Page 26 of The Sleepwalker (Joona Linna #10)

A research assistant in a pair of tinted glasses comes out to meet Joona and Erik in reception. Speaking softly, she leads them past a small pantry, down a corridor with shiny plastic flooring and through to the unit.

‘Office, office, day room, bedroom, cupboard, bedroom .?.?. And this is the suite,’ she says, opening a blue door. ‘You can go straight in. They’re waiting for you in the lounge.’

‘Thank you.’

Joona and Erik make their way down a hall to a brightly lit room where the TV screen is dark and the curtains are drawn.

Hugo has his long hair loose, and he is sitting in an armchair opposite a slim man with a bald head and a thin face. On the low coffee table between them, there are two glasses of water, a bowl of clementines and a pot of snus.

The man gets to his feet with a smile. He welcomes them and introduces himself as Lars, failing to mention that he is the senior doctor and lead researcher. His feet are pushed into a pair of loafers, and he is wearing a blue crewneck sweatshirt that brings out the pale colour of his eyes.

‘An honour,’ Lars says as he shakes Erik’s hand. ‘I’ve been following your work for many years. Very impressive.’

‘Thank you,’ Erik replies with warmth in his voice.

‘Our fields are very much siblings,’ Lars Grind continues, turning to Joona. ‘The word hypnosis actually stems from the ancient Greek for sleep.’

‘He used to be a lecturer,’ Hugo mumbles, scratching his tattooed forearm.

‘Hello again,’ says Joona.

They sit down, and Lars explains that the suite is designed to resemble a regular apartment, but that it has been specially adapted for sleepwalkers and fitted with motion detectors and cameras.

‘Everyone wants to know what’s going on up here,’ Hugo says, pointing to his own head. ‘I just wish you could crack a little hole with a spoon and have a look inside.’

‘Erik Maria Bark is probably the closest we can get to that,’ Lars Grind replies with a smile.

‘Sorry, I know you’ve driven all the way up here from Stockholm,’ says Hugo. ‘But I feel like I should say that I’m not sure I even believe in hypnosis.’

‘I hear that rather often,’ Erik says calmly.

‘But in truth, there isn’t much to believe in; this isn’t magic or spirituality.

Hypnosis is simply a tried and tested method of reaching a state of physical relaxation and mental focus.

Imagine going to the cinema and being so engrossed in the film that you forget you’re sitting in a dark room with a projector .

.?. Hypnosis is a bit like that, but rather than getting caught up in a film, you’re using your new-found concentration to dig deep in your memory. ’

*?*?*

Hugo leans back in his chair and decides that both Joona and Erik seem nice. They clearly have a lot riding on this, and he thinks he will be able to help them, but they definitely aren’t on his side. He can’t afford to forget that.

He knows that Joona hasn’t fully ruled him out as a suspect yet, and Erik almost seems to be quivering with anticipation at the prospect of hypnotising him. The man is practically salivating.

‘Where do you think will work best?’ asks Lars.

‘This will be just fine, if we can lower the lights a little,’ says Erik.

‘Don’t I need to lie down?’ asks Hugo.

‘Only if you want to, but anywhere where you’re sitting comfortably will do.’

‘OK .?.?. just don’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t work.’

Joona gets up and turns off the ceiling lights, then moves back over to the seating area and dims the floor lamp.

‘I want to emphasise that resistance is possible – this isn’t like anaesthesia,’ Erik begins. ‘Hypnosis requires a certain level of participation on your part, and it’s important that you’re participating willingly, that you know you can break the hypnosis at any moment.’

‘Let’s give it a try,’ Hugo says with a smile, pulling his long hair back in a ponytail.

‘I’ll be here the whole time, guiding you through the relaxation and deep focus.’

‘OK.’

‘Just sit comfortably, with both feet on the floor and your hands on the armrests,’ Erik continues in a warm voice.

‘Close your eyes and breathe calmly – in through your nose and out through your mouth .?.?. Steady, even .?.?. Feel the weight of your feet, completely relaxed, with your thighs resting on the cushion beneath you and your back against the chair .?.?.’

Hugo remembers having done something similar during PE class once, and he finds it interesting that he can shift his focus so easily between different parts of his body, really relaxing in the process.

He smirks slightly at the thought of how serious the three men around him are, how much faith they seem to place in hypnosis.

‘Feel your eyelids growing heavier with each breath you take.’

There is no escaping how funny the situation is, the fact that he is sitting in an armchair with his eyes closed, trying to do exactly as Erik tells him.

Erik calmly works his way through Hugo’s body and gets him to relax his face. No smile, no gritted teeth or furrowed brow.

‘Just listen to my voice,’ he says softly. ‘You don’t need to worry about anything else right now .?.?. You are in a state of deep relaxation, and if you hear anything other than my voice then just let it pass you by. Become even more relaxed and focused on what I say.’

Hugo realises that Erik’s warm, low voice feels like an embrace, and he enjoys the slight dryness to it. Maybe he was a smoker, he thinks. Or maybe it’s just his age.

