ERNE HEARS THE man’s words but doesn’t want to understand them. “Please repeat.”
“The target is empty.”
The words echo in Erne’s ears. The radiophone mouthpiece smells of dried spit, and Erne realizes his heart is pounding. “What about the tub?”
“There is no tub. The basement is full of junk.”
“What the hell—”
“At first glance, I’d say this isn’t the house we’re looking for.”
“But it has to be,” Erne says softly.
“We’ll take a look around the immediate vicinity,” the voice says over the radio.
“Roger.”
Erne lowers the radiophone to the table; his heart is beating as fast as a baby chick’s. The phone on the table rings again. Internal line. Another number appears on the screen of his mobile phone: Lönnqvist from the Police Board. “What the fuck is going on here?” Erne mutters, too distracted to answer either call.
“I think I know,” Rasmus says with a frown. He’s engrossed in his own phone.
“What now?”
“There’s a new video online . . . on Instagram this time.” Phone in hand, Rasmus walks over to Erne.
“What the hell is this?”
They see a dimly lit hospital bed with a beautiful dark-haired woman lying in it.
“Is that—”
“It’s Laura Helminen.”
A constant stream of new comments appears at the bottom of the screen.
“Is this live?” Erne asks in a hushed voice. The blare of the phones ringing in his office seems to be coming from somewhere in the distance.
“Yes . . . at malleusmaleficarum . . .”
“Someone’s transmitting a livestream from Helminen’s room. What happened to the security at the door, goddamn it?” Then Erne remembers the message Jessica sent him. Helminen has been feeding us lies.
He points at the figure at the bottom of the screen. “Are those . . . What’s that number?”
“The number of people watching right now.”
“What the hell . . . ?”
Tens of thousands of people are watching #malleusmaleficarum. There are hundreds of comments, most of them in English.
“The comments are responses to something she said at the beginning of the video.”
“Can you rewind—”
But at that instant a muscular man in a dark suit appears at the bottom of the screen. He stops next to the bed.
“That’s the guard—”
“Shh. Listen.”
Unfortunately, I’m going to have to confiscate your phone.
Why?
Orders. Where is it?
Over there, on the shelf.
The woman points directly at the camera, and the security guard turns around.
“Teo . . . ,” Erne whispers. He knows Teo from ministry gigs. Competent guy, even though Jessica thinks he’s a cocky asshole. Teo calmly takes a few steps toward the phone.
“What the hell?” Rasmus whispers.
It takes Erne a second to understand what he’s referring to. Laura is not lying in her bed anymore; she has crept up behind Teo. Her snarled black hair hangs in her eyes. “What is she—”
Erne raises his hand to his mouth.
It happens fast. Teo’s hand is reaching for the phone when the movement abruptly stops. The look on his face turns from self-confident to confused, and an instant later dark red liquid starts spurting from his neck.
And then the only one standing in the shot is Laura Helminen, a cold smirk on her face.
Malleus Maleficarum.