Presumably.
Im sorry, I dont know why Im in such a state about this, she says. Maybe because it isnt too late. Something could actually be done. I mean, it isnt often the case, but this time we could save a girl before she-
What do you want from me? asks Erik.
You have to come in and do what youre good at.
Erik pauses, then answers carefully. I can talk to the boy about whats happened when hes feeling a little better.
Thats not what I mean. I want you to hypnotize him, she says seriously.
No.
Its the only way.
I cant. I wont.
But theres nobody as good as you.
I dont even have permission to practise hypnosis at Karolinska.
I can arrange that.
Daniella, Erik says, Ive promised never to hypnotize anyone again.
Cant you just come in?
There is silence for a little while; then Erik asks, Is he conscious?
He soon will be.
He can hear the rushing sound of his own breathing through the telephone.
If you wont hypnotize the boy, Im going to let the police see him. She ends the call.
Erik stands there holding the receiver in his trembling hand. The weight behind his eyes is rolling in toward s his brain. He opens the drawer of the bedside table. The wooden box with the parrot and the native on it isnt there. He must have left it in the car.
The apartment is flooded with sunlight as he walks through to wake Benjamin.
The boy is sleeping with his mouth open. His face is pale and he looks exhausted, despite a full nights sleep.
Benni?
Benjamin opens his sleep-drenched eyes and looks at him as if he were a complete stranger, before he smiles the smile that has remained the same ever since he was born.
Its Tuesday. Time to wake up.
Benjamin sits up yawning, scratches his head, then looks at the mobile phone hanging around his neck. Its the first thing he does every morning: he checks whether hes missed any messages during the night. Erik takes out the yellow bag with a puma on it, which contains the factor concentrate desmopressin, acetyl spirit, sterile cannulas, compresses, surgical tape, painkillers.
Now or at breakfast?
Benjamin shrugs. Doesnt matter.
Now or at breakfast?
Benjamin shrugs. Doesnt matter.
Erik quickly swabs his sons skinny arm, turns it towards the light coming through the window, feels the softness of the muscle, taps the syringe, and carefully pushes the cannula beneath the skin. As the syringe slowly empties, Benjamin taps away at his cell phone with his free hand.
Shit, my batterys almost gone, he says, then lies back as his father holds a compress to his arm to stop any bleeding.
Gently Erik bends his sons legs backwards and forwards; then he exercises the slender knee joints and massages the feet and toes. How does it feel? he asks, keeping his eyes fixed on his sons face.
Benjamin grimaces. Same as usual.
Do you want a painkiller?
Benjamin shakes his head, and Erik suddenly flashes on the unconscious witness, the boy with all those knife wounds. Perhaps the murderer is looking for the older daughter right now.
Dad? What is it?
Erik meets Benjamins gaze. Ill drive you to school if you like, he says.
What for?
Chapter 13
The rush-hour traffic rumbles slowly along. Benjamin is sitting next to his father, the stop-and-go progress of the car making him feel drowsy. He gives a big yawn and feels a soft warmth still lingering in his body after the nights sleep. He thinks about the fact that his father is in a hurry but that he still takes the time to drive him to school. Benjamin smiles to himself. Its always been this way, he thinks: when Dads involved in something awful at the hospital, he gets worried that somethings going to happen to me.
Oh, no! Erik says suddenly. We forgot the ice skates.
Right.
Well go back.
Doesnt matter, says Benjamin.
Erik tries switching lanes, but another car stops him from cutting in. Forced back, he almost collides with a dust cart.
Weve got time to turn around and-
Just, like, forget the skates. I couldnt care less, says Benjamin, his voice rising.
Erik glances at him in surprise. I thought you liked skating.
Benjamin doesnt know what to say. He cant stand being interrogated, doesnt want to lie. He turns away to look out the window.
Dont you? asks Erik.
What?
Like skating?
Why would I? Benjamin mutters. Its boring.
We bought you brand new-
Benjamins only reply is a sigh.
Fine, says Erik. Forget the skates. He concentrates on the traffic for a moment. So skating is boring. Playing chess is boring. Watching TV is boring. What do you actually enjoy?
Dont know, Benjamin says. Nothing?
No.
Movies?
Sometimes.
Sometimes? Erik smiles.
Yes, replies Benjamin.
Ive seen you watch three or four movies in a night, says Erik cheerily.
So what?
Erik goes on, still smiling. I wonder how many movies you could get through if you really liked watching them. If you loved movies.
Give me a break. Despite himself, Benjamin smiles.
Maybe youd need two TVs, zipping through them all on fast forward. Erik laughs and places his hand on his sons knee. Benjamin allows it to remain there.
Suddenly they hear a muffled bang, and in the sky a pale blue star appears, with descending smoke-coloured points.