‘I’m going to count backwards from one hundred now, and all you need to do is listen carefully to every number. With each one you hear, I want you to breathe out and sink deeper into relaxation .?.?. Ninety-nine, ninety-eight .?.?.’

At first, Hugo thinks he might be doing it all wrong, but he decides he doesn’t care. He finds his own pace and notices that his breathing quickly falls into sync with the doctor’s countdown.

‘You’re comfortable now,’ Erik continues.

‘You’re focused on my voice, on the descending numbers, and I’d like you to imagine that you’re making your way down a long staircase .

.?. With every number you hear, you take another step, becoming increasingly relaxed and calm.

Seventy-seven, seventy-six, seventy-five . .?.’

Hugo tries to follow the instructions as best he can, imagining the stairs at home, various grand hotel staircases with red carpets, but before long he realises he has started to picture a spiral staircase he has never seen before.

It is made from pale-grey metal, and it leads straight down into the earth.

Moving in time with his breathing and the doctor’s words, he makes his way down. He takes cautious steps, but the entire structure shakes softly each time.

‘You’re continuing down the stairs, step by step. Sixty-four, sixty-three .?.?.’

Hugo puts a hand on the banister, trying to focus on the voice as he walks. He imagines that the spiral staircase has begun to turn, like some sort of drill to the underworld.

‘Fifty-eight, fifty-seven .?.?.’

He sees a dirty handprint on the rail and starts moving more quickly, though his breathing is getting calmer. It feels as though he is being sucked downwards. The metal steps clang with each step, reverberating into the deep.

‘You’re still going down, and with each step you take you’ll become a little more relaxed, a little more focused on my voice .?.?. Forty-three, forty-two .?.?.’

Hugo has started running, clinging onto the banister, and can feel the centrifugal force from the centre column. The brackets have begun to shake, and he can see sand trickling down the shaft, like the steady flow in an hourglass.

Erik’s counting has slowed, but Hugo is now hurtling downwards, and it feels as though the countdown will never end.

‘Fourteen .?.?. thirteen,’ the doctor’s monotone voice continues. ‘When I get to zero, you will be at home in your bed on the twenty-sixth of November .?.?. You’re relaxed and able to calmly observe everything you see. Nothing here is dangerous. Twelve, eleven .?.?.’

Hugo focuses on Erik’s voice and loses contact with his body as he throws himself down the stairs four at a time.

‘Three, two .?.?. one .?.?. zero. You are now lying in your bed on the twenty-sixth of November.’

Hugo stops dead on the spiral staircase and closes his eyes.

‘It’s around one in the morning, and you are asleep, but something makes you open your eyes.’

He does as he is told and stares out into the darkness in his pale-blue room. The blind is closed, revealing its familiar pattern of a starry sky.

His heart is pounding.

Hugo has been lying perfectly still in bed with his hands clamped over his mouth, trying to remain hidden. But the gunfire has now stopped, and the screams have faded.

The platoon has left the house.

With their rattling automatic rifles and barked commands, they stomped down the stairs and headed back out to their black SUVs.

Only the leader is still here, and Hugo knows that they need to escape.

Mum and Dad have emptied their bank accounts and transferred all of their savings.

Hugo quietly gets out of bed, tiptoes over to the doorway on trembling legs and peers out into the hall. He sees his father on his knees, tearfully trying to explain that he has given them everything he has, but the skeleton man isn’t listening; he wants more.

‘There’s some money and a bit of gold in the cupboard in the attic,’ says Mum. ‘Not much, but—’

The skeleton man hits his father in the head with a spade. His mother screams and her voice breaks. The blows continue, gradually becoming sluggish, the sound wetter.

‘He’s hitting him over and over,’ says Hugo, his voice barely audible. ‘There’s so much blood.’

‘Who is?’ asks Erik.

‘The ske-le-ton .?.?.’

Hugo pulls back when the skeleton man leaves his parents’ room, dragging the spade behind him as he starts climbing the stairs to the attic.

The blade clanks dully against each step.

Hugo hurries out of his room and down the hallway, meeting his mother’s eye through the window in the middle door.

There is a loud crack as the skeleton man uses the spade to force open the old wooden cabinet in the attic.

His mother waves for him to come towards her.

‘Where are you?’ Erik asks softly.

‘I .?.?. I don’t want to,’ Hugo replies, licking his lips.

His mother is confused, with flecks of blood all over her face. He grips her hand and pulls her towards the stairs down to the library.

‘Are you still at home?’ asks Erik.

‘Mum can’t get the front door open,’ Hugo whispers. ‘I don’t want to die, we need to get out .?.?. We need to run, to hide and—’

‘Hugo, listen to me now. Listen to my voice,’ says Erik.

‘This is just a dream – a dream you can control .?.?. You are standing in the hallway and you want to run outside, but instead you stay where you are. Find your way back to that steady breathing again. In through your nose, out through your mouth .?.?. None of this is really dangerous. You’re perfectly safe, and you can turn around without needing to be scared. ’

‘I can hear the spade hitting the tiles behind me.’

‘Turn around.’

‘Mum opens the door and runs .?.?.’