Page 13 of The Sleepwalker (Joona Linna #10)

The roar of the traffic on Sodert?ljev?gen fades slightly as Hugo rounds the corner of the grubby nougat-coloured apartment complex, enters the code and makes his way inside.

He stands quietly for a moment in the dim stairwell outside Olga’s door, undoes his coat and pushes his long hair back from his face.

The cold air has left his cheeks rosy and his nose red.

Hugo raises a hand and presses the tip of his index finger to the worn buzzer. He hears the shrill sound through the letterbox, followed by her shuffling footsteps on the linoleum floor.

The lock clicks, and the handle turns.

‘Hugo?’ she says, her face tense. ‘You can’t just show up here like this. You have to ring before you—’

‘I know, I’m sorry, but I was about to lose my shit at home. I had to get out .?.?. and then I got scared you’d say no if I called.’

She smiles at him, but the tension from a moment ago is still lingering in her eyes.

‘I never say no to you, do I? But I have a life, a job, things that need doing.’

‘Do you want me to go?’

‘I’m not saying I’m not happy to see you, because I am,’ she says, her tone a little warmer now, leaning in to hug him.

Hugo takes off his boots and puts them on the shoe rack, then hangs up his coat and turns to look at her.

Olga will be thirty-six in January, but she is only five foot one, with defined muscles and a slender neck.

She has wavy, dyed blonde hair and an unusually symmetrical face.

Her makeup is always flawless, and she wears silver studs in her brow, nose and both ears.

She is barefoot in her slippers, and is wearing a pair of black leather trousers and a white, unbuttoned blouse. Her tattooed arms and bare breasts almost seem to be glowing through the thin fabric.

‘So, how was jail?’ she asks.

‘Pretty OK.’

She leans back and studies him with a wry smile. ‘You’re a tough guy now, huh?’

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘No.’ She laughs.

Hugo follows her through to the kitchen.

She has a heraldic tattoo of an eagle wearing a golden crown between her shoulder blades, garlands of flowering vines on both arms.

On the kitchen table, there is an empty wineglass beside her laptop. The air is heavy with the scent of garlic, cumin and fennel from the cast-iron pot on the stove.

‘Have you eaten?’ she asks.

‘No, but don’t worry.’

‘It’s still hot.’

Olga sits down at the table, closes her laptop and puts it on the windowsill, beside a potted fern. Hugo carries the pan over to the table, then takes out a plate and some cutlery. He grabs himself a wineglass, pulls a napkin from the holder and sets it down beside his plate.

‘On the left,’ she says.

He moves the napkin to the other side, takes the bottle of wine out of the fridge, pops the cork and refills her glass.

‘Thanks.’

Hugo pours himself a drink, then sits down and dishes some of the dal onto his plate.

‘So, what’s going on at home?’ she asks.

‘I can’t even .?.?. It’s like Dad is always trying to correct me when Agneta is around, and it’s so fucking annoying, I .?.?. God .?.?.’

She watches him as he starts eating.

‘You might end up being kicked out if you’re not careful.’

‘Legally, Dad has to support me while I’m still studying.’

‘And are you?’

‘You want to know if I’m keeping up with my studies?’ he asks with a smirk.

‘It’s important.’

‘Man, I’ve got so many mums these days!’

Olga laughs and leans back in her chair, making her blouse fall open. The fabric catches on the silver rings in her nipples.

‘Which one do you like best?’ she asks.

‘Seriously, though .?.?. just talking to Agneta makes me feel like I’m betraying my actual mum.’

‘It was your mum who betrayed you, not the other way around .?.?. She chose the drugs, and—’

‘It’s an illness.’

‘I know that, but still .?.?. You’re both going to feel this betrayal when you meet, at least at first.’

Their plan is to fly to Montréal, rent a car and drive to Claire’s family home in the small community of Le Grand-Village.

If she no longer lives there, they figure they will probably be able to find someone who knows where she is.

Olga has explained that they will have to approach Claire slowly, that it is important for Hugo to show he hasn’t come to ask anything of her, nor to accuse or blame her; simply that he wants to start over and get to know her again, reconnect as an adult.

‘You should demand compensation from the police for locking you up for no reason,’ she says, swirling the wine in her glass.

‘Nah, I don’t care.’

‘It could help pay for the trip, though.’

‘I saw that you’d added more money,’ Hugo says, putting down his cutlery.

‘Yeah, a bit.’

It bothers him that she no longer treats herself to anything, that she saves all the money she can spare for his sake.

‘We have to live in the now, too,’ he says.

‘We do. I think we do. It’s just .?.?. at this rate, we’re not going to have enough.’

‘I know, and I’ll sort it. I’ll get hold of my share.’

‘I have a few other things on the go, too. At the club. They might bring in a bit more.’

Hugo fiddles with the silver coin he wears around his neck and thinks about the fact that he hasn’t told his father about his plans.

He knows that Bernard will probably be upset on Agneta’s behalf, but that he will also tell him he is doing the right thing.

