HIS CLOTHES WERE STICKY with sweat even though he was shaking from the cold. His blood vessels were constricted, redistributing his blood to only the most vital organs. He was in shock, and his body was acting accordingly. Everything that had seemed so important earlier felt diffuse and fuzzy. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry, but he couldn’t — not right now.
He put his hands on the table as if to stand up, but he changed his mind when he realized that he didn’t have the energy. “Where is he?”
“Ironic that you’re suddenly asking so many questions about your son.”
“Ironic?”
“Yes, that you suddenly seem to care about him. I don’t have kids myself, but I would say that your actions are probably a little late. I assume you’ve read at least parts of his diary. A person can’t help but wonder, ‘Where are his parents?’ I’m sure you would ask the same thing, if you weren’t the parent in question. Wouldn’t you?” Torgny Sölmedal searched his face for an acknowledgement, but Fabian didn’t move a muscle. “Well, we can at least agree that your beloved son was wondering, up until half an hour ago, where his parents were.”
Fabian wanted to jump on the man across the table and beat his jeering face to a pulp, but he fought against it; he wanted to remain in control at all costs.
“Instead, let’s talk about why you’re here in the first place. You weren’t even part of the original plan. You lived in Stockholm, and were only going to contribute to the death toll toward the end. Aside from you and Lotta Ting, everyone still lived here in Helsingborg. But then you moved back down. Don’t ask me why, I’ve never understood the point of returning to the scene of the crime. But suddenly you were here and I figured I might as well pull you a little deeper into my plan. To be perfectly honest I wasn’t worried about you at all: you haven’t exactly accomplished an impressive list of achievements. I didn’t consider you an immediate threat, which turned out to be a serious miscalculation — it has been my biggest mistake so far, and it came close to costing me this entire operation. So cheers to you and your, how should I put it, ‘cop instinct.’” He stopped talking for a moment and drank his coffee. “The situation with the car was truly impressive. I’ve been trying to figure out how you managed to find it, but I haven’t succeeded. And don’t tell me, because I’ll think of it eventually. By the way, your coffee’s getting cold.”
“Let it.”
“It’s up to you. Your little triumphs forced me to make some changes to the plan and, frankly, it’s so much better now that you’re the crowning glory instead of Monika Krusenstierna. Remember her? Our teacher, who always wore a plaid skirt and looked away the second anything uncomfortable happened? A little bit like you, actually. I bet there have been a number of times when you could tell your son wasn’t doing so well, but just like Monika, you chose to turn your back on him.”
Fabian couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He flew out of his chair, overturned the table, and threw himself at Torgny Sölmedal, who lost his balance and fell to the ground. Fabian saw his own gun sliding across the floor, managing to stop it with one hand, only to feel his body start to cramp up. A burning pain spread from his abdomen.
Torgny Sölmedal turned off the Taser and wriggled out of Fabian’s grasp. “Is this what you call civilized?”
Fabian couldn’t respond — he was on the floor, shaking with spasms. His mind was present, but his motor skills were not. From the corner of his eye he could see Sölmedal picking up the guns and placing them on the counter; he opened one of the kitchen drawers and took out a pair of meat shears, and retrieved a syringe from the refrigerator. Fabian tried to say something, but all he could manage was a weak moan.
Meanwhile, Sölmedal inserted the shears into Fabian’s shirt collar and cut a large hole in the fabric to expose his neck. Fabian tried to resist, but his body refused to obey him. Sölmedal had no trouble feeling his way to his carotid artery.