The Dangerous Game (20 page)

Yet now he was planning to give up all such amusements. He didn’t know if he dared take the risk of defying his wife. The thought of becoming a lonely old man frightened him, and in his heart he had to admit, however reluctantly, that Erna was right. How long could he keep carrying on these affairs? And did he really want to be unfaithful? The thought of sitting all by himself in a flat somewhere without any family or sexual desire scared him out of his wits. So there was only one thing to do: stop having these flings. Even though that seemed nearly impossible in this situation.

And it wasn’t that he and Erna had no sex life; when it came right down to it, they enjoyed making love to each other. But a sense of excitement was missing, the titillation of going to bed with someone new, someone he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to keep his promise. He could feel the effects of the alcohol and, faced with all the available women around him, his resolve began to weaken.

He slipped off to the loo. After relieving himself, he stood at the sink and splashed cold water on his face. Then he stared at himself in the mirror. Should I or shouldn’t I? Erna wouldn’t know a thing. The thought of finding himself in the arms of that brunette was getting more and more enticing. He was interrupted when his mobile phone began ringing in his jacket pocket. Wouldn’t surprise me if that’s Erna, he thought. She can probably sense what I’ve been thinking.

He took out his mobile. When he looked at the display, he froze. The message was not from his wife.

It was from a number he hadn’t used in a long time. The number belonged to Markus Sandberg.

IT TOOK ONLY
a few minutes for Robert Ek to walk from the club to the agency. He tapped in the security code at the front of the building then stepped inside. He wasn’t fond of lifts, so he decided to take the stairs. As he passed the entrance to the courtyard, he noticed that the door was ajar. Someone’s been very sloppy, he thought, and carefully closed the door. He checked several times to make sure it was locked. They didn’t want any homeless people or drunks getting inside the building.

He unlocked the door to the agency and turned on the lights in the hall and kitchen. Several bottles of champagne stood next to numerous empty glasses on the worktop. The staff had gathered here to have a drink before the party, along with some of the models, including Jenny. Now that he thought about it, she’d seemed unusually lively tonight, almost flirtatious. He felt desire burning inside him. He’d experienced a momentary confusion after reading her message, but then he’d sent back a text, saying that he would wait for her here. Any hesitation about being unfaithful had vanished completely. This was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. He would never forgive himself if he did. He looked at his watch. Ten more minutes until she’d arrive. He should have enough time. Eagerly, he unbuttoned his shirt and hurried to the shower room. All sorts of images whirled through his head as he lathered himself with soap. Jenny, of all people. He felt dizzy at the thought of touching her body, caressing and kissing her. Her message had surprised him. It said, ‘Meet me at the agency in half an hour. Hugs. Jenny.’

At first, Ek had been puzzled to see that the text had been sent from Markus’s mobile. But then he decided that Jenny must have taken possession of the phone when she found Markus in that cabin on Furillen. And after that she’d probably taken it home to recharge it. A bit odd, perhaps, but what the hell. Women were always coming up with the strangest ideas. And Diana had tossed Jenny’s mobile over the balcony railing.

It never occurred to him to question why Jenny would have brought Markus’s phone to the Christmas party. He was preoccupied with entirely different thoughts.

He quickly dried himself off and put on more aftershave. At the same time, he told himself that this was going to be the absolute last time that he was unfaithful to Erna. When he was dressed, he checked to make sure the agency door was unlocked so that Jenny could easily get in. Then he went to the staff lounge, lit a few candles, took a bottle of champagne from the fridge and washed two glasses. Glanced at his watch. She would be here any minute. He poured the champagne, turned off the ceiling lights and sat down on the sofa. All right, he thought, filled with anticipation. He was ready.

The minutes ticked by, but Jenny didn’t appear. He sipped his champagne. When almost an hour had passed, he sent a text:

‘I’m here. I’m waiting for you.’

After a while he went to his office and sat down at the desk, switching on the lamp. He might as well take care of some of the paperwork he’d been planning to take home over the Christmas holiday. He looked at the clock on the wall. Already 2.45 a.m. He’d stayed at the party longer than he’d intended. Old habits were hard to break. He’d always been a night owl.

