Watching You(32)

‘Did you and Charles have a sexual relationship?’

‘I don’t know …’

‘Of course you know, Nathalie. Did you have sex?’

‘Yes …’

‘What sort of sex?’

‘I don’t know … Quite … hard …’

‘How do you mean? Did he tie you up? Did he hit you?’

‘A bit …’

‘A bit? Were you a virgin when you got out of the clinic?’

No answer.

He went on: ‘So that was it? You didn’t know what sex was. You thought it was supposed to be like that. That he was supposed to hit you. And give you orders. That’s it, isn’t it? He dominated you.’

No answer this time either. Was he losing contact?

‘What happened the first time he dominated you?’

‘How do you mean?’

Yes. A response. Some sort of response. ‘What did he want you to do, Nathalie?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘We have two choices, Nathalie. Either we go into detail about what you did in the bedroom, and then you’ll have to describe everything in great detail, no matter how intimate or embarrassing it is. Or we talk about what he ordered you to do outside the bedroom. Which would you prefer?’

‘The second option.’

‘Fine,’ Berger said. ‘What was the first thing he wanted you to do? If we ignore sex?’

‘Cycle to a particular place at a particular time.’

‘Did he say why?’

‘If I was anywhere nearby it would be easy to find. There would be flashing blue lights, and I should follow them.’

‘Did he say why?’

‘No.’

‘Did you understand why?’

‘No.’

Berger leaned back.

In his ear he heard a perfectly timed voice: ‘Don’t touch you ear this time, Sam. I’ve got Cary here. So you know what’s at stake.’

Cary? Berger thought. Who the hell is Cary?

‘The sound technician,’ a male voice explained. ‘Comprehensive voice analysis shows that there’s a ninety-eight per cent probability that Nathalie Fredén made the call about the house in M?rsta under the name Lina Vikstr?m.’

Berger sat quietly and let both the conversation and the information sink in. In the end he thought: Yes, Deer, I understand what’s at stake.

But he said: ‘The first time wasn’t V?ster?s, was it?’

He pushed the picture of the bikers’ clubhouse towards Fredén. She looked at it but said nothing.

He went on: ‘There were more than three occasions, weren’t there? More than three kidnapped fifteen-year-old girls?’

‘I don’t know anything about any kidnapped girls.’

‘I didn’t think you did. I thought you were just remote-controlled by your master, an empty shell. But now I know better. When was the first time?’

‘I don’t keep track of time.’

‘But there was at least one occasion before V?ster?s. V?ster?s was in March, a year and a half ago. It was winter, a biker gang’s clubhouse. You said your name on television. Do you remember?’

‘Yes.’

‘But V?ster?s wasn’t the first time Charles told you to cycle out to the country to stand by a police cordon. When was the first time?’

‘I don’t know. It was summer.’

‘Summer. And where was it?’

‘I don’t remember. Closer to Stockholm.’

‘Try to remember. It’s important.’

Nathalie Fredén paused. A real pause, as if to think properly. ‘Sollentuna.’

In Berger’s ear Deer said: ‘We’re on it.’

Berger took a deep breath. ‘Can you describe what happened on that occasion?’

‘Charles told me to cycle there.’

‘What did he say exactly?’

‘I can’t remember that.’

‘I think you can. Try. It was the first time. Didn’t you wonder why?’

‘Yes. But I wasn’t allowed to ask.’

‘You just had to do what Charles said?’

‘Yes, that’s what we’d agreed.’

‘And what were you supposed to do there?’

‘I just had to stand and watch.’

‘And whereabouts was it? Do you remember where in Sollentuna?’

‘There were big blocks of flats, lots of big blocks of flats. Flashing blue lights in the car park below. They’d cordoned it off. That’s where I stood. Not much happened.’

‘Lots of big block of flats? Malmv?gen? Stupv?gen?’

‘I don’t know the name of the street.’

‘Do you remember how you got there? Did you cycle alongside the railway line? Under the motorway?’

‘It was over two years ago.’

‘You said you don’t keep track of time.’

‘Yes, beside the railway, under the motorway, up a hill. Then away from the railway. A roundabout. Two. It wasn’t far after that.’

‘Stupv?gen,’ Berger said. ‘The shopping centre at Helenelund. That fits with the car park under the blocks of flats.’