IT HADN’T TURNED out too badly, the voice in Fabian’s mind told him as he climbed the stepladder in the middle of the living room and started examining the brass chandelier and its eight arms. If anything, it had gone rather well. As well as he could have hoped, if not better.
That Theodor had talked to him and even hugged him back had to be considered positive. True, he’d cried and not been himself. But that was hardly surprising given where he was and what he’d been through. Hopefully it would be over soon.
Maybe he’d gone too far when he promised everything would turn out all right. But what was he supposed to do? If anything, the outcome was less certain than ever. Especially after the assault. Why would they believe him over the others once he stepped into the witness box?
Was that why he had a headache? His head normally never hurt. As a matter of fact, his whole body felt achy and uncomfortable, as though it didn’t belong to him. Maybe it was the price he paid for not going for a run or hitting the gym for weeks.
But he hadn’t had the peace of mind to pull on his shorts and head out into Pålsjö Forest. And right now, he had to locate and remove the cameras Molander had installed around his house. At least that was easier now he’d seen the camera angles.
The bathroom, bedroom and hallway were already done. As was the basement, the upstairs landing and the kitchen, where the camera had turned out to be hidden in the wall clock, of all places. In the children’s rooms they’d been inserted into cacti Molander must have rigged and brought with him. Sonja was currently in the studio, busy preparing for her performance piece tomorrow and not to be disturbed under any circumstances, so he was leaving that camera up for now.
The only other camera left was the one in the living room.
He’d examined the picture frames, the display cabinet, the curtains and the potted plants in the window with a magnifying glass, to no avail. He’d even gone over the brass chandelier in the ceiling twice. But there was a camera somewhere; he’d seen it on the screen in Molander’s basement. An eye placed somewhere high up and angled down towards the middle of the room.
Maybe he should just give up and not bother. Almost everything had been said between Molander and him anyway. They’d searched each other’s houses and Molander had most likely gone through his office in the basement, so there was really nothing left to hide.
More than anything, he needed to relax, if only for a few hours. Forget his worries and the guilt over Theodor. Forget Molander and Milwokh. And himself.
He stepped off the ladder, went over to the record collection that covered one of the walls and let his eyes rove across the CD spines for something to take his mind off things.
Other than Brian Eno’s Thursday Afternoon, he hadn’t listened to anything for ages, and he suddenly realized how much he’d missed it.
In front of him were countless albums he never had time to play. So many songs just waiting for their chance to fill the room. Together, they formed an almost impenetrable wall of choices so overwhelming he was unable to make a decision.
Maybe that was why he closed his eyes and let his fingers roam across the spines and the hard, angular plastic. Whatever the reason, it felt good and he continued to let his hand wander along the rows of albums, some of which were broken and jaggedly sharp. When he suddenly came across something sticking out between two albums, he opened his eyes and saw the tiny camera squeezed in between the xxs’ debut album and their second, Coexist, in the electronic indie section.
Relieved, he pulled the camera out and disconnected the battery cable. Then he pulled out the debut album, and after studying the stark white X against the black background for a while, he pushed the disc into the player and turned up the volume.