The Disappeared (46 page)

‘Almost everyone can,’ said Thea.

Still terrified. Her legs gave way, and she had to sit down.

‘You keep Johan out of this! Do you hear me?’

Peder had to sit down as well. His head was spinning. His anxiety over Jimmy faded away for a moment. Day after day, they had followed up one lead after another. Every time those leads had pointed to Thea. Now he was sitting on her floor, and he had no idea how he was ever going to get up.

‘There’s just one thing I want to know.’

His heart was beating so hard it was almost chafing against his ribs.

‘What happened to Jimmy?’

Thea clutched the arms of her chair.

‘Johan has nothing to do with his disappearance.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

He ought to call Alex and Fredrika. Tell them what he had just found out: that the great writer was perfectly capable of speaking after all. That her son was a highly sensitive issue, and that she was obviously ready to sacrifice anything for him. Even the protection that her silence had provided all these years.

She cleared her throat quietly several times, gave a dry cough. For a moment Peder thought her voice might let her down.

In that case she was going to have to write.

‘He happened to overhear a conversation he shouldn’t have heard.’

Peder could see that she was hesitating, choosing her words with great care. He raised one finger, and saw that it was trembling.

‘Listen to me, Thea. Don’t you dare lie. I’m warning you. Don’t.’

She shook her head.

‘I’m not lying. That’s what happened. He was standing outside the window. We didn’t hear him at first, but then he called out. As if he’d suddenly been frightened. We had quite a heated discussion.’

‘We? Who’s we? Who else was here?’

Her eyes filled with tears.

‘I can’t. Forgive me.’

‘Of course you can,’ he hissed, and Peder regained the upper hand.

‘Was it your son Johan?’

Thea’s eyes opened wide.

‘No, absolutely not. He’s never been here. Never.’

‘So who was it, then?’

Another dramatic pause. Then the words that froze Peder’s blood.

‘Morgan Axberger.’

Peder slowly got to his feet. Axberger, that rich bastard who had been on the periphery of the inquiry all along, the man nobody had dared to pinpoint as a suspect.

‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know. I just saw Morgan take your brother away. He hasn’t been in touch since. I’m so very sorry.’

Sorry for what? Peder felt sick with anxiety.

‘What were you talking about when Jimmy overheard?’

‘The past.’

There was no time. He really wanted to hear the full story from Thea, but there was no time right now. Jimmy was the most important thing. Where the hell was he?

‘OK, if you don’t
know
what happened to Jimmy, what do you
think
happened?’

Thea hid her face in her hands and wept.

‘I think something very bad could have happened to your brother. If he’s still alive, you need to find him as a matter of urgency. Because Morgan Axberger has never shown any human being, living or dead, one iota of mercy.’

No mercy. The words sank in, acquired new meaning. If Jimmy was dead . . .

Then I will show no mercy.

‘Where will I find him? Where is Morgan Axberger right now? The police have been to his office, but he wasn’t there.’

‘A few years ago, Axberger’s company purchased a new property. It’s on the island of Storholmen, just outside Lidingö. Try there; I can’t imagine he’ll be hiding anywhere else.’

‘Can you give me any more details about where this place is?’

Thea’s expression softened; she looked as if she might even smile.

‘The company bought my parents’ old house. The Guardian Angels used to meet there now and again. Morgan said he bought it because he’d always loved the summerhouse in the garden.’

The key interview. Not the last, but the most important. Alex Recht took several deep breaths. If they didn’t manage to get the final elements of the story out of Valter Lund, they were lost.

Peder wasn’t answering his mobile. His wife didn’t know where he was. Nor did his mother.

‘What’s happening with Jimmy?’ she has asked when Alex called her. ‘Have you found him?’

Yet another person who was missing a loved one. Yet another person wanting to know that Alex was doing everything in his power to find them.

Alex thought about the digger he had sent back to Midsommarkransen. There was no suggestion of excavating by hand this time. They had to work faster. With every passing moment, Alex became more and more convinced that Fredrika was right. Jimmy was waiting for them, deep in the ground. Dead and buried.

And so the circle would be closed. Alex would have given another family a grave to visit.