Ek had nearly finished his work when he heard a sound. The front door opened and closed. Finally. He decided to stay here in his office and let her come to him. His heart was beating hard. Another minute passed, and she still hadn’t made her appearance. For a moment he was puzzled. He didn’t hear any footsteps. Was she playing with him? Maybe she was hiding somewhere. Maybe she had stretched out on the sofa and was waiting for him there.

He got up and padded across the floor to peek inside the staff lounge. She wasn’t there. The agency offices weren’t big enough to offer many hiding places. And he should have heard her by now.

‘Jenny?’ he called, filled with anticipation. ‘I’m in the staff lounge.’

No answer. He stood in the doorway for a few minutes. Motionless, his lips parted, his eyes open wide. Expectant and confused. Gradually, doubts began to form in his slightly hazy brain. He listened tensely. He thought he’d heard someone pressing down a door handle. But now there was only silence. Quickly, he returned to his desk and sank down on his chair, reaching out his hand to turn off the desk lamp. The room was cloaked in darkness. He sat still, waiting. When a couple more minutes had passed and Jenny did not turn up, he realized he’d been tricked. Slowly, he got up from his chair, hearing the faint creak of the leather seat and thinking that he was not dealing with some run-of-the-mill burglar. Who had pretended to be Jenny, and why? And how did the person in question happen to have Markus’s mobile? There could be only one explanation.

Ek tried to make as little noise as possible as he made his way through the kitchen towards the office of the booking agents, which was right next to the reception area. That was when he heard it. A creak. There was no doubt about it. And the sound came from the office. He could make out the furniture and the counter. He hurried as fast as he dared towards the front hall.

He touched the door. Panic sank its claws into him as he realized that the door was not only locked, but the key was missing. He turned around. And then he froze as someone reached for the switch on the wall and the hall was suddenly bathed in light. Robert Ek saw at once that his suspicions were correct. The person who had broken into the agency was no ordinary burglar.

Not at all.

WHEN JENNY AWOKE
, she had no idea where she was. The first thing she noticed was that the duvet felt different. It was heavier than her own and the covering was made of silk, as was the sheet underneath her. The bed was big and soft. At home, all of her bedlinen was cotton. Cautiously, she opened her eyes, which felt as if they were filled with sand and her lashes stuck together. She squinted at the window, which was covered with a heavy curtain. She could make out the faint sound of traffic in the distance. Slowly, she turned over and discovered next to her a muscular shoulder with a tattoo she didn’t recognize. Straggly blonde hair. She let her eyes wander onward. Further away, she saw a leg that couldn’t possibly belong to the person with the straggly hair. It was lying at the wrong angle. Her brain was sluggish; her thoughts crawled along. Again she looked at the leg, noticing that it was slender and nicely shaped, without a trace of hair. The toenails were painted black. So the leg must belong to a woman. She stared at the leg, trying to gather her thoughts. When she shifted her body, she realized that she was lying on a waterbed. Good Lord. Who had a waterbed these days? Where was she? How had she ended up here? She tried to get up, but the movement immediately brought on a splitting headache. She sank back against the pillows, trying desperately to remember what had happened last night. Some fragmented images appeared in her mind. The confrontation with Diana, Tobias’s warm eyes, wild dancing at the club, drinks at the bar, a white pill in the palm of her hand. Had she taken it? That’s what she must have done. Her head felt so muddled. What on earth had happened? At the club she’d met a big bunch of people she didn’t know; they were drinking champagne in the VIP room, laughing uncontrollably and having fun. She had danced, while her friends had disappeared. She didn’t know where Tobias had gone either. She thought they might have all gone home together, but he had been dancing with some blonde.

