‘I remember,’ Torgny says. ‘I know what happened.’
Jan glances sideways. He senses that the Secret Avenger is standing somewhere behind him.
‘Christer stabbed Niklas and Peter to death,’ Torgny goes on quietly. ‘In their tent.’
Jan stares at him.
Torgny raises his voice slightly and begins to speak more quickly. ‘They’d gone camping during the last week of the school year. I wasn’t with them so I don’t know everything, but there was some sort of quarrel. Peter started it; he always wanted to push people, try to break them. Christer couldn’t handle it... In the end he snapped, and he had a knife with him. He killed Niklas and Peter while they were asleep, then Christer took off through the forest and ran straight in front of a car.’
Jan shakes his head. ‘It wasn’t Christer Vilhelmsson who killed them. It was...’
‘It was Christer,’ Torgny insists. ‘He always hung around with us, but he got picked on the whole time. He was right at the bottom of the pecking order.’
‘I was at the bottom of the pecking order,’ Jan says.
‘No.’ Torgny shakes his head. ‘You were nothing to us. You just happened to get in the way.’
Jan opens his mouth to speak, but suddenly turns around. The Secret Avenger has disappeared.
Torgny is also looking around the shop. ‘Filip? Where’s Filip?’ he asks.
Jan lets go of the axe and backs away from the counter. He bumps into someone, another customer, but he doesn’t stop. He breaks into a run.
Out into the autumn chill. There are more people on the streets now, with unfamiliar faces.
Jan spots his Volvo as it pulls out of its parking space. He can see the Secret Avenger sitting behind the wheel, and a little head is sticking up on the seat beside him. A five-year-old boy.
Jan picks up speed. He races across the road, shouting and waving, but the Secret Avenger doesn’t even glance in his direction. The car moves out into the traffic and away from Jan.
‘Rössel!’
The child in the passenger seat seems to hear Jan’s shout; he turns his head and looks back, but the car doesn’t stop.
Jan knows where the Secret Avenger is heading: to the bunker by the lake. He is taking the boy to the room with the concrete walls, and he is going to lock him up inside it. Not for two days this time, but for much longer. Weeks, months, perhaps for ever. This was what Jan had fantasized about, wasn’t it? The final revenge on the Gang of Four: stealing away one of their children.
‘Rössel!’ he yells. ‘Stop!’
People are looking at him, but he doesn’t care. He runs along the pavement as fast as he can. He sees the Secret Avenger slow down and stop, but only for a red light. The Volvo is indicating right; soon it will turn off and disappear for ever with Torgny’s son. Without a trace.
There is nothing Jan can do, and now he is regretting everything. Regretting everything he has been fantasizing about for so long. He closes his eyes, with just one thought in his head: wrong choice.
54
Jan is driving the car, looking out at the motorway through the windscreen. He has fantasized about one route through the night, but he has made a different choice. He will not go back to Nordbro with Rössel, he will not go and see Torgny, he will not take away his son.
It was a fantasy that he allowed to play out to its conclusion, but all desire for revenge has left him now. He knows that every violent fantasy ends in the same way when it becomes reality: with fear and regret and loneliness.
He and Rössel have been travelling along the motorway for almost an hour, and they have reached the suburbs of Gothenburg. Rössel has directed him here, and when Jan chose the route the razor was removed from his throat.
‘I knew you would make this choice,’ Rössel says. He is still sitting in the back seat like a king; then he leans forward. ‘We’re on the right road. We’re going out into the forest... we’re going to find a grave there. That’s what I promised.’
‘Yes,’ Jan says. ‘But what about afterwards? Are you going back to the hospital?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘I mean, there are psychologists at St Patricia’s, aren’t there? They can help you.’
Rössel bursts out laughing. ‘Psychologists,’ he says, sounding as if he is talking about vermin. ‘Psychologists want answers they can’t have. They ask about my childhood, whether there’s a history of mental illness in the family... They want to find a good reason why I used to travel around with my caravan in the summer picking up teenagers, but there are no reasons. The world is incomprehensible... So do you know why I did it?’
‘No,’ says Jan. ‘And I don’t want to...’
‘I took them because I was evil, of course,’ Rössel goes on. ‘Because I am the son of Satan, and I want to be the master of life and death... Or maybe it was just because the ones I chose were defenceless and drunk, while I was strong and sober. Or then again, maybe I’m innocent, who knows? Only time will tell.’
Jan wants to stop this, and looks in the rear-view mirror. ‘Were you ever in the forests around Nordbro?’ he asks. ‘Did you ever camp up there?’
‘Nordbro? No, I never went that far north.’
Jan wonders if Rössel is lying. Probably not. Perhaps the truth lies in the simple answer that came from Jan’s subconscious, put into words by a fantasy figure; perhaps one member of the Gang of Four killed two of the others.
The world is incomprehensible, and dark. So Jan keeps on driving, his hands gripping the wheel. But the petrol gauge is dipping into the red zone — he didn’t think of this before they set off. He sees a Statoil sign beside the motorway, and points to it. ‘We need petrol.’
There is no reply from the back seat. When he looks in the mirror he sees that Rössel is leaning back with his eyes closed; the razor is beside him, and he has one hand on the tear-gas canister.
Jan turns off for the service station, slowly pulls in between two HGVs and stops by a pump under the stark neon light.
He takes his credit card from his wallet and steps out into the cold. As he moves away from the car he feels the plastic loops pressing against his stomach. The restraints he took from Carl and hid under his jumper — they’re still there. Would he use them on Rössel if he got the chance?
And if a patrol car slid into the petrol station now, would Jan alert the police? If he did, Rössel would be taken into custody and Jan would be free.
But Lilian’s brother would never be found.
And that is why they are here.
Jan unhooks the nozzle and tries to think, glancing into the car every few seconds. Rössel’s head and face are hidden by the roof of the car, but he can see the body in its grey trousers on the back seat. It is completely motionless. Has Rössel really fallen asleep?
He carries on filling up the car and looks around. The ranks of shiny petrol pumps are standing to attention in the neon light, and a short distance away a lorry is moving off with a muted hissing sound.
The pump clicks. The tank is full, and Jan replaces the nozzle.
Another quick glance into the car — but the back seat is empty.
Rössel is gone, along with the razor and the tear gas.
Jan looks around. The parking area is deserted. There isn’t a soul in sight, but there are plenty of HGVs ten or twelve metres away, parked so close together that they form a labyrinth on the tarmac.
Has Rössel sneaked in between them?
Jan leaves the car and moves cautiously towards the trucks. He crouches down and tries to look underneath them, but he can’t see any grey trousers moving on the other side.