Lars Kepler 2-book Bundle (27 page)

“And the one with the most points is the winner?” says Kennet.

“I don’t actually know. It never seems to end.”

“So this is a computer game?”

“It’s everything, Dad. Computer game, Nintendo, a TV show, a movie, stuffed toys, sweets, trading cards.”

“I don’t know if I’m really any the wiser,” he says.

“No,” she says hesitantly.

He studies her. “What are you thinking?”

“I’ve just realised that’s exactly the point: adults are to be excluded,” she says. “The kids are ignored, left to their own devices, because we can’t understand. We dismiss it, call it stupid, but really the Pokémon world is too big, too complex for us.”

“Do you think Benjamin has started playing again?” asks Kennet.

“Not in the same way. This must be something else,” she says, pointing at the screen.

“You think this Wailord is a real person,” he says.

“Yes.”

“Who has nothing to do with Pokémon?”

“I don’t know … Aida’s brother talked to me about Wailord as if he was talking about a Pokémon. Perhaps that’s just his way of talking. As I said, he’s a little … off. But everything is cast in a different light when Benjamin writes
Don’t let Nicky go down to the sea
.”

“It does sound as if Benjamin’s taking the threat seriously,” says Kennet.

“But the sea,” she says. “What sea? There is no sea here, it only exists in the game. The sea is pretend, but the threat is genuine,” she says thoughtfully.

“We have to find this Wailord.”

“It could be a Lunar,” she says hesitantly. “Or an Avatar, or something.”

He looks at her with a small smile. “I’m beginning to understand why it was time for me to retire.”

“Lunar is an identity on a chat page,” Simone explains, moving closer to the screen. “I’ll do a search for Wailord.”

The result gives 85,000 hits. Kennet goes into the kitchen, and she hears the sound of the police radio being turned up. Crackling and hissing is mixed with human voices.

She skims through page after page of Japanese Pokémon material.

“There’s your sea,” says Kennet quietly, reading over her shoulder.

She didn’t hear him come back.

The text describes how Wailord chases its prey and herds them by making a gigantic leap and landing in the middle of the shoal. It is terrible, Simone reads, to see Wailord swallow its prey in one gulp.

She refines the search by requesting only pages written in Swedish and enters a forum where she finds a conversation:

“Anything useful?” asks Kennet.

“This could take a while.”

“Go through all his messages, check the trash, and try to track down this Wailord.”

She looks up and sees that Kennet has his leather jacket on.

“I’m off,” he says briefly.

“Off where? Home?”

“I need to talk to Nicky and Aida.”

“Shall I come with you?” she asks.

Kennet shakes his head. “It’s better if you’re the one who goes through the computer.”

Kennet tries to summon up a smile as she walks to the door with him. He looks very tired. She gives him a hug before he goes, locks up behind him, and hears him press the button for the lift.

She walks into the kitchen and sees a brioche sitting on the flattened paper bag it came in, a slice cut from it. The coffee machine is still on, but there is only a dark sediment in the bottom of the pot.

The smell of burnt coffee mingles with a sense of panic over the feeling that her life has been divided into two acts and that the first act, the happy one, has just ended. She can’t bring herself to think about Act Two. Outside the window lies the December darkness. It looks windy. The traffic signals, suspended over the junctions, swing back and forth, and wet snowflakes are falling through the light.

She finds a deleted message from Aida:
I feel sorry for you, living in a house of lies.
The message has a large attachment. Simone feels the pulse at her temples beating faster. Just as she is about to click open the file, there is a tentative knock at the front door. It is almost a scraping sound. She holds her breath, hears another knock, and stands up. Her legs feel weak as she begins to walk down the long passage leading to the hall and the outside door.

Kennet sits in his car outside the entrance to Aida’s apartment in Sundbyberg, pondering the strange threat on Benjamin’s computer:

And Benjamin’s response:

Kennet thinks about the number of times in his life when he has both seen and heard fear. He himself knows how fear feels, because none of us walks without it.