The tears came from nowhere, threatening to well up. Alex held his breath and counted silently to ten. Fredrika was already waiting in the interview room with Valter Lund. God knows how she was managing to hold up so well after everything that had happened.

At that moment, Diana rang. His first impulse was to reject the call, but he pulled himself together and answered.

‘This isn’t a good time,’ he said.

‘It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to hear your voice.’

And I wanted to hear yours.

Could it really be so simple? Was Diana his new woman? Was that what she wanted?

Is that what I want?

Fredrika opened the door of the interview room and stepped out into the corridor.

‘Are you coming?’

You needed a boat to get to Storholmen. Peder was standing on the jetty, gazing out towards Stockholm’s stunningly beautiful archipelago. Little islands as far as the eye could see. Every single one with its own secrets. Inhabited by all kinds of people.

On this terrible day, the entire landscape was bathed in golden sunshine, like a fairy tale. It was, in every respect, a day lovely enough to die on.

A young man came down onto the jetty, carrying a bag in each hand.

‘Are you looking for something?’

Peder shaded his eyes with his hand and looked over towards the islands.

‘I need a lift to Storholmen.’

The young man nodded.

‘You can come with me. Are you going to visit someone?’

‘Yes.’

Peder helped to load the bags, and the other man undid the huge padlock securing the boat to the jetty. He dropped the chain on the floor.

‘Lifejacket.’

He handed Peder a large, red lifejacket. Peder put it on and fastened the plastic straps tightly across his stomach.

‘I know it’s only a short run over to Storholmen, but you can never be too careful,’ said his companion.

‘Very true,’ Peder replied.

Time and space became one. He heard what the other man said, and answered automatically. Tried to look pleasant. Normal. But beneath the surface, everything was chaos. He couldn’t manage a single logical thought.

The engine kicked into life with a roar.

‘Couldn’t they come and pick you up?’

Peder sat in the prow and watched the waters part ahead of the boat as they moved away from the jetty.

‘There was a misunderstanding. They thought I was coming earlier.’

He didn’t even consider telling the truth. That he was a hunter, tracking down his quarry.

‘But they’ll bring you back, won’t they?’

The man was smiling at the helm.

‘I’m sure they will.’

Peder had no idea how he would get back. The question was of minor importance. Finding his brother was the only thing that mattered.

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.

Thea Aldrin had explained where her parents’ house was. Finding his way there wouldn’t be a problem. She had started talking about an old film; she seemed to assume he knew what she meant. Peder couldn’t recall having seen a film that had been made in a summerhouse. Was it the one Torbjörn Ross had mentioned?

The boat trip took less than ten minutes.

‘I’ll drop you at the big jetty up ahead, if that’s OK.’

The young man pointed.

‘That’s great.’

Peder braced himself and jumped ashore as they drew near the jetty.

‘Thanks for the lift.’

‘No problem.’

The other man raised a hand in a hesitant farewell.

‘You don’t want me to wait for you?’

‘No, I’ll be a while.’

Peder pushed his hands deep in his pockets; his companion still looked concerned.

‘OK, if you’re sure.’

He put the boat in reverse and pulled away from the jetty.

Peder watched it as it sped across the water. Then he turned away and set off along the path leading to the island.

62

‘Who is Valter Lund?’

Alex Recht didn’t waste any time on inessentials, but asked the most important question first. Fredrika sat in silence by his side. He had no doubt that she had just as many questions as he did.

The well-known businessman who had been calling himself Valter Lund for almost three decades, but whose real name was Johan Aldrin, slumped in his chair.

‘A guy from Gol in Norway. We enlisted on the same ship in Norway in 1980. Annie, her name was. The ship, I mean. A huge car ferry. We were going to go around the world, cross every ocean.’

‘Did you already know each other?’ Fredrika asked.

‘No, definitely not. It was sheer coincidence. We were the same age, and we were both new recruits, so they put us in a cabin together. He slept in the top bunk and I was below.’

‘You weren’t particularly alike, either in appearance or personality.’

Fredrika looked meaningfully at Valter Lund’s old passport photograph.

‘No, but as time went by that was less important. Although I still dye my hair regularly. It’s actually quite fair.’

