Joona Linna Crime Series Books 1-3: The Hypnotist, The Nightmare, The Fire Witness. Lars KeplerЧитать онлайн книгу.
would have to start winding down both the research and the therapy. So far, I hadn’t had time to start feeling nervous. I went over to the sink and rinsed my face, then stood for a while looking at myself in the mirror and trying to summon up a smile before I left the bathroom. As I was locking the door of my office, a young woman stopped in the corridor just a few steps away.
“Erik Maria Bark?”
Her dark, thick hair was caught up in a knot at the back of her neck, and when she smiled at me, deep dimples appeared in her cheeks. She looked happy and smelled of hyacinth, of tiny flowers. She was wearing a doctor’s coat, and her badge indicated that she was an intern.
“Maja Swartling,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m one of your greatest admirers.”
“I’m honoured,” I said.
“I’d love to have the opportunity to work with you while I’m here,” she said, with an uncommon directness I found appealing.
“Work with me?”
She nodded and blushed. “I find your research to be incredibly exciting.”
“Frankly, I don’t even know if there’s going to be any more research,” I explained. “I hope the board of directors is as enthusiastic as you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“My funding only lasts until the end of the year.” My imminent appearance before the board suddenly loomed up. “Right now I have an important meeting.”
Maja jumped to one side. “I’m sorry,” she said. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, smiling at her. “Walk me to the lift.”
She blushed again and we set off together. “Do you think there’ll be a problem renewing your funding?” she asked anxiously.
The usual procedure was for the applicant to talk about his or her research—results, targets, and time frame—but I always found it difficult, because no matter how meticulously I presented my case, I knew I’d inevitably run into difficulties because of the pervasive prejudice against hypnosis.
“If psychotherapy is a soft science, Maja, hypnosis is even softer. By its very nature, even the most exhaustive research in the field leads to relatively inconclusive results,” I said.
“But if they read all your reports, the most amazing patterns are emerging. Even if it is too early to publish anything.”
“You’ve read all my reports?” I asked sceptically.
“There are certainly plenty of them,” she replied dryly.
We stopped at the lift.
“What do you think about my ideas relating to engrams?” I said, to test her.
“You’re thinking about the patient with the injured skull?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to hide my surprise.
“Interesting,” she said. “The fact that you’re going against conventional wisdom on the way memory is dispersed throughout the brain.”
“Any thoughts of your own on the subject?”
“I think you should intensify your research into the synapses and concentrate on the amygdala.”
“I’m impressed,” I said, pressing the button for the lift.
“You have to get the funding.”
“I know.”
“What happens if they say no?”
“If I’m lucky, I’ll be given enough time to wind down the therapy and help my patients into other forms of treatment.”
“And your research?”
I shrugged. “I could apply to other universities, see if anyone would take me.”
“Do you have enemies on the board?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
She placed her hand gently on my arm and smiled apologetically. Her cheeks flushed even more. “I know I’m speaking out of turn. But you will get the money, because your work is ground-breaking.” She looked hard at me. “And if they can’t see that, I’ll talk to them. All of them.”
Suddenly I wondered if she was flirting with me. There was something about her obsequiousness, that soft, husky voice. I glanced quickly at her badge to be sure of her name: maja swartling, intern.
“Maja—”
“I’m not easily put off, you know,” she said playfully. “Erik Maria Bark.”
“We’ll discuss this another time,” I said, as the lift doors slid open.
Maja Swartling smiled, revealing dimples; she brought her hands together beneath her chin, bowed deeply and mischievously, and said softly, “Sawadee.”
I realised I was smiling at the Thai greeting as I took the lift up to the director’s office.
Despite the fact that the door was open, I knocked before entering the conference room. Annika Lorentzon was there already, gazing out the picture window at the fantastic view, far out across Northern Cemetery and Haga Park.
“Just gorgeous,” I said.
Annika Lorentzo smiled calmly at me. She was tanned and slim. Once, her beauty had made her runner-up in the Miss Sweden contest, but now a fine network of lines had formed beneath her eyes and on her forehead. She didn’t smell of perfume but rather of cleanliness; a faint hint of exclusive soap surrounded her.
“Mineral water?” she asked, waving in the direction of several bottles.
I shook my head and noticed for the first time that we were alone in the conference room. The others ought to have gathered by now, I thought; my watch showed that the meeting should have begun five minutes earlier.
Annika stood up and explained, as if she’d read my mind, “They’ll be here, Erik. They’ve all gone for a sauna.” She gave a wry smile. “It’s one way of having a meeting without me. Clever, eh?”
At that moment the door opened and five men with bright red faces came in. The collars of their suits were damp from wet hair and wet necks, and they were exuding steamy heat and aftershave.
“Although of course my research is going to be expensive,” I heard Ronny Johansson say.
“Obviously,” Svein Holstein replied, sounding worried.
“It’s just that Bjarne was rambling on about how they were going to start cutting. The finance boys want to slash the research budget right across the board.”
The conversation died away as they came into the room.
Svein Holstein gave me a firm handshake.
Ronny Johansson, the pharmaceutical representative on the board, just waved half-heartedly at me as he took his seat, while at the same time the local government politician, Peter Mälarstedt, took my hand. He smiled at me, puffing and panting, and I noticed he was still perspiring.
Frank Paulsson barely met my eye; he simply gave me the briefest of nods and then stayed on the far side of the room. Everyone chatted for a while, pouring out glasses of mineral water and admiring the view. For one crystal moment I observed them: these people who held the fate of my research in their hands. They were as sleek, well-groomed, and savvy as my patients were awkward, shabby, and inarticulate. Yet my patients were contained in this moment. Their memories, experiences, and all they had suppressed lay like curls of smoke trapped motionless inside this glass bubble.
Annika softly clapped her hands and invited everyone to take their seats around the conference