Blurry memories of the group leaving the club in the wee hours of the morning. Several girls and guys who had all crammed into one large taxi. Or was it a limousine? She recalled hands reaching under her shirt. She didn’t know who they belonged to, but she didn’t try to stop them. She was so drunk she no longer cared. She just passively went along with it. Let things run their course. It didn’t matter any more. She was beyond thinking about possible consequences or that she might put herself in some sort of danger or relinquish control. She remembered a staircase, music, a bare-chested girl, hands on her body. Then everything went black. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall anything else. All that remained was an aching feeling in her head and between her legs. And that spoke volumes.

Panic came creeping over her. She had to get away. She had to get out of here. Away from these people she didn’t know. What had they done to her? She started crying and sat up, making the bed shake. She staggered to her feet and managed to find her clothes in the dim light. Then she noticed a huge sectional sofa at the other end of the room. Two men and a woman, all of them naked, were sprawled on top of each other, sound asleep. When she went downstairs, she saw that it was broad daylight, or at least as light as it ever got in December. She looked out at a neatly maintained garden and caught a glimpse of water in the distance. She was clearly in someone’s luxury home. In the high-end kitchen with the panoramic views, she found her jacket and boots. Her handbag was on top of the dishwasher. To her relief, she found a packet of headache tablets in the loo and an unopened bottle of the energy drink ProViva Active in the fridge.

She decided to take it with her. Then she fumbled with the lock and opened the door to feel the fresh suburban air come gusting towards her.

TWO DAYS PASSED
before anyone discovered what had happened to Robert Ek. His wife and four children stayed the whole weekend in Dalarna, and his friends who had spent the night after the party in his house went their own way after regaining consciousness on Saturday afternoon. As agreed, they left the house key in a pot under the veranda stairs at the back of the house.

When the family returned home on Sunday, they found clear signs that a raucous party had gone on inside the house. And no one had bothered to clean up afterwards.

Someone had slept in the children’s beds. One or more people had also used the master bedroom, since the bedclothes were in disarray and several glasses, half filled with wine, stood on the bedside table. The last straw was when Erna Linton found a thong in the woodpile next to the fireplace. At that point she turned on her heel, gathered up the children and dog, and left the house. She phoned her sister, who had also spent the weekend with their parents in Dalarna and who lived nearby. At her sister’s house she left the dog and the children, who were happily surprised to find that they were going to have more time to play with their cousins. It was only a short while ago that they’d said goodbye at the service station where they had all stopped to have refreshments on their way home from Leksand.

Erna Linton then headed over to the agency. She was boiling with rage. Robert had promised never to do this again. He’d kept his promise for only two weeks, maybe even less. Over the weekend she’d tried to reach him several times, both on the home phone and on his mobile, but without success. Now she realized that he’d been busy with other things.

With a grim expression she drove her SUV through the Söderled tunnel and towards central Stockholm. Since it was Sunday evening, and the Christmas holiday had begun, it was easier than usual to find a parking spot. Normally, that was no easy task in Östermalm, where most of the streets were one-way.

She found a spot on Riddargatan, only a block from the agency. She had a strong sense of foreboding as she walked along the street and turned on to the lower section of Grev Turegatan.

She tapped in the security code and the heavy, polished door of the building opened with a faint buzzing sound. The door to the agency was decorated with a big wreath of lingonberry branches and red bows. She rang the bell. Waited a minute. No answer. She held her breath as she pushed down the door handle. The door opened. The floorboards in the hall creaked under her feet. A quick glance in the mirror. She looked pale and tired.

She surveyed the floor in the front hall. No shoes, or any coats lying about. She peeked inside the room where the bookings were done. Everything was neat and tidy. She continued on to the kitchen. On the worktop were a dozen empty champagne bottles, along with a number of glasses, some with lipstick on the rim. And a bowl with a few cashews left in the bottom. A sour smell hovered over the kitchen.

The agency’s most beautiful room had a tiled stove at one end and a large sofa. On the coffee table she saw two glasses filled with champagne and a bottle in a wine bucket. Candleholders had been set on the table.

The door to her husband’s office was ajar. When she looked into the room she noticed at once the congealed blood on the oak parquet floor.