Alex looked at his brown hair. It looked completely natural.

‘Where is Valter Lund now?’

‘He’s dead.’

‘What happened?’

‘He died in an accident on board.’ Johan squirmed. ‘We were working a night shift. He had a drink problem. I’d tried to bring it to the attention of the officers in charge, but they chose to ignore it. We were cheap labour, and as long as he did his job, they didn’t think they needed to bother. But I knew it was only a matter of time before he injured himself or someone else. He was always in the way – in his own way, or someone else’s. He was clumsy and inept. It wasn’t just the booze – that was how he was.’

Johan grabbed the passport photograph from Fredrika.

‘He slipped and hit the back of his neck on the sharp fluke of an anchor that was lying on the deck; it belonged to one of the lifeboats. It was pouring with rain that night, and he was just too drunk to cope with the slippery deck.’

‘So he slipped and broke his neck?’

‘Worse than that. The fluke went right into the nape of his neck, just below his head. He was dead when I found him. There was nothing anyone could have done.’

‘What did you do?’ Alex asked.

He could picture the scene. Night, dark skies. Pouring rain and poor visibility. Not a good combination with booze, whatever your role on the ship.

‘I threw him overboard.’

Johan uttered the words without any hesitation, and folded his arms.

‘He wouldn’t be missed by a single person. And I desperately needed a new identity. So I threw him into the sea. The next day, we docked in Sydney. None of the crew noticed he was missing until the afternoon, when I woke up after the night shift. I said I’d heard him leave our cabin during the morning, but I didn’t know where he’d gone. Then I lied for the last time: I said he’d told me he’d love to live in Australia, and that he’d been thinking of leaving the ship when we arrived there. That would have been impossible if he hadn’t run away, because we were bound by unbreakable contracts.’

Johan shrugged.

‘Did they believe your story?’ Fredrika asked.

‘Why wouldn’t they? We left Sydney two days later; the captain was furious. He called Valter a traitor. He was never reported missing; everyone assumed I was right, and that he’d jumped ship in Sydney to make a fresh start in Australia.’

Slowly Alex put down the pen he was holding.

‘And it’s never occurred to you that what you did was wrong?’

‘Many times. If he’d had parents or anyone else who cared about him, I would have acted differently.’

‘He
did
have someone who cared about him,’ Fredrika said angrily. ‘An uncle in Gol, who has no other relatives. He still turns up at the police station every year to ask about his nephew.’

Johan stared at Fredrika for a long time.

‘That’s why you asked me if I’d seen my uncle lately.’

She didn’t answer, but gazed back at Johan Aldrin in silence. Who did he look like? His mother or his father? He had his mother’s big eyes, but the nose came from someone else. Or perhaps it was just chance.

‘Why was being Thea Aldrin’s son such a terrible thing? Why did you need a new identity?’

‘Ah. The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.’

Johan clasped his hands on the table, wondering how to go on.

‘Have you heard of
Mercury
and
Asteroid
?’

Both Fredrika and Alex gave a brief nod. They were well aware of the much talked about books.

‘Me too,’ said Johan. ‘The entire country was talking about them. Everyone was laughing behind my back at school, saying that my whore of a mother had written them. That she was sick in the head. I was so tired of all the crap. I’d been defending my mother ever since I was little. Always alone, often facing more than one opponent. In spite of my loyalty, she refused to answer my questions. She said I wouldn’t understand why my father had left us, that I was too young to cope with such a terrible story. Do you see?’

He looked at Fredrika and Alex.

‘She hinted that there was some “terrible story”, but she wouldn’t say any more. I mean, I’m sure you can work out what was going through my mind. Anyway. One day, I was up in the loft hunting for a suitcase my mother had asked me to bring down. She had many good points, but tidiness wasn’t one of them. The loft was a complete mess, with boxes and other stuff all over the place. By accident, I knocked over a small box that was perched on top of a bigger box in a corner. It was full of paper – manuscripts, I assumed. I started gathering them together as fast as I could. Her manuscripts were sacred. No one else was allowed to touch them, so I hurried. Until I happened to read a few lines on one of the pages.’