Joona Linna Crime Series Books 1 and 2: The Hypnotist, The Nightmare. Lars Kepler

about Benjamin?”

      “Oh God,” she mumbles.

      “What’s happened?” Erik is almost screaming.

      “Someone’s taken him,” she replies. “I saw someone dragging Benjamin through the hall.”

      “Dragging? What do you mean, dragging?” A wild expression has taken over Erik’s face but he stops himself, runs a trembling hand over his mouth, and then kneels on the floor at her bedside. “Simone, what happened last night?”

      “I was woken during the night by a jab in my arm. I’d been injected. Somebody had given me—”

      “Where? Where were you injected?”

      She tries to push up the sleeve of her hospital gown; he helps her and finds a small red mark on her upper arm. When he feels the swelling around the dot with his fingertips, his face loses all its colour.

      “Somebody took Benjamin,” she says. “I couldn’t help him.”

      “We need to find out what you’ve been given,” he says, pressing the call button.

      “To hell with that, I don’t care. You have to find Benjamin.”

      “I will,” he says.

      A nurse comes in, is given brief instructions to run blood tests, then hurries out.

      Erik turns back to Simone. “Are you sure you saw someone dragging Benjamin down the hall?”

      “Yes,” she answers, in despair.

      “But you didn’t see who it was?”

      “He dragged Benjamin by the legs through the hall and out the door. I was lying on the floor … I couldn’t move.”

      The tears begin to flow once more. He wraps his arms around her, and she sobs against his chest, exhausted and desperate, her body shaking. When she has calmed down a little, she pushes him gently away.

      “Erik,” she says. “You have to find Benjamin.”

      “Yes,” he says, and stumbles from the room.

      A nurse takes his place. Simone closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to watch as four small containers fill with her blood.

       42

       saturday, december 12: morning

      Erik heads for his office in the hospital, thinking about the journey in the ambulance that morning, after he had found Simone on the floor with virtually no pulse. The rapid trip through the bright city, the rush-hour traffic giving way to the blaring siren of the ambulance. Simone’s stomach being pumped, the efficiency of the female doctor, her calm, speedy actions. The oxygen, the dark screen showing the irregular rhythm of the heart.

      In the corridor, Erik checks his mobile phone and realises it is turned off. He stops and listens to all his messages. Yesterday a police officer named Roland Svensson called four times to offer police protection. There is no message from Benjamin or from anyone who had anything to do with his disappearance.

      He calls Aida, and feels a chilling wave of panic as her high voice, suffused with fear, tells him she has absolutely no idea where Benjamin might be.

      “Could he have gone to that place in Tensta?”

      “No,” she replies.

      Erik calls David, Benjamin’s oldest friend from childhood. David’s mother answers. When she says she hasn’t seen Benjamin for several days, he simply cuts off the conversation in the middle of her flow of words.

      He calls the path lab to check on their analysis, but they can’t tell him anything yet; Simone’s blood samples have only just arrived.

      “I’ll hang on,” he says.

      He can hear them working, and after a while they report that Simone was injected with “something containing alfentanil.”

      “Alfentanil? The anaesthetic?”

      “Somebody must have got hold of it, either from a hospital or a veterinary surgery. We don’t use it here much, it’s so bloody addictive. But it looks as if your wife was incredibly lucky.”

      “What do you mean?” asks Erik.

      “She’s still alive.”

      Erik returns to Simone’s room to go through everything one more time but sees that she has fallen asleep. Her lips are cracked and sore after having her stomach pumped.

      His phone rings in his pocket, and he moves into the corridor before answering. “Yes?”

      “It’s Linnea at reception, Dr Bark. You’ve got a visitor.”

      It takes a few seconds for Erik to realise that the woman means reception here at the hospital, in the neurosurgical unit, and that she is the Linnea who has worked at the reception desk for four years.

      “Dr Bark?” she asks tentatively.

      “A visitor? Who is it?”

      “Joona Linna,” she replies.

      Erik stands in the corridor, waiting for Joona, his mind racing. He thinks about his voicemail messages; Roland Svensson called again and again to offer him police protection. Has somebody threatened me? Erik asks himself; a chill runs through him as he realises how unusual it is for a detective from the National CID to come and see him in person rather than contacting him by phone.

      He wanders into the cafeteria, where a platter of cold cuts and bread has been left for the taking. A feeling of nausea twists and turns inside his body. His hands shake as he pours water into a scratched glass.

      Joona has come to tell me they’ve found Benjamin’s body, he thinks. That’s why he’s here in person. He’s going to ask me to sit down; then he’s going to tell me Benjamin is dead.

      Terrifying images flash through his mind with increasing speed: Benjamin’s body in a ditch beside the motorway, or in a black rubbish bag in some forest, washed up on a muddy shore.

      “Coffee?”

      “What?”

      “Would you like some coffee?”

      A young woman with shining blonde hair is standing next to the coffee machine, holding up a steaming pot. She looks inquiringly at him, and he realises he holds an empty cup in his hand. As he shakes his head, Joona Linna walks into the room.

      “Let’s sit down,” says Joona. He wears a troubled expression.

      Erik nods, and they sit down at a table by the wall. Joona fidgets with the salt shaker and whispers something.

      “What?” asks Erik.

      “We’ve been trying to reach you.”

      “I didn’t answer my phone yesterday,” says Erik faintly.

      “Erik, I’m sorry to inform you that Josef Ek has run away from the hospital.”

       “What?”

      “You’re entitled to police protection.”

      Erik’s mouth begins to tremble, and his eyes fill with tears.

      “Was that what you came to tell me? That Josef has run away?”

      “Yes.”

      Erik is so relieved that he would like to lie down on the floor and simply sleep. He quickly wipes the tears from his eyes. “When did this happen?”

      “Last night. He killed a nurse, stole a car, and seriously injured its driver,” Joona says heavily.

      Erik nods several times as his thoughts rapidly make new connections. Absolute terror overwhelms the relief of a moment ago. “He came to our