Funny time for fireworks, says Benjamin.
What? asks his father.
Look, says Benjamin, pointing.
A star of smoke hangs in the sky. For some reason, Benjamin can see Aida in front of him, and his stomach contracts at once; he feels warm inside. Last Friday they sat close together in silence on the sofa in her narrow living room out in Sundbyberg, watching the movie Elephant while her younger brother played with Pokémon cards on the floor, talking to himself.
As Erik is parking outside the school, Benjamin suddenly spots Aida. Shes standing on the other side of the fence waiting for him. When she catches sight of him she waves. Benjamin grabs his bag and, sliding out the car door, says, Bye, Dad. Thanks for the lift.
Love you, says Erik quietly.
Benjamin nods.
Want to watch a movie tonight? asks Erik.
Whatever.
Is that Aida? asks Erik.
Yes, says Benjamin, almost without making a sound.
Id like to say hello to her, says Erik, climbing out of the car.
What for?
They walk across to Aida. Benjamin hardly dares to look at her; he feels like a kid. He doesnt want her to think he needs his father to approve of her or anything. He doesnt care what his father thinks. Aida looks nervous; her eyes dart from son to father. Before Benjamin has time to say anything by way of explanation, Erik sticks out his hand.
Hi, there.
Aida shakes his hand warily. Benjamin sees his father take in her tattoos: theres a swastika on her throat, with a little Star of David next to it. Shes painted her eyes black, her hair is done up in two childish braids, and she wears a black leather jacket and a wide black net skirt.
Im Erik, Benjamins dad.
Aida.
Her voice is high and weak. Benjamin blushes and looks nervously at Aida, then down at the ground.
Are you a Nazi? asks Erik.
Are you? she retorts.
No.
Me neither, she says, briefly meeting his eyes.
Why have you got a-
No reason. Im nothing. Im just-
Benjamin breaks in, his heart pounding with embarrassment over his father. She was hanging out with these people a few years ago, he says loudly. But she thought they were idiots, and-
You dont need to explain, Aida interrupts, annoyed.
He doesnt speak for a moment.
I I just think its brave to admit when youve made a mistake, he says eventually.
Yes, but I would interpret it as an ongoing lack of insight not to have it removed, says Erik.
Just leave it! shouts Benjamin. You dont know anything about her!
Aida simply turns and walks away. Benjamin hurries after her.
Sorry, he pants. Dad can be so embarrassing.
Hes right, though, isnt he? she asks.
No, replies Benjamin feebly.
I think maybe he is, she says, half smiling as she takes his hand in hers.
Chapter 14
The Department of Forensic Medicine is located in a redbrick building in the middle of the huge campus of the Karolinska Institute. And inside the department is the glossy white and pale matt grey office of Nils Åhlén, Chief Medical Officer, aka The Needle.
After giving his name to a girl at reception, Joona Linna is allowed in.
The office is modern and expensive and comes with a designer label. The few chairs are made of brushed steel, with austere white leather seats, and the light comes from a large sheet of glass suspended above the desk.
The Needle shakes Joonas hand without getting up. He is wearing white aviator-framed glasses and a white turtleneck under his white lab coat. His face is clean-shaven and narrow, the grey hair is cropped, his lips are pale, his nose long and uneven.
Good morning, he says, in a hoarse voice.
On the wall hangs a faded colour photograph of The Needle and his colleagues: forensic pathologists, forensic chemists, forensic geneticists, and forensic dentists. They are all wearing white coats, and they all look happy. They are standing around a few dark fragments of bone on a bench; the caption beneath the picture states that this is a find from an excavation of ninth-century graves outside the trading settlement of Birka on the island of Björkö.
New picture, says Joona.
I have to stick photos up with tape, says The Needle discontentedly. In the old pathology department they had a picture sixty feet square.
Wow, replies Joona.
Painted by Peter Weiss.
The writer?
The Needle nods; the light from the desk lamp reflects off his aviators. Yes. He painted portraits of all the staff in the forties. Six months work, and he was paid six hundred kronor, or so Ive heard. My father is in the picture among the pathologists; hes down at the end. The Needle tilts his head to one side and returns to his computer. Im just working on the postmortem report from the Tumba murders, he says.
Yes?
The Needle peers at Joona. Carlos rang up to hassle me this morning.
Joona smiles sweetly. I know.
The Needle pushes his glasses back. I gather its important to establish the time of death of the different victims.
Yes, we need to know the order.
The Needle searches on the computer, his lips pursed. Its only a preliminary assessment, but-
The man died first?
Exactly. I based that purely on the body temperature, he says, pointing at the screen. Erixon says both locations, the locker room and the house, were roughly the same temperature, so my estimate was that the man died just over an hour before the other two.