The woman glanced at the simple drawing, poised to hand it back without much thought and walk off with her guests. But instead, she froze mid-movement and looked from him to the sketch and back a few times before turning to the waiting group. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re going to have get started without me. I’ll join you as soon as I can.’

The others nodded and left.

‘Is that Wessman’s?’ She glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure no one had lingered.

‘So you recognize it?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve actually never seen it before. But I’ve heard rumours. Are you sure it’s Wessman’s? Because I have no recollection of her having a tattoo.’

‘Tell me about the rumours.’

‘At least, that’s what I assume they are. Like that he comes to this club. Sometimes, he’s even been said to be in several places at once. But as I said, I always figured that was just a gimmick to draw people in.’

‘But now you don’t know any more.’

The woman shook her head, still staring at the drawing.

‘And who is this legend?’

‘I first heard about him about two years ago. He calls himself Columbus. No one knows who he really is, but a lot of people would give up everything for a night with him.’

‘Why?’

Only now did she tear her eyes away from the napkin and meet his eyes. ‘Rumour has it, it’s like losing your virginity a second time. Like meeting a virtuoso who can push anyone beyond the limits. And who doesn’t want that?’

‘What limits?’

‘Their own. Who else’s?’

Molander had, in other words, not been too wide of the mark when he’d guessed the tattoo was a version of the Physical Barrier Border Crossing icon. ‘And what about you?’ he said and took the napkin from her. ‘How much would you give up for one night?’

‘The last thing I need is to venture beyond more limits. Besides, I’m an advocate for a varied diet.’

‘Varied diet?’

‘I’m sure it’s just a rumour, like the other thing. But when he’s done with you, you supposedly belong to him alone.’

51

The E6 motorway was practically deserted when he drove home. Fifteen minutes later, Fabian turned on to Pålsjögatan and found an empty spot right outside the dark terraced house. But when he’d killed the engine and was about to unbuckle his seat belt, he felt a sudden reluctance to going home and turning in. After his visit to Spades, he had too many images flashing before his eyes, and he could picture Sonja lying with her back towards him while he stared at the ceiling, trying desperately to think about nothing at all.