The killer's art

68

It was on that Saturday in November that he realized he was capable of killing another human being. It had taken him two seconds to make up his mind. How he wished he hadn’t witnessed that scene, which had lasted no more than a moment. The images would stay with him for the rest of his life.

At first he hadn’t intended to follow the man who was the focus of his interest; it was an impulse that made him do it. He was just going to walk past the gallery. He hadn’t yet decided how to deal with what he’d found out; he had no idea what to do about it. He was planning to put it all aside until he figured out his next move. But that wasn’t how things worked out. Maybe what happened was predestined. That was what he thought afterwards. And after what he’d been forced to see, there was only one option. The realization had struck him like the blow of a club. Brutally, irrevocably.

He almost missed him. When he turned on to Osterlanggatan, he saw Hugo Malmberg locking up the gallery, even though it was an hour before closing time. Curiosity got the better of him. He decided to follow Malmberg and find out why the man he was tailing had broken his routine.

He followed a few yards behind, over to the bus stop on Skeppsbron. Malmberg was smoking a cigarette and talking to somebody on his mobile. Then the bus arrived. He dashed across the street to climb aboard, with Malmberg right in front of him. Uncomfortably close. If he simply reached out his hand, he could have touched the man’s arm.

He felt sick at the sight of the elegant woollen coat, the scarf nonchalantly flung over his shoulder. That self-confident, pompous man who thought he was invulnerable; so far he was happily unaware that his life was about to be shattered. Malmberg got off the bus near the NK department store on Hamngatan. He turned down Regeringsgatan and headed along the street for a while, then turned left on to a side street. He smoked another cigarette. Cars passed and people strolled by, going home or on their way into the city. Still curious, he continued following the man. He’d never been in this part of town before.

He was careful to keep a good distance between them, and for safety’s sake, he stayed on the opposite pavement. As luck would have it, there were still enough people about to prevent him drawing attention to himself. Suddenly the man he was following disappeared. Swiftly he crossed the street to stand in front of the nearest building. The facade had seen better days, and the display window had been painted black, making it impossible to see inside. A small sign on the metal door said ‘Video Delight’, lit up in red and gold. This must be where Malmberg had gone. It wasn’t hard to guess what type of video shop it was. He waited a minute before entering.

Inside he found a stairway illuminated with tiny red lights that led him downstairs. There he found a big video shop offering nothing but porn films, all the hard-core kind. Sex toys were also for sale, and there were small booths for private viewings. Behind the counter stood a young girl wearing a black hoodie. She seemed completely unaffected by the place; she might as well have been selling pastries or sewing supplies. She was chatting happily with a guy her own age as he put price tags on DVDs. Everywhere were close-up images from porn films on big-screen TVs. A few male customers were making their selections from the films.

Slowly he walked around, looking for the man he’d been following. The place was bigger than it had seemed at first glance. He peeked into one of the small, cramped booths. All he saw was a black vinyl recliner in front of a huge TV screen, an ashtray, tissues, a wastebasket and a remote control. Nothing else.

He made a quick survey of all the empty booths; Malmberg seemed to have been swallowed up by the earth. Puzzled, he went over to the red-painted counter and asked the girl if there were any other rooms.

‘Yes,’ she said, pointing to a door that he hadn’t noticed before. ‘In there. But it’s only for guys. Homos, you know.’ A small sign on the door said ‘ BOYS ONLY ’. ‘And there’s a fee. Eighty kronor.’

‘OK,’ he said and paid her the money.

She cast a deliberate glance at a basket on the counter. It was full of condoms. ‘They’re free,’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘Well, you can have two for free. If you need more, you have to pay.’

He shook his head, opened the door and went inside.

It was even darker in there, and the stairway was narrower and steeper than the first one.

The only sound was the roar of the air conditioning. There was a fresh, almost herb-like fragrance, almost as if it were a spa. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found a long, narrow corridor stretching out in front of him. It was dimly lit, with red neon lights along the ceiling. The walls were painted red, and the floor was black. On either side were booths that seemed to be the same as those upstairs. Several doors were closed, and faint groans were audible through the thin walls.

A guy who looked to be about twenty-five was standing at a booth with the door half open. As he passed, he caught sight of someone sitting inside. The guy was obviously going to go in and keep the customer company.

Everywhere were screens showing porn films. He wondered where Malmberg had gone. Maybe he was sitting in one of these booths, enjoying himself. He found the thought disgusting.

A man came out of one of the rooms, and his face lit up. The man tried to tempt him into the room without saying a word, just using blatant body language to indicate what he wanted. He hurried past.

The place was unbelievable. The corridors were like a labyrinth, and he soon lost track of where he’d entered. All he saw were more booths and pictures.

He started feeling dizzy, and he longed to get out of there. He tried to find his way back, hurrying in the direction that he thought would lead to the stairs. He turned out to be mistaken. Instead he ended up in front of a door at the end of the corridor where he had heard the moaning. Cautiously he opened the door just enough to peer inside. He was looking at a small movie room. On one wall was a screen showing the same type of films that he’d already seen a hundred times over during his brief visit here. All of the furnishings were black — the walls, ceiling, floor, sofa and armchairs.

At first he saw only three bodies that were fully engaged on the sofa in front of the screen. He immediately recognized Malmberg as one of the men. Then he saw the face of another, who might have been in his fifties. The man looked familiar, but he couldn’t place him. The face of the third person wasn’t visible. He was younger, and the two older men were leaning over him. They were all naked, and none of them seemed to notice his presence. All of their attention was focused on each other.

He was seized by a sense of unreality — as if the scene unfolding before his eyes couldn’t possibly be happening.

Just as he was about to turn round and leave, he saw the face of the third man.

Two seconds. That was all it took to recognize him.

Quickly he shut the door. For a moment he stood outside, leaning against the wall. Sweat was pouring down his face. He wanted to scream.

He stumbled back along the corridor and finally managed to locate the stairs to the exit. He avoided looking at the girl standing behind the counter.

Out on the street he blinked in the light. A woman pushing a pram walked past. Daily life was proceeding as usual. When he turned the corner, he threw up. Not only because of what he’d just witnessed, but because of what he was going to have to do.