The building where Aida lives is quite small, only three storeys. It looks unexpectedly idyllic, old-fashioned and authentic. He looks at the photo Simone gave him. A girl with piercings, her eyes heavily made up with black. He wonders why he finds it difficult to imagine her living in this building, eating at a kitchen table, sleeping in a room where posters of ponies have been replaced by Marilyn Manson.

Kennet gets out of the car and is about to creep over to the balcony he thinks belongs to Aida’s family, but he stops when he catches sight of a tall, shambling figure moving back and forth along the path behind the building.

Suddenly the door opens and Aida comes out. She seems to be in a hurry. She glances over her shoulder, takes a pack of cigarettes out of her bag and shakes one out, tucks it between her lips, and lights it without ever slowing down. Kennet follows her towards the underground station. He will approach her once he figures out where she’s heading. A bus thunders past, and somewhere a dog starts barking. Kennet suddenly sees the tall figure from behind the building rush towards Aida. She turns around to face him, but rather than frightened she’s happy; her whole face is smiling, and the pale, powdered cheeks and kohl-rimmed eyes are suddenly childlike. The figure jumps up and down in front of her. She pats him on the cheek, and he responds with a hug. They kiss the tips of each other’s noses, and then Aida waves goodbye. Kennet moves closer, thinking that the tall figure must be her brother. He is standing motionless, watching Aida as she walks away; then he gives a little wave and turns. Kennet sees the boy’s face, soft and open. One eye has a significant squint. Kennet stops beneath a streetlamp and waits. The boy heads towards him with long, heavy strides.

“Hi, Nicky,” says Kennet.

Nicky stops and looks at him with an expression of terror. There is a blob of saliva at both corners of his mouth. “Not allowed,” he says, slowly and uncertainly.

“Sure you are. My name is Kennet, and I’m a police officer. Or, to be more accurate, I’m getting on a bit now and I’ve retired, but that doesn’t change anything, I’m still a police officer.”

The boy smiles in surprise. “Have you got a gun, then?”

Kennet shakes his head. “No,” he lies. “And I haven’t got a police car either.”

The boy’s expression grows serious. “Did they take it away when you got old?”

Kennet nods. “Yep.”

“Are you here to catch the thiefs?” asks Nicky.

“What thieves?”

Nicky tugs at the zip of his jacket. “Sometimes they take things from me,” he says, kicking at the ground.

“Who does?”

Nicky looks at him impatiently. “The thiefs.”

“Right.”

“My hat, my watch, my special stone with the glittery edge.”

“Are you scared of anyone?”

He shakes his head.

“Everybody here is pretty nice, huh?” Kennet asks hesitantly.

The boy puffs out his cheeks, hums, and gazes after Aida.

“My sister is searching for the worst monster.”

Kennet nods in the direction of the newspaper kiosk by the underground station. “Would you like a Coke?”

The boy walks alongside him, chatting away. “I work in the library on Saturdays. I take people’s coats and hang them up in the cloakroom, and they get a ticket with a number on it, thousands of different numbers.”

“Good for you,” says Kennet. He buys two bottles of Coca-Cola.

Nicky looks pleased and asks for an extra straw. Then he drinks, burps, drinks, and burps again.

“What did you mean when you mentioned your sister and a monster?” Kennet asks casually.

Nicky frowns. “It’s that boy. Aida’s boyfriend. Benjamin. She hasn’t seen him today. But before he was really mad, really really mad. Aida cried.”

“Why was Benjamin angry?”

Nicky looks at Kennet in surprise. “Benjamin isn’t angry, he’s nice. He makes Aida happy and she laughs.”

Kennet looks at the tall boy. “So who was angry, Nicky? Who was it that was angry?”

Nicky suddenly looks uneasy. He stares at his drink, searching for something. “I’m not allowed to accept things from—”

“This is different, remember? I’m a policeman. It’ll be fine this time, I promise,” says Kennet. “Who was angry, Nicky?”

Nicky scratches his throat and wipes the foam from the corners of his mouth. “It’s Wailord—his mouth is this big.” He demonstrates with his arms.

“Wailord?”

“He’s evil.”

“Where’s Aida gone, Nicky?”

