He didn’t dare wait for the lift, but took the stairs instead. He lived on the top floor, and his knees were already protesting by the time he reached the second storey. The man seemed to have stayed put; Henry couldn’t hear any footsteps behind him. By the third flight of stairs he was breathing heavily; he was running out of steam, finding it hard to focus. He concentrated on keeping going, making sure he wasn’t being followed. Unfortunately he failed to notice that the lift was on its way up.

Henry was on the point of bursting into tears by the time he reached his own front door. He fumbled for his key and inserted it in the lock just as the lift came to a halt. Then everything happened so fast that an elderly person like Henry could be forgiven for not reacting in time. It was as if the man flew into his apartment. He slammed the door and locked it. Henry stood there in the hallway clutching his dripping umbrella.

Then the man uttered the words that changed – and possibly explained – everything.

‘Forget the dog. I want you to keep an eye on my daughter. The thing is, I made a terrible mistake. I left her on the train, she was asleep when I got off. I was only gone for a couple of minutes, but that was enough. Now I’m standing on the platform and she’s all alone on the train. Can you keep an eye on her?’

Henry slowly shook his head as his field of vision shrank. He was paralysed and struck dumb with shock. He couldn’t say a single word. He just wanted to know why this man had turned up to remind Henry of the biggest mistake of his life.

Can you keep an eye on her?

I thought I could. I really thought I could.

‘What do you want?’ he whispered, his voice hoarse with tension. Henry was afraid.

Terrified.

The man didn’t reply. Instead he struck Henry across the throat with such force that everything went black and his legs gave way. Lying on the floor, incapable of speaking or even swallowing his own saliva, Henry was only vaguely aware of what was happening. Unstructured thoughts filled his mind, too many to grasp. They turned into a warm flow of energy surging through his body as he felt the man grab the hair at the back of his neck and push his head forward. A few thoughts flashed with sudden clarity, broke through. Strangely enough, he didn’t think ‘Why me?’ His killer had already answered that question, for which Henry was grateful. What he didn’t understand, however, was the man’s need to mete out punishment. Not a day went by without Henry cursing what he had done and the consequences of his action.

Henry Lindgren was nothing more than a human being. And that obviously wasn’t enough.

Chapter 2