'Do something!' Sophia whimpers.

Blood from the wound in Filip's forehead trickles through one eyebrow and drips down on to his cheek.

'I know you're only trying to protect her,' Joona says calmly.

'Yes, but you-'

'Listen to me,' Adam interrupts, breathing quickly. 'You need to put the knife down.'

Sophia is sobbing with her hand over her mouth. Filip looks at Adam and grins at him.

'I know where you're from,' he says, and presses the knife harder against Carola's neck.

'Put the knife down now,' Adam shouts, moving sideways to get a clear line of fire.

Filip watches Adam and licks his lips nervously. The room is gloomy, but blood is clearly running down the blade.

'Filip, you're hurting her,' Joona says, trying to conquer his dizziness. 'You don't have to do that, we're no threat to you ...'

'Shut up!'

'We're just here to-'

'Shut up!'

'We're here to ask about Maria Carlsson,' Joona concludes.

'Maria? My Maria?' he says in a low voice. 'Why ...?'

Joona nods and thinks that he could shoot Filip in the shoulder, disarm him and then lie down on the floor. He's waited too long. He can hardly see anything now, through the burning pain behind his eyes.

'Look, I'm taking my gun out and giving it to you,' Joona says, carefully drawing his Colt.

Filip stares at him with bloodshot eyes.

'Maria said the NSA have started creeping about in her garden,' he explains. 'I went over and saw for myself, a skinny man in yellow overalls, like the Lofoten fishermen when I was little, he was filming her through the window, and ...'

Joona wipes some blood from his nose and then his head explodes and his legs give way.

Sophia screams when he slumps on to his side, tries to get up, but falls on to his back and lies there with his eyelids quivering.

She goes over to him and kneels down. A bubbling, pulsing sensation behind one eye makes him hold his breath. Before it goes completely dark he feels her pull the pistol from his hand.

She stands up, straightens her back, takes a few shallow, panting breaths, then aims the pistol at Filip.

'Let my sister go!' she says sharply. 'Just let her go!'

'Put the gun down,' Adam says in a shaky voice, and moves between them. 'I'm a police officer, you need to trust me.'

'Get out of the way!' she yells. 'Filip's not going to let her go!'

'Don't do anything silly,' Adam says, holding out his hand.

'Don't touch me I'll shoot!'

She's clutching the pistol with both hands, but the barrel is still shaking.

'Give me the gun and-'

There's a deafening explosion as the pistol goes off. The bullet grazes Adam's torso and hits Filip in the top of his arm. The knife falls to the floor and Filip stares at Sophia in astonishment as blood seeps through his fingers.

'Get out of the way!' she shouts again.

Adam lurches to the side, and feels warm blood pulsing out beneath his clothes. Sophia fires again, and hits Filip right in the chest. Blood spatters the boxes behind him and runs across the gla.s.s of the mirror. The empty cartridge falls to the ground with a tinkling sound.

Carola is still standing there with her head bowed, and slowly raises her hand to her neck. Sophia lowers the gun and stares blankly at Filip, who slumps down and sits on the floor, leaning back against a box.

He picks listlessly at the wound in his chest as blood pumps out, and his eyes flit about as he tries to say something.

46.

On his way to his piano lesson, Erik stops at the ICA supermarket next to the Globe. He knows Madeleine loves popcorn, so he's thinking of buying a few bags. As he walks through the shop he catches sight of his former patient, Nestor, in the dairy section. The tall, slim man is dressed in pressed trousers and a knitted grey sweater over a white shirt. His thin, clean-shaven face and small head with its white hair and side-parting look exactly the same as ever.

Nestor has seen him, and smiles in surprise, but Erik doesn't go over to talk to him, just waves from a distance and carries on through the shop.

He picks up some popcorn and is on his way towards the checkout when he sees a popcorn machine on special offer. He knows he has a tendency to go over the top, but it doesn't weigh much, and isn't particularly expensive.

When he emerges into the car park with his bags of corn and the popcorn machine, he catches sight of Nestor again. The tall man is waiting at the crossing, on his way towards the underground. He has six full bags of shopping by his sides. They're so heavy that he can only carry them a few metres at a time.

Erik opens the boot of his car and puts the box inside. He's sure Nestor hasn't spotted him. The shy man is muttering to himself as he picks up the bags, shuffles a few metres, then puts them down again.

Nestor is standing blowing into his thin hands as Erik goes up to him.

'That looks heavy,' he says.

'Erik? No, it's f-fine.' Nestor smiles.

'Where do you live? I'll give you a lift.'

'I don't want to be a nuisance,' he whispers.

'You're not,' Erik says, picking up four of the bags.