In truth, he would probably offer to help fund the trip, maybe even ask to tag along, but Hugo feels strongly that this is something he needs to do on his own, that it is all about him and his mum.

‘Tell me about the caravan again .?.?. it was kind of hard to keep up over the phone,’ Olga says, taking a sip of her wine.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘You woke up there and .?.?.?’

Hugo shakes his head.

‘It all happened so fucking fast. I was dreaming about the skeleton man again, and then there was this loud bang. The cop had shot the floor right in front of me, and then they dragged me out. Cuffed me, frisked me, all that crap. I didn’t really see everything, but there was so much blood, a chopped-off arm.

It was crazy .?.?. And then they took me to jail and someone from forensics showed up for my clothes and a load of other stuff .

.?. You know, scraping under my nails, a pee sample, blood, hair. ’

‘Because they thought you were the one who’d done it?’

‘Guess that’s not so weird, really. I mean, it was kind of hard to explain what I was doing there. I’d been sleepwalking, but why there ? I dunno. I used to hang out at the campsite all the time, but I don’t really know what they were thinking.’

‘Does this mean you’re having one of those episodes you told me about?’

‘Seems like it. I talked to my doctor.’

‘Dr Grind?’

‘He wants me to go to the lab for a few nights, as soon as I can, so he can check whether there’s anything new going on in this sweet brain of mine, but I don’t feel like I’ve got time right now.’

‘Imagine if he’s been programming a bunch of sleepwalkers to kill people,’ Olga says, topping up their glasses.

‘Crazy good plan.’

‘I think so,’ she replies, trying to hold back a smile.

‘It would explain everything.’

‘He could be doing it for the military or the Security Service .?.?. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to let you sleep over now. I mean .?.?. what if you slice me open in your sleep?’ she says.

‘Don’t say that.’

When Hugo finishes eating, Olga opens her laptop while he clears and wipes the table and does the washing up. Once he is done, he leans back against the counter and watches her until she looks up.

‘What?’

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he says.

‘Maybe you’d like to show Olga everything you’ve learned so far?’ she says, getting up.

‘Now?’

‘Unless you’ve got other plans?’

She kicks off her slippers and stands on tiptoe as he kisses her and caresses her breasts beneath her blouse.

Seven months ago, Olga started commenting on Hugo’s posts on social media, and they met at a bar and began a no-strings relationship.

She immediately took it upon herself to give him an education in sex, teaching him that he needs to shave before he goes down on a woman and that the clitoris isn’t just the little nub visible on the outside, but a large area in and around the vagina.

He remembers her matter-of-factly explaining that everything men have, women have too, and vice versa, but that a woman’s glans is five times more sensitive and shouldn’t be touched right away.

‘When the time is right, when you can see that she’s ready .?.?. lightly kiss that whole area. Lick it gently,’ she said. ‘Take it easy, pay attention and let her guide you, and it’ll be great.’

Olga kisses his throat and whispers that they should take things through to the bedroom, unbuttoning her trousers and tugging them down along with her knickers.

The thin fabric of her blouse flutters around her as she walks. She has the name Jacek tattooed on her right buttock, a tribute to her first boyfriend, but she has promised to have it removed as soon as she has the time and money.

Hugo follows her out into the living room, where the long burgundy curtains are drawn over the window and the balcony door. Beside the sofa, there is a small brass drinks trolley – something she found in a dumpster and restored herself – cluttered with bottles of Polish vodka and cherry liqueur.

They make their way down the hall, past the bathroom and into the bedroom.

There is a pillar candle burning on the shabby chest of drawers, and the wax is glowing, the flame flickering anxiously.

Olga tosses her blouse onto a stool, pulls back the covers and lies down, naked, in the bed. She has her ankles crossed, her hands folded beneath her head.

The candlelight dances slowly over her body.

Hugo quickly gets undressed, crawls on top of her and parts her thighs. He kisses the smooth skin between her legs and looks up. Olga smiles at him and adjusts the pillow beneath her head.

‘You found your way, my sweet prince .?.?.’

He caresses her with his tongue until she pushes his head away, rolls onto her stomach and gets up onto all fours.

Hugo enters her from behind, thrusting slowly as she strokes herself with one hand.

‘Don’t stop,’ she whispers.

Looking down, Hugo sees the name Jacek trembling with every pump. He speeds up, causing the coin on the chain around his neck to thud against his chest. He hears her quickening breaths and notices the sweat glistening on her back.

The flame in the candle tilts, and its glow flickers up the wall behind the bed.

Olga lets out a long, low moan and slumps onto her stomach. Hugo tries to keep going, but she rolls over onto her side. Her thighs are trembling, and she is panting, both hands cupped between her legs. After a moment or two, she turns onto her back, her body relaxed. She looks up at him.

‘êtes-vous fatigué?’ she asks with a smile.

She parts her thighs again, and Hugo gets on top of her and pushes inside. He feels a kind of youthful despair as he nears climax, and as ever, she lets him come inside her.