Stalker

114

Erik runs past a fallen tree and carries on through the forest as he hears the barking of the dogs echo between the tree trunks.

After half a kilometre or so he reaches a stream. The bottom is covered with red stone, and the water shimmers brown with iron.

Erik steps into the ice-cold water and wades along the stream, hoping the dogs will lose his scent for a few minutes.

He wishes he could phone Jackie to tell her that he’s innocent. He can’t bear the thought of her believing that he’s a murderer. The media and social networking sites must be full of exaggerated accusations, details from his life, things from long ago that are now being dragged up as proof of his guilt.

Erik tries to wade faster but slips on a stone, falls and hits his knee on the bottom, and lets out a gasp. Cold and pain shoot up through his bones, up into his spine and neck.

He stands up and tries to run. The stones slide and slip beneath his feet, his clothes are heavy and the water foams up around him.

He reaches a bend. The banks are steeper here, the water-channel narrower and faster ahead of him.

The trees lean over the water and he has to bend down beneath their branches. He carries on wading as the stream passes through thicker forest. He can no longer hear the dogs, just the water lapping around his legs.

He makes his way round another bend and decides to get out of the stream. Dripping with water, Erik scrambles out of the water and hurries through the forest on squelching shoes. Exhaustion and his clinging clothes mean that he keeps stumbling.

Up ahead he can see the shimmering water of the long, thin Sicklasjön. He sinks down behind a large rock, pushing past the narrow trunks of a clump of rowan trees, panting so hard that his chest hurts.

This is hopeless, he thinks.

It’s over, I haven’t got anywhere to go.

He has loads of acquaintances, people he socialises with, colleagues of many years’ standing, a few good friends, but no one he can call right now.

He’s pretty sure that Simone would be willing to help, but she’s probably being watched. And Benjamin would do whatever he could, he knows that, but Erik would rather die than put his son in any danger.

There are only a few people he knows he could call.

Joona, Nelly, and maybe Jackie.

If Jackie has gone to see her sister, perhaps he could borrow her flat – assuming she doesn’t believe what the papers have been saying.

Erik looks at his phone. It’s only got 4 per cent of its battery charge left. He doesn’t want to put Nelly at risk, but he calls her number anyway.

If her phone’s being monitored then that’s that, but if he’s going to stand any chance at all he has to take the risk. He’s completely surrounded out here, he has no other option.

The sound of the helicopter clatters in the distance, then all he can hear is the wind in the treetops. His phone crackles and he hears the ringing tone, and then there’s a click.

‘Nelly,’ she answers in a calm voice.

‘It’s me,’ he says. ‘Can you talk?’

‘I don’t know, I think so,’ she says. ‘If this counts as talking…’

‘Nelly, listen, I don’t want to cause any trouble, but I need help.’

‘What’s going on, really?’ she asks.

‘I didn’t do the things they’re saying about me, I’ve got no idea what this is all about.’

‘Erik, I know, I know you’re innocent,’ she says. ‘But can’t you just hand yourself in to the police? Say you surrender, I’ll support you, be a witness, anything.’

‘They’ll shoot me the moment they catch sight of me. You’ve no idea what-’

‘I understand how you feel,’ she interrupts. ‘But doesn’t it just get even worse the longer you wait? The police are everywhere-’

‘Nelly-’

‘They’ve taken your computer, they’ve packed your whole office into boxes, they’re outside our house in Bromma, they’re at the Karolinska, and-’

‘Nelly, I need to stay in hiding for a while, there are no other options, but I want you to know that I’ll understand if you can’t help me.’

‘I love adventures,’ she says sarcastically.

‘Please, Nelly… there’s no one else I can ask.’

He can hear the dogs barking again. Closer now.

‘I can’t get involved,’ she says quietly. ‘You can see that, it would cause problems for Martin, but…’

‘Sorry I asked,’ Erik says, feeling black hopelessness fill his heart.

‘But I’ve got an old place,’ Nelly goes on. ‘Have I ever told you about Solbacken, it used to belong to Dad’s parents?’

‘How do I get there?’

‘Erik, I’m probably not much good at car chases, I haven’t got the balls, but I can go and… I don’t know, I can rent a car at Statoil or something…’

‘You’d do that for me?’ he asks.

‘Tell me you love me,’ she replies cheerfully.

‘I love you.’

‘Where shall we meet?’

‘Do you know the bathing beach at Sickla strand? Erik asks.

‘No, but I’m sure I can find it.’

‘There’s a school or nursery right next to the beach – wait there until I show up.’

He hears the dogs again, as their barking echoes through the trees.

Erik crouches down and runs through the dense undergrowth at the edge of the water, and pulls off his shoes and heavy trousers. He bundles his clothes up and hides in the bushes as a helicopter passes low overhead.

His pursuers are getting closer, the dogs sound eager and are barking excitedly.

Dressed in just his underpants and vest he wades out into Sicklasjön. The chill stabs at his feet and legs.

He can hears sirens from emergency vehicles from several directions, carried across the water and through the trees.

Erik sees blue lights flashing over on Ältavägen, on the bridge across the inlet leading to Järlasjön. There are at least three police cars. The vehicles’ lights reflect off the metal struts of the bridge and across the crowns of the trees on both shores.

The helicopter roars over the treetops again and he sinks quickly into the water. He holds his breath, but can clearly feel the change in the current as the helicopter passes. The water of the lake forms small waves radiating out in rapid circles.

He carries on, further out, slipping down amongst the water lilies, between their long stalks and the slimy bottom of the lake. There he lets the bundle of clothes containing his phone fill with bubbling water and sink.

In the other direction, beyond the dam, he can see that the bridge over the Sickla Channel has been blocked off. There are police cars everywhere. The tall fibreglass railings shimmer like huge plates of blue light. A helicopter is hovering above the ski slope.

Erik starts to swim, taking big strokes, feeling the cold against his lips and the smell of seawater. It can’t be many hundred metres to the other side. Two jetties reach out into the water in front of the housing blocks erected by Atlas Copco after the war to house their guest-workers.