As Nestor gets in the car beside him, he repeats that he could have managed. Erik replies that he knows that, and pulls out slowly from his parking s.p.a.ce.

'Thanks for the coffee ... but you shouldn't be buying things for me,' Erik says.

'You saved m-my life,' Nestor replies quietly.

Erik recalls how Nestor's psychotic breakdown happened when his seriously ill dog had to be put down three years ago.

When he was allocated to Erik as a patient, Erik had read the notes from the secure psychiatric unit where Nestor had been admitted. He used to talk to dead people: a grey lady who brushed dandruff from her hair, and a mean old man who twisted his arms in different directions.

During Erik's conversations with him, it emerged that Nestor was fixated upon his dog's death. He talked a lot about the syringe being stuck in his right front paw, and how the fluid was injected. The dog shook and urine spread across the bench as its muscles relaxed. He felt he had been tricked by the vet and the vet's wife.

Nestor responded well to treatment, but when he tried to cut down his daily dose of Risperdal, he began hearing strange voices again.

Erik was never sure if had actually managed to hypnotise Nestor, he may have belonged to the small group who weren't receptive, but during those relaxed sessions in the dimly lit treatment room they did at least begin to get to grips with things.

Nestor had grown up with his mother, younger brother, and a black Labrador. When he was seven, his five-year-old brother became seriously ill with a lung infection, which exacerbated his already bad asthma. The boys' mother told Nestor that his brother would die unless they had the dog put down. Nestor took the dog to Sderbysjn and drowned it in a trunk full of stones.

But his brother died anyway.

In Nestor's mind, the two events became intertwined. He had always suffered from the belief that he had drowned his brother in a trunk, and had no memory of the dog.

They worked on his anger with his mother's damaging manipulation, and after a month he finally let go of the idea of his own guilt, and the notion that his mother could sometimes control his actions from beyond the grave.

Nestor was living normally again now, didn't need to take any medication, and was incredibly grateful to Erik.

They pa.s.s St Mark's Church in Bjrkhagen and pull up outside Axvallsvgen 53.

Nestor unbuckles his seat belt and Erik helps him carry his food to the door of his ground-floor flat.

'Thanks for everything,' the former patient says in a tremulous voice. 'I've got ice cream, and time to-'

'I need to get going,' Erik says.

'But I have to offer you s-something,' Nestor says, opening the door.

'Nestor, I've got an appointment.'

'Walk across the dead without a s-sound. Walk across the dead and hear their murmuring resound.'

'I haven't got time for riddles now,' Erik says, and walks out of the door of the building.

'Promise!' Nestor calls after him.

47.

Jackie and Madeleine are sitting together on the sofa eating popcorn while Erik tries to play his etude.

Madeleine says he's very good every time he makes a mistake. She's tired and her yawns are getting bigger and bigger.

Jackie tries to explain the quaver rests and the rhythmic pattern, and gets up and puts her right hand on top of his.

She asks him to start from the twenty-second bar with his left hand, then she suddenly falls silent, goes back to her daughter, and listens to her breathing.

'Could you manage to carry her to bed?' she asks. 'My elbow isn't up to it.'

Erik gets up from the piano and picks the child up. Jackie walks ahead of them, opens the door to the girl's room, turns the light out and pulls the covers back for Erik.

Erik carefully lays Madeleine down on her bed, and brushes the hair from her face.

Jackie tucks her daughter in and kisses her on the cheek, whispers something in her ear, and turns on the little pink nightlight on the bedside table.

Only now does Erik see that the walls of the child's bedroom are covered in rude words, curses and obscenities.

Some of the words are written in childish scribble in chalk, misspelled, whereas others are written in more confident handwriting. Erik presumes Madeleine must have been doing this for several years. Her mother is the only person unable to see what she's done.

'What is it?' Jackie says, noticing his silence.

'Nothing,' he says, closing the door gently behind him.

As they walk through the hall, Erik wonders if he should tell Jackie about what he saw, or just let it go.

'Should I leave?' Erik asks.

'I don't know,' Jackie replies.

She holds out her hands and feels his face, stroking his cheeks and chin.

'I'm just going to get some water,' she says hoa.r.s.ely, then goes into the kitchen and opens a cupboard.

He helps her, standing close to her, filling the gla.s.s and pa.s.sing it to her. She drinks, and then he kisses her cool mouth before she has time to wipe her chin.

They embrace, she stands on tiptoe and they kiss each other deeply, foreheads b.u.mping together.

Erik's hands slide over her back and hips. The fabric of her skirt has a peculiar texture, and rustles like thin paper.

She pulls away slightly, turns her face and puts one hand on his chest.

'We don't have to,' he says to her.