Stalker. Ларс Кеплер

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ just a case of documenting what I do,’ Erik replies. ‘And I’d rather not have to be taking notes the whole time.’

      ‘OK,’ Björn says, as though he hadn’t really listened to Erik’s reply.

      ‘You can start by lying down on the sofa,’ Erik says as he goes over to the window and draws the curtains.

      The room fills with a pleasant semi-darkness, and Björn lies back and shuffles down a little, then closes his eyes. Erik sits down on a chair, moves closer to him, and sees how tense he is. Thoughts are still racing through his head, as different impulses tug at his body.

      ‘Breathe slowly through your nose,’ Erik says. ‘Relax your mouth, your chin and cheeks … feel the back of your head lying with all its weight on the pillow, feel your neck relax … you don’t need to hold your head up now, because your head is resting on the pillow … Your jaw muscles are relaxing, your forehead is smooth and untroubled, your eyelids are feeling heavier …’

      Erik takes his time, and moves through the whole body, from Björn’s head to his toes, then back up to his weary eyelids and the weight of his head again.

      With soporific monotony, Erik slips into the induction, speaking in a falling tone of voice as he tries to gather his strength in advance of what is coming.

      Björn’s body gradually begins to exhibit an almost cataleptic relaxation. A mental trauma can lead to increased receptivity to hypnosis, as if the brain were longing for a fresh command, a way out of an unsustainable state.

      ‘The only thing you’re listening to is my voice … if you hear anything else, it only makes you feel more relaxed, and more focused on my words … I’m about to start counting backwards, and for each number you hear, you’ll relax a bit more.’

      Erik thinks about what’s coming, what’s waiting inside the house, what Björn saw when he walked in through the door: the illuminated moment when the shock hit with full force.

      ‘Nine hundred and twelve,’ he says quietly. ‘Nine hundred and eleven …’

      With each exhalation Erik says a number, slowly and monotonously. After a while he breaks the logical sequence, but still carries on the countdown. Björn is now down at a perfect depth. The sharp frown on his brow has relaxed and his mouth looks softer. Erik counts, and sinks into hypnotic resonance with a curious shiver in his stomach.

      ‘Now you’re deeply relaxed … you’re resting nice and calmly,’ Erik says slowly. ‘Soon you’re going to revisit your memories of Friday night … When I finish counting down to zero, you will be standing outside your house, but you’re completely calm, because there’s no danger … Four, three, two, one … Now you’re standing in the street outside your house, the taxi is driving away, the tyres are crunching on the grit covering the tarmac …’

      Björn opens his eyes, his eyes gleaming, but his gaze is focused inward, into his memories, and his heavy eyelids close once more.

      ‘Are you looking at the house now?’

      Björn is standing in the cool night air in front of his house. A strange glow is lighting up the sky in time with the slow rhythm of his heartbeat. It looks like the house is leaning forward as the light expands and the shadows withdraw.

      ‘It’s moving,’ he says almost inaudibly.

      ‘Now you’re walking up to the door,’ Erik says. ‘The night air is mild, there’s nothing unpleasant …’

      Björn starts as some jackdaws fly up from a tree. They’re visible against the sky, their shadows move across the grass, and then they’re gone.

      ‘You’re perfectly safe,’ Erik says as he sees Björn’s hand move anxiously over the seat of the sofa.

       15

      Deep in his trance, Björn slowly approaches the door. He keeps to the stone path, but something about the black shimmer of the window catches his attention.

      ‘You’ve reached the door, you take your key out and put it in the lock,’ Erik says.

      Björn carefully pushes the handle, but the door is stuck. He tries harder, and there’s a sticky sound when it eventually opens.

      Erik sees that Björn’s brow is sweating, and repeats in a soothing voice that there’s nothing to be scared of.

      Björn tries to open his eyes and whisper something. Erik leans forward, and feels his breath against his ear.

      ‘The doorstep … something odd about it …’

      ‘Yes, this doorstep has always been odd,’ Erik replies calmly. ‘But once you’ve crossed it, everything will be just as it was on Friday.’

      Erik notes that the whole of Björn’s face is covered with a sheen of sweat as his chin begins to tremble.

      ‘No, no,’ he whispers, shaking his head.

      Erik realises that he needs to put him in deeper hypnosis if he’s to be able to enter the house.

      ‘All you have to do now is listen to my voice,’ Erik says. ‘Because soon you’ll be in an even more relaxed state, and there’s nothing to be worried about there … You’re sinking deeper as I count: four … you’re sinking, three … getting calmer, two … one, and now you’re completely relaxed, and can see that the doorstep isn’t any sort of barrier …’

      Björn’s face is slack, his mouth is hanging open, one corner wet with saliva: he’s in a deeper state of hypnosis than Erik had intended.

      ‘If you feel ready, you can … cross the threshold now.’

      Björn doesn’t want to, he’s thinking that he doesn’t want to, but he still takes a step into the hall. His looks along the corridor towards the kitchen. Everything is the same as usual, there’s an advertisement from Bauhaus on the doormat, too many shoes piled up on the shoe-rack, the umbrella that always falls over does so again, and his keys jangle as he puts them on the chest of drawers.

      ‘Everything is the same as usual,’ he whispers. ‘The same as …’

      He falls silent when he notices a strange, rolling movement from the corner of his eye. He daren’t turn to look in that direction, and stares straight ahead while something moves at the edge of his field of vision.

      ‘There’s something strange … off to the side … I …’

      ‘What did you say?’ Erik asks.

      ‘It’s moving, off to the side …’

      ‘OK, just let it go,’ Erik replies. ‘Look straight ahead and keep going.’

      Björn walks through the hall, but his eyes keep getting drawn to the side, towards the clothes hanging in the porch. They’re moving slowly in the gloom, as if a wind were blowing through the house. The sleeves of Susanna’s trenchcoat lift in a gust, then fall back.

      ‘Look СКАЧАТЬ