The boy’s cheeks quiver as he replies. “She can’t find Benjamin; it’s not good.”

“But where did she go just now?”

Nicky looks as if he’s about to burst into tears as he shakes his head. “No, no, no, I’m not allowed to talk to men I don’t know.”

“Of course you’re not. But, look, Nicky, I’m no ordinary man,” says Kennet, taking out his wallet and finding a photograph of himself in his police uniform.

Nicky looks closely at the picture. Then he says seriously, “Aida is going to see Wailord. She’s afraid he’s bitten Benjamin. Wailord opens his mouth this wide.”

Nicky demonstrates with his arms again, and Kennet tries to keep his voice completely calm as he says, “Do you know where Wailord lives?”

“At the sea.”

“The sea. And how do you get there?”

“I’m not allowed to go to the sea, not even close.”

“I understand that, Nicky. But I can go. How do you get there?”

“On the bus.”

Nicky fishes for something in his pocket, whispering to himself, then looks up at Kennet. “Wailord played a trick on me once when I had to pay,” he says, trying to smile. “He was just joking. They tricked me into eating something you’re not supposed to eat.”

Kennet waits. Nicky blushes and fiddles with his zipper. His fingernails are dirty.

“What did you eat?” asks Kennet.

The boy’s cheeks quiver violently again. “I didn’t want to,” he replies, and a few tears trickle down his face.

Kennet pats Nicky on the shoulder and tries to keep his voice calm and steady. “You know what it sounds like? It sounds like Wailord is really stupid.”

“Stupid.”

Kennet wonders what Nicky keeps fiddling with in his pocket. “I’m a police officer, you know that, and I say that nobody is allowed to do stupid things to you.”

“You’re too old.”

“But I’m strong.”

Nicky looks more cheerful. “Can I have another Coke?”

“If you want.”

“Yes, please.”

“What have you got in your pocket?” asks Kennet, feigning indifference.

Nicky smiles. “It’s a secret.”

“I see,” says Kennet, and refrains from asking any further.

Nicky takes the bait. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Oh, no. I understand secrets. You couldn’t be a policeman for as long as I have without being able to keep a secret. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Nicky.”

“You’ll never guess what it is.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t.”

Nicky takes his hand out of his pocket. “I’ll tell you what it is.” He opens his fist. “It’s my power.”

In Nicky’s hand lies a small lump of soil. Kennet looks inquiringly at the boy who simply smiles.

“I am a ground-type Pokémon,” he says contentedly.

“A ground-type Pokémon,” Kennet repeats.

Nicky closes his fist and pushes it back in his pocket. “Do you know what my powers are?”

Kennet shakes his head. Across the street, a man with a pointed head slowly passes the dark, damp façades of the buildings. He seems to be searching for something; he has a cane in his hand and is poking at the ground with it. Kennet automatically thinks that the man is trying to look in through the windows on the ground floor. He thinks he ought to go over and ask him what he’s doing. But Nicky has placed a hand on his arm.

“Do you know what my powers are?” the boy says again.

Kennet drags his gaze reluctantly away from the man. Nicky begins to count on his fingers.

“I’m good against all electric Pokémons, fire Pokémons, poison Pokémons, rock Pokémons, and steel Pokémons. They can’t beat me; I’m safe when it comes to all of those. But I can’t fight flying Pokémons or grass-and-insect Pokémons.”

“Really?” says Kennet distractedly. The man has stopped at one of the windows. Tucking his cane under his arm, he busily goes through his pockets, as if looking for a key or a match, but Kennet can see he’s actually leaning into the glass.

“Are you listening?” Nicky asks anxiously.

Kennet tries to smile encouragingly at him, but when he turns back to look, the man has disappeared. Kennet can’t make out whether the ground-floor window is open.

“I can’t fight water,” Nicky explains sadly. “Water’s the worst. I can’t fight it. I’m scared of water.”

Kennet carefully loosens Nicky’s grip on his arm. “Just hang on a minute,” he says, taking a few steps towards the curb.

“Hey, what time is it?” asks Nicky suddenly.