The Disciple by Michael Hjorth Read Free Book Online Page B

The sex. Last night it had been Ellinor, the night before and tomorrow someone else. The empty apartment. The empty life. He had to do something. Anything. Change things. He took out his mobile and keyed in the number.
    Trolle answered almost right away.
    ‘I was just wondering when you were going to call,’ a hoarse, sleepy voice said.
    ‘I’ve had things to do,’ Sebastian replied as he started to walk away from Vanja’s building with the phone pressed to his ear. ‘I’ve been away.’
    ‘Don’t lie to me. You’ve been following her. The daughter.’
    Sebastian stiffened for a second before he realised that Trolle was referring to Valdemar’s daughter. Of course.
    ‘How do you know that?’
    ‘Because I’m better than you.’ It seemed to Sebastian that he could hear his former colleague smiling smugly on the other end of the line.
    ‘I didn’t ask you to check her out,’ Sebastian said crossly.
    ‘I know, but I’m thorough. An old-school cop.’
    ‘Did you find out anything?’
    ‘This and that. But no dirt. The old man seems to be a paragon of virtue.’ Trolle paused, and Sebastian could hear him riffling through papers which in all probability were in a heap in front of him.
    ‘His name is Ernst Valdemar Lithner. Born in Gothenburg in 1953. Started off at Chalmers, then changed to economics. Married Anna Eriksson in 1981; she didn’t take his surname, by the way. No ex-wives or other children. No police record. Worked as an accountant for some years, then had a change of heart in ’97 and did a few different things – everything from bookkeeping to tax advice. He must have made good money, because he paid the deposit on Vanja’s apartment and bought a big summer place in Vaxholm the following year. No lovers that I can discover, male or female, but I’ve got someone hacking into his computer, so we’ll see. He got sick last year.’
    ‘What do you mean, sick?’
    ‘Some kind of cell mutation in the lungs. Cancer, the thing that gets us all in the end. What did your mother die of ?’
    Sebastian didn’t even respond to the implication that Trolle had clearly spent some time checking out him as well as Lithner over the last couple of weeks. He shivered in spite of the heat. Valdemar had cancer? That couldn’t be right. The man who had stolen his daughter seemed to be full of life. Perhaps it was just a mask he assumed when he was with Vanja, making an effort for her sake.
    ‘He’s been in remission since the spring,’ Trolle went on. ‘Whatever that’s worth. My contact hasn’t managed to get hold of his notes, but he’s only booked in for normal follow-up appointments, so he must be out of danger.’
    Sebastian grunted with disappointment.
    ‘Okay . . . anything else?’
    ‘Not really. But I’ve only just started. I can dig much deeper if you want me to.’
    Sebastian thought about it. This was worse than he had imagined. Not only was Valdemar loved by his daughter, he had just survived cancer. A saint who had returned to his family from death’s waiting room.
    Sebastian didn’t have a chance. It was over.
    ‘No, there’s no need. Thanks anyway.’
    He ended the call.
    So much for that particular plan.

His third day in the job. He had finally got hold of one of those machines that allowed you to print out labels and self-adhesive strips, and he was now standing in the corridor in front of the metal plate which indicated that this room was the domain of the governor. He removed the protective strip from the back of the printed label and stuck it on the door. It was a bit crooked, but it didn’t matter. It was perfectly legible. Governor Thomas Haraldsson.
    He stepped back and looked at the sign with a contented little smile.
    A new job.
    A new life.
    He had applied for the post several months ago, but hadn’t really expected to get it. Not that he wasn’t well qualified, but it had been a period in his life when nothing was going his way. Things were bad at work; he