‘Do you remember if Samuel told you he got beaten up? About a year ago?’
Remember the details, Sofia.
Sofia thinks. ‘Yes, he said he’d been attacked somewhere near ?landsgatan –’
‘Close to Monument,’ Jeanette fills in. ‘He was beaten up in the Monument block. The same place he was later found hanged.’
‘Yes, maybe it is. I remember him saying that one of the men who attacked him had snakes tattooed on his arms.’
‘Not snakes. Spiderwebs.’ Jeanette tosses her empty cup in the bin. ‘The guy was a neo-Nazi in his teens, and in those circles it’s a status symbol to have spiderwebs on your elbows. It’s supposed to mean that you’ve killed someone, although in his case I seriously doubt that. But that’s not really relevant.’
Jeanette gets up and opens the window.
They can hear children playing in Kronoberg Park.
In her mind’s eye Sofia can see Gao mercilessly attacking Samuel, who had been far too badly hurt to put up any resistance. Samuel had staggered around and only made feeble attempts to shield himself from Gao’s kicks and punches.
Sofia looks out of the window and considers how the blood loss from his crushed eye eventually led to him losing consciousness. He must have realised that that was as good as dying.
The moment he passed out the insane creature facing him would jump on him and tear him to pieces. He had seen it happen back home in Sierra Leone, and knew this was a cat-and-mouse game with a predetermined outcome.
The phone on the desk rings, and Jeanette apologises before answering.
‘Sure, she’s sitting right next to me, we’ll be there as soon as we can.’
Jeanette hangs up and looks intently at Sofia.
‘The man with the spiderweb tattoos is Petter Christoffersson, and we’ve got him in the building. He’s being held for grievous bodily harm, and seems to think he can bargain with us by revealing something. He’s probably seen too many bad American films and thinks it works the same way here.’
Sofia’s head is spinning and she’s starting to sweat.
‘I was thinking you could come with me and listen to him. He says he’s got something to say about Samuel. He reckons he saw him the day before he was found dead. Outside McDonald’s at Medborgarplatsen, with a woman. Apparently he knows who the woman is, and …’ Jeanette falls silent. ‘Well, you get it.’
Sofia thinks how easily Gao dismembered the little boy they found by the side of the road out in Svartsj?landet.
While Jeanette had been visiting her, Gao had been smashing his skull to pieces with a hammer. Later they had thrown the fragments of bone away, along with the remnants of a roast chicken.
Lie. Make something up. Go on the offensive.
‘Well, I’m not sure that would be appropriate. I don’t know if it’s really allowed … But sure, I’ll come along.’
Sofia sees that Jeanette is watching her reaction carefully. It’s as if she’s testing her.
‘You’re right. It isn’t allowed. But you could sit outside and watch. Listen to what he has to say.’
They get up and go out into the corridor.
The interview room is on the floor below, and Jeanette shows Sofia into a small room alongside. They can see through a window into the interview room, where Petter Christoffersson is leaning back in a chair, seeming fairly relaxed. Sofia looks at his tattoos and remembers.
It’s him.
The last time she saw him he was wearing a T-shirt with two Swedish flags across the chest. He delivered the building material for the room she constructed behind the bookcase. Polystyrene, planks, nails, glue, a tarpaulin and duct tape.
How could she be the victim of such a ridiculous coincidence? She feels sweat trickling down her back.
‘One-way mirror.’ Jeanette points at the window. ‘You can see him, but he can’t see you.’
Sofia feels in the pocket of her coat, finds a paper napkin and wipes her clammy hands. She isn’t feeling well.
Her shoes are chafing, and her throat feels tight.
‘Are you OK, Sofia?’ Jeanette is looking at her.
‘I feel horribly ill all of a sudden. It feels like I’m going to be sick.’
Jeanette looks concerned. ‘Do you want to go back to my office?’
Sofia nods.
She goes back out into the corridor.
She’s made it.
Back in Jeanette’s office she goes over to the bookcase and almost immediately finds a thick folder labelled THORILDSPLAN – UNKNOWN. After a bit more searching she finds the others: SVARTSJ?LANDET – YURI KRYLOV and DANVIKSTULL – UNKNOWN.
She turns round and looks at the messy desk. Beside the phone is a stack of CDs, and when she picks them up she sees that they are recordings of interviews.
She looks through them without really registering what the labels say, but when she reaches the last disc she suddenly stiffens.
At first she thinks she’s seen it wrong, but when she checks again she finds a disc marked BENGT BERGMAN.
Quickly she looks for the stack of blank CDs that she assumes ought to be here somewhere, and finds it on top of the bookcase, next to a glass jar of rubber bands and paper clips.
She goes round the desk, sits down in front of the computer, then inserts the original disc and the blank one, and when the computer asks if she wants to copy the contents, she clicks yes.
The seconds grind past, and she thinks about how she and Gao drove Samuel’s body to Mikael’s building in the Monument block.
How they carried him up to the attic, and how their work united them as they strung the body up from the ceiling.
After less than two minutes the computer spits out both discs, and she puts the original back where she found it. She puts the copy in her handbag.
Sofia sits down and picks up a newspaper.
It had been Gao who found the acid, and emptied the bucket over Samuel’s face.
Jeanette comes back ten minutes later. Sofia is reading an old copy of Swedish Police.
‘Anything interesting?’ she wonders, looking thoughtful.
It’s as if Jeanette is looking at Sofia with a new awareness, and she feels her insecurity returning.
‘I was going to do the crossword,’ Sofia replies, ‘but I couldn’t find one, so I looked at the pictures instead. How did you get on with Spider-Man? Did you find out anything interesting?’
Jeanette is still looking thoughtful.
‘How long have you lived in Borgm?stargatan?’ she suddenly says, and Sofia starts.
‘Since ’95 … I’ve lived there thirteen years. God, time really does fly.’
‘Have you noticed anything odd while you’ve been there? Especially in the last six months?’
It’s like this is an interrogation and she’s suspected of something.
‘How do you mean, odd?’ Sofia gulps. ‘I mean, we’re talking about S?dermalm, with all that implies in terms of drunks, fights, weirdos talking to themselves, vandalised cars, and –’
‘Missing boys –’