Authors: Lars Kepler
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Police Procedural, #Thrillers, #Crime, #Noir, #International Mystery & Crime, #Suspense
Benjamin’s computer screen flickers, like an eye closing and then opening. She’s in.
A photograph of a deer in a forest glade fills the desktop screen. The greenery is bathed in a magical dewy light. The shy animal seems totally calm at this particular moment. Despite the fact that Simone knows she is intruding into Benjamin’s private space, it’s as if something of him is suddenly close to her again.
“You’re a genius,” she hears her father say behind her.
“I’m not,” she replies.
Kennet places one hand on her shoulder, and she launches the e-mail program.
“How far back should we go?” she asks.
“We’ll go through everything.”
She scrolls through the inbox, opening message after message. A classmate has a question about a portfolio. A school group project is discussed. Someone claims Benjamin has won four million euros in a Spanish lottery.
Kennet disappears and returns with two mugs of coffee. “Best drink in the world, coffee,” he says, sitting down. “How the hell did you manage to crack the computer?”
She shrugs diffidently and takes a sip of coffee. But she can’t bring herself to tell him that Erik provided her with the password.
“I’ll have to call my computer friend and tell him we don’t need his help. He’s too slow!”
She moves through the list, opening a message from Aida, who tells him all about a bad film in an amusing way, saying that Arnold Schwarzenegger is a lobotomized Shrek.
The weekly bulletin from school. A warning from the bank about the importance of not revealing details of your account to anyone. Facebook, Facebook, Facebook, Facebook, Facebook.
Simone logs onto Benjamin’s Facebook page. There are hundreds of inquiries featuring the group
hypno monkey
. Every comment has to do with Erik, various sneering theories that Benjamin has been hypnotized into being a nerd, evidence that Erik has hypnotized the entire Swedish nation, one person demanding compensation because Erik has hypnotized his cock.
There is a link to a clip on YouTube. Simone follows it and finds a short film titled
Asshole
. The sound track features a researcher describing how serious hypnosis works, while the film shows Erik pushing past a number of people. He happens to bump into an elderly woman using a wheeled walker, and she gives him the finger behind his back.
Simone goes back to Benjamin’s e-mail inbox and finds a short note from Aida that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. There is something about these few words that make a formless fear begin to rise up in her stomach. Her palms are suddenly sweaty. She turns the screen toward Kennet.
“Read this, Dad.”
Nicky says Wailord is angry and has opened his mouth against you. I think this could be really dangerous, Benjamin.
“Nicky is Aida’s younger brother,” says Simone.
“And Wailord?” asks Kennet, taking a deep breath. “Do you know about this?”
Simone shakes her head. The fear inside her is so dark, so dense, it feels as if it’s made of marble. What does she actually know about Benjamin’s life?
“I think Wailord is the name of a Pokémon character,” she says. Simone clicks on the sent folder and finds Benjamin’s agitated response:
Nicky has to stay indoors. Don’t let him go down to the sea. If Wailord is really angry, one of us is in trouble. We should have gone to the police straight away. I think it’s too dangerous to do it now.
“Fuck,” says Kennet.
“I don’t know if this is genuine or if it’s part of a game.”
“It doesn’t sound like a game.”
“No.”
Kennet lets out a long breath and scratches his stomach. “Aida and Nicky,” he says slowly. “What kind of people are they, then?”
Simone looks at her father and wonders how to answer him. He would never understand a person like Aida: a girl who always dresses in black, wears lots of make-up, has piercings and tattoos, and whose home circumstances are peculiar to say the least.
“Aida is Benjamin’s girlfriend,” says Simone. “And Nicky is her younger brother. There’s a picture of her and Benjamin somewhere.”
She finds Benjamin’s wallet and digs out the picture of Aida. Benjamin has his arm around her shoulders. Aida looks slightly uncomfortable, but Benjamin is laughing into the camera, his expression relaxed.
“But what kind of people are they?” asks Kennet stubbornly, looking at Aida’s face with its harsh make-up.
“What kind of people?” she says slowly. “I don’t really know. I just know that Benjamin is extremely fond of her. And she seems to take good care of her brother. I think he’s got some kind of learning disability.”
“Aggressive?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Benjamin writes about a real threat,” Kennet says, “but Wailord doesn’t really exist.”
Kennet folds his arms. He leans back and looks up at the ceiling. Then he straightens up and says in a serious tone, “So Wailord is a cartoon character?”
“A Pokémon,” she replies.
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“If you have children of a certain age, you know about it whether you want to or not,” she says.
Kennet is looking blankly at her.
“Pokémon,” Simone repeats. “It’s a kind of game.”
“A game?”
“It was something Benjamin loved when he was younger. He used to collect the cards and talk about the different powers, about how the characters transformed themselves.”
Kennet shakes his head.
“He must have been into it for about two years,” she says.
“But not any more?”
“He’s a bit too old now.”
“I used to see you playing with dolls when you came home from riding camp.”
“Well, who knows, maybe he plays in secret,” she replies.
“So what’s it all about, this Pokémon?”
“How can I explain? It’s Japanese, originally. It became really popular in the nineties. A whole industry, really . The characters are pocket monsters. They’re animals but not real animals. They’re invented; they can look like insects or robots, something along those lines. Some of them are cute, others are just revolting. The person playing keeps them in his pocket; they can be rolled up and placed in little balls. The whole thing is really stupid. You compete against other players by arranging fights between your different Pokémons. Very violently, of course. Anyway, the goal is to beat as many as possible, because then you get money— the player gets money, the Pokémon character gets points.”
“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 realized 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 some thing.”
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.
Wailord is the largest of all identified Pokémon up to now. This giant Pokémon swims in the open sea, eating massive amounts of food at once with its enormous mouth.
“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:
Hi, how do you get a Wailord?
If you want to get a Wailord, the easiest thing is to catch a Wailmer somewhere out at sea.
OK, but where?
Almost anywhere, as long as you use Super Rod.
“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:
Nicky says Wailord is angry, and that he has opened his mouth against you.
And Benjamin’s response:
Don’t let him go down to the sea.
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 toward s the underground station. He will approach her once he figures out where she’s headed. A bus thunders past, and somewhere a dog starts barking. Kennet suddenly sees the tall figure from behind the building rush toward s 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 toward 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.”