MemoRandom. Литагент HarperCollins USD

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      An hour and eight minutes left until the film was over, and around about … now, the message ought to have reached its recipient. Her chat status was green, so she was sitting in front of her computer at her pretend job. Her long lunch with her girlfriends would have ended an hour ago, the wine buzz would be fading, and it was still a bit too early to head home. Regardless of the money, Natalie couldn’t understand how anyone could bear to live that sort of fake life.

      She opened another tab on her browser and logged into a Western Union account. The balance was showing as zero, but that would soon change. She reached for her latte and leaned back in her chair, wondering about getting something to eat. She knew she shouldn’t. She had already exceeded her ration of points for the week. Maybe time to try the 5:2 diet instead?

      Her phone buzzed. A cellular number she didn’t recognize. She inserted her hands-free earpiece.

      ‘Hello,’ she said in a clipped tone of voice.

      ‘Hi, Natalie!’

      The man on the other end of the line sounded amused, as if she had already said something funny. Telesales manual, page one, heading ‘customer contact.’ She was about to hang up.

      ‘How did you catch him? Facebook? Instagram? Some other social network for the young and rich?’ the man said.

      ‘What?’ Natalie was taken aback.

      ‘Hans Wilhelm Sverre Wettergren-Dufwa, or Wippe to his family and friends.’

      Her brain locked for a couple of seconds, then her pulse started to race.

      ‘Side parting, Canada Goose jacket, Burberry scarf, final year at Östra Real high school,’ the man on the phone went on. ‘Registered as living at the family’s simple four-room pied-à-terre at Karlaplan. Daddy good for a few hundred million. And right now, little Wippe’s got his cock in your friend Elita Brogren’s mouth, over at Filmstaden.’

      Natalie leaped up from her chair and closed her laptop. She had to warn Elita, tell her to get out of there at once.

      ‘How much were you hoping to take Wippe’s mum for?’ the man said in her ear. ‘Two hundred, two hundred and fifty thousand? Or have you raised the rate?’

      Natalie grabbed her jacket and felt along the hands-free cord for the disconnect button.

      ‘Sit down, Natalie!’ The voice in her ear was suddenly very stern.

      She stopped and looked around quickly. The man was watching her from somewhere nearby. Maybe he was even inside the café. A cop, a private detective, maybe even a victim out for revenge? Whoever the man was, he liked playing games. Her heart was pumping like mad in her chest. She glanced at the exit.

      ‘Please, sit down, Natalie,’ the man said, somewhat more gently. ‘If I’d wanted to harm you, I’d hardly call to warn you in advance. All you have to do is listen.’

      Natalie hesitated. The most rational thing she could do was get out of there. But there was something in the man’s voice that told her she wouldn’t get very far. She pulled her chair out and sat down.

      ‘Good,’ the man went on. ‘The fact is, we’re impressed by you, Natalie. This whole idea is brilliant. You track down rich people’s children through social media, and use a fake profile to insinuate yourself into their network. Then you can just take your pick. You google the parents and have a word with your little admirer in the Tax Office until you find a suitable victim.’

      The amused tone was back in the man’s voice again. Natalie looked around cautiously, trying to figure out where he might be. And what the whole of this little game was about.

      ‘Rich but absent father, overprotective mother with too much time on her hands. Ideally the victim should be an only child, or at least the youngest. Mommy’s little darling, isn’t that right?’

      Natalie didn’t answer, just pressed the hands-free earpiece tighter into her ear as she tried to focus on the other people in the café. A man at the far end seemed to be talking on his cell phone.

      ‘You’re very careful with your choices,’ the man went on. ‘No celebrities or politicians, no Wallenbergs, H&M heirs, or anyone else who might be too rich and powerful. No, you focus on the ones just beneath them. Once you’ve identified the right victim, you get sexy Elita to pick him up. Hormones raging, the young man skips school to go off to the cinema one afternoon. After a bit of preliminary petting, Elita says she wants to spice things up a bit. She blindfolds him, and by this point the poor guy is practically bursting out of his Calvin Kleins, so he’s hardly going to protest. While he’s pulling faces in the dark with the blindfold on, you take a few pictures of his face.’

      Natalie looked around, but the man she had seen seemed to have hung up.

      ‘And while the lad’s dreams are all coming true in the cinema, you e-mail his mother. You tell her that her darling has been kidnapped, attaching a grainy picture of the crown prince wearing a blindfold, and tell her she’s got one hour. Pay up, or he gets hurt. Don’t call the police, we’re watching your every move, and all the other kidnap nonsense she’s familiar with from cop shows on television.’

      The man sounded amused, but Natalie wasn’t having any difficulty not laughing. Where was he, who was he, and how the hell could he know? She glanced toward the door again and wondered what would happen if she got up and left anyway. But the man seemed to know all about her. Trying to run might buy her a bit of time, but what could she do with it?

      ‘Obviously Mommy calls her little darling,’ the man went on. ‘But of course he doesn’t answer, because Elita’s made sure he’s switched his cell phone off. Then Mommy calls the school and finds out that junior isn’t there. She’s starting to panic now, and she calls her husband, but he’s away on business and probably isn’t the sort who answers when his wife calls. Time is running out, the deadline is approaching, and panic has really set in now.’ The man paused for a moment and Natalie realized she was holding her breath.

      ‘Then, all of a sudden, Mommy realizes that the amount you’re asking for isn’t actually that much. That she can buy her way out of this unpleasant situation in one go. The sort of people you pick on are, after all, used to solving all manner of problems with their wallets. And what’s a few hundred thousand on the Amex card when the crown prince’s life is at risk? So, within an hour, Mommy transfers the money to an anonymous Western Union account whose number you’ve given her. And after she’s sat there biting her nails for a good long while, the film ends and finally her little darling replies to one of her many anxious messages. She’s beside herself with relief. It takes her quite a time before her emotions settle down and she realizes that she’s actually paid for her naughty little boy’s very expensive afternoon blow job.’ The man chuckled again. ‘No one wants to make a fool of themselves in public, so after Daddy and the family lawyer have had a talk, everyone agrees to leave this unfortunate little incident behind them. No report to the police, no publicity, nothing.’ The line fell silent.

      ‘What do you want?’ Natalie’s voice wasn’t anywhere near as calm as she had been hoping it would be.

      ‘Open your laptop,’ the man said.

      ‘No way!’

      ‘Just do as I say, Natalie.’

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