Stalker

38

The psychedelic room at the Birger Jarl Hotel that Linda Bergman described is actually known as ‘the Retro Room’, and can be booked just like any other room.

The hotel underwent a complete renovation at the turn of the millennium. All the rooms were gutted and the décor completely changed. Once the workmen had left, it turned out that room 247 had been forgotten.

The room had somehow been ignored during every refurbishment since the hotel was built in 1974.

It’s still intact, like a small time-capsule from a bygone age.

In 2013 a murder was committed at the hotel, after a sofa in room 247 was changed. Naturally, everyone claims that there was no connection between the two events, but now the staff refuse to make any adjustments to the layout of the room.

Adam has been sitting in his car in front of the old electricity works for five hours, watching the entrance to the hotel. Joona has been standing outside, wrapped in his blanket, holding out a cup with some coins in it.

Thirty-five guests have gone in during that time, but no Eugene.

Further down the street a grey-haired waiter is squatting down outside an Italian restaurant, smoking. When the church bells slowly strike eleven o’clock, Joona limps over to the car.

‘You’d better go in,’ he says to Adam.

‘Can’t you come with me?’

‘I’ll wait here,’ Joona says.

Adam drums his thumbs on the steering wheel.

‘OK,’ he says, and rubs his chin a few times.

‘Take it easy in there,’ Joona says. ‘Just because they’re there doesn’t make them criminals. You’re likely to see quite a lot of drugs, but ignore that. You should intervene only if you see signs of forced sexual activity, or if there’s anyone underage.’

Adam nods, and feels his stomach flutter as he gets out of the car and walks into the hotel.

The softly curved reception desk is empty except for a man talking on the phone.

Adam goes over to the desk, shows his ID, is given a passcard and continues towards the lifts. The Retro Room is at the end of the corridor, and on the door handle is a floppy plastic sign saying ‘Do not disturb’.

Adam hesitates, then lowers the zip of his black leather jacket. His white T-shirt is tucked inside his black jeans, and his Sig Sauer is in a holster beneath his left armpit.

All he has to do is go in, nice and calmly, he tells himself. Find Eugene, take him to one side, and ask his questions.

Adam clears his throat and runs the card through the reader. The lock clicks and a little green light comes on. He opens the door, walks into a dark hallway, and shuts the door behind him.

He can hear music and muffled voices, and a bed creaking.

The light is weak, but it isn’t completely dark. He looks around. He’s in a small lobby where people have left their clothes.

A woman with a boyish blonde haircut comes out of the bathroom and blinks at him in the darkness. She’s wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy black silk panties, and she’s so beautiful that his heart starts to beat faster.

She’s got traces of white powder stuck in the lip-gloss at one corner of her mouth. She looks at Adam with big, black pupils surrounded by a narrow ring of ice-blue. She moistens her lips and says something that he doesn’t hear, before going back into the bedroom.

He follows her, unable to stop himself staring at her naked, glistening back.

Inside the dimly lit room there’s a sweet, smoky smell.

Adam stops and looks over at the bed, then looks away again immediately. He shuffles sideways along the wall, passing a naked man with a glass of champagne in his hand, then stops.

No one has reacted to his presence.

A woman pushes past, her eyes focused on the floor. The wallpaper is pink and wavy, the carpet brown with a starburst pattern. There are no lamps on, but the light of the city outside reaches around the curtains, spreading across the ceiling.

The whole room is heavy with the smell of excited people. Wherever Adam looks he can see glistening genitals, open mouths, breasts, tongues, buttocks.

Apart from the music, there’s very little sound. The people having sex are concentrating on that, intent on their own or their partner’s pleasure. Others are resting, watching the orgy with a hand between their legs.

His pulse thuds in his ears and he can feel himself blushing.

He needs to try to find Eugene.

Adam passes a beautiful woman in her thirties. He can’t help looking at her. She’s wearing a batik blouse, and is sitting on the desk with her eyes closed. Her exposed crotch looks like it’s been powdered. It resembles polished marble, with a line drawn on it in pink chalk.

None of it is as desperate or grubby as he had imagined. It’s more introverted, more self-aware.

Adam carries on round the bed, wondering if this is all simply part of these people’s trendy lifestyle.

He’s the same age as most of the people there, but he’s only there to do his job, and then go home to his wife in Hägersten, no doubt to remember what he has seen forever. He knows already that he won’t be able to talk to her about it – not seriously. He’ll end up joking about it, or turning it into something disgusting.

He looks at the people around him, and thinks that he’ll be able to tell himself that they’re spoiled, that he feels sorry for them, but that isn’t true, not right then.

A pang of envy runs through him.