need some help with a boy.
What time is it, anyway? She looks at the alarm clock and closes her eyes. He notices the stripes on her freckled shoulders from the creased sheets.
Sleep now, Sixan, he whispers, calling her by her nickname.
Carrying his clothes from the room, Erik dresses quickly in the hall. He catches the flash of a shining blade of steel behind him and turns to see that his son has hung his ice skates on the handle of the front door so he wont forget them. Despite his hurry, Erik finds the protectors in the closet and slides them over the sharp blades.
Its three oclock in the morning when Erik gets into his car. Snow falls slowly from the black sky. There is not a breath of wind, and the heavy flakes settle sleepily on the empty street. He turns the key in the ignition, and the music pours in like a soft wave: Miles Davis, Kind of Blue.
He drives the short distance through the sleeping city, out of Luntmakargatan, along Sveavägen to Norrtull. He catches a glimpse of the waters of Brunnsviken, a large, dark opening behind the snowfall. He slows as he enters the enormous medical complex, manoeuvring between Astrid Lindgrens understaffed hospital and maternity unit, past the radiology and psychiatry departments, to park in his usual place outside the neurosurgical unit. There are only a few cars in the visitors car park. The glow of the streetlamps is reflected in the windows of the tall buildings, and blackbirds rustle through the branches of the trees in the darkness. Usually you hear the roar of the motorway from here, Erik thinks, but not at this time of night.
He inserts his pass card, keys in the six-digit code, enters the lobby, takes the lift to the fifth floor, and walks down the hall. The blue vinyl floors shine like ice, and the corridor smells of antiseptic. Only now does he become aware of his fatigue, following the sudden surge of adrenaline brought on by the call. It had been such a good sleep, he still felt a pleasant aftertaste.
He thinks over what the detective told him on the telephone: a boy is admitted to the hospital, bleeding from cuts all over his body, sweating; he doesnt want to lie down, is restless and extremely thirsty. An attempt is made to question him, but his condition rapidly deteriorates. His level of consciousness declines while at the same time his heart begins to race, and Daniella Richards, the doctor in charge, makes the correct decision not to let the police speak to the patient.
Two uniformed cops are standing outside the door of ward N18; Erik senses a certain unease flit across their faces as he approaches. Maybe theyre just tired, he thinks, as he stops in front of them and identifies himself. They glance at his ID, press a button, and the door swings open with a hum.
Daniella Richards is making notes on a chart when Erik walks in. As he greets her, he notices the tense lines around her mouth, the muted stress in her movements.
Have some coffee, she says.
Do we have time? asks Erik.
Ive got the bleed in the liver under control, she replies.
A man of about forty-five, dressed in jeans and a black jacket, is thumping the coffee machine. He has tousled blond hair, and his lips are serious, clamped firmly together. Erik thinks maybe this is Daniellas husband, Magnus. He has never met him; he has only seen a photograph in her office.
Is that your husband? he asks, waving his hand in the direction of the man.
What? She looks both amused and surprised.
I thought maybe Magnus had come with you.
No, she says, with a laugh.
I dont believe you, teases Erik, starting to walk toward the man. Im going to ask him.
Daniellas mobile phone rings and, still laughing, she flips it open, saying, Stop it, Erik, before answering, Daniella Richards. She listens but hears nothing. Hello? She waits a few seconds, then shrugs. Aloha! she says ironically and flips the phone shut.
Erik has walked over to the blond man. The coffee machine is whirring and hissing. Have some coffee, says the man, trying to hand Erik a mug.
No, thanks.
The man smiles, revealing small dimples in his cheeks, and takes a sip himself. Delicious, he says, trying once again to force a mug on Erik.
I dont want any.
The man takes another sip, studying Erik. Could I borrow your phone? he asks suddenly. If thats okay. I left mine in the car.
And now you want to borrow mine? Erik asks stiffly.
The blond man nods and looks at him with pale eyes as grey as polished granite.
You can borrow mine again, says Daniella, who has come up behind Erik.
He takes the phone, looks at it, then glances up at her. I promise youll get it back, he says.
Youre the only one whos using it anyway, she jokes.
He laughs and moves away.
He must be your husband, says Erik.
Well, a girl can dream, she says with a smile, glancing back at the lanky fellow.
Suddenly she looks very tired. Shes been rubbing her eyes; a smudge of silver-grey eyeliner smears her cheek.
Shall I have a look at the patient? asks Erik.
Please. She nods.
As Im here anyway, he hastens to add.
Erik, I really do want your opinion, Im not at all sure about this one.
Chapter 2
Daniella Richards opens the heavy door and he follows her into a warm recovery room leading off the operating theatre. A slender boy is lying on the bed. Despite his injuries, he has an attractive face. Two nurses work to dress his wounds: there are hundreds of them, cuts and stab wounds all over his body, on the soles of his feet, on his chest and stomach, on the back of his neck, on the top of his scalp, on his face.
His pulse is weak but very rapid, his lips are as grey as aluminium, he is sweating, and his eyes are tightly closed. His nose looks as if it is broken. Beneath the skin, a bleed is spreading like a dark cloud from his throat and down over his chest.
Daniella begins to run through the different stages in the boys treatment so far but is silenced by a sudden knock at the door. Its the blond man again; he waves to them through the glass pane.
Fine, says Erik. If he isnt Magnus, who the hell is that guy?
Daniella takes his arm and guides him from the recovery room. The blond man has returned to his post by the hissing coffee machine.
A large cappuccino, he says to Erik. You might need one before you meet the officer who was first on the scene.
Only now does Erik realize that the blond man is the detective who woke him up less than an hour ago. His drawl was not as noticeable on the telephone, or maybe Erik was just too sleepy to register it.
Why would I want to meet him?
So youll understand why I need to question-
Joona Linna falls silent as Daniellas mobile starts to ring. He takes it out of his pocket and glances at the display, ignoring her outstretched hand.