He would always win.
That’s how he had felt when he walked up to her.
Before he saw the child who was obviously her daughter.
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
It was like staring at a carbon copy of his younger sister. She had died in a car crash as a child, and he still carried a picture of her in his wallet. Eden had seen that picture, which had been a big mistake; he should never have let her touch any of his personal possessions. Everything he had shown her had been a facade, an invention, a stage set. The small amount that was not a part of this facade was in his wallet, but the only thing Eden had been interested in on that one occasion when she unconsciously got too close to the truth was the photograph of his sister.
She had thought it was his daughter.
“You’re so alike,” she had said.
“We were,” he had said. “But she’s not around anymore.”
And he had immediately come up with a story of how his sister had been blown up in a terrorist attack and how his parents had never gotten over it. The last part was true, in a way: his parents were still grieving for their lost little girl. But there had been no terrorist attack, just an unnecessary car accident.
Efraim closed his eyes, conjuring up once again the image of Eden’s daughter.
Their daughter.
But how was that possible?
They had used protection. Every single time. Or had they? Efraim recalled just one time when he hadn’t used anything, but Eden had stroked his cheek—how fucking stupid had he been?—and said:
“It’s okay. I’m already pregnant.”
Why had she said that?
Efraim had had no reason to doubt her, because after a while the pregnancy had begun to show, and Mossad’s leaders had decided to put the project on the back burner. If motherhood meant that she was likely to move back to Sweden and leave MI5, then she would no longer be of interest to them. But Eden gave birth to her children and remained in London. Six months later, Efraim made another attempt. It took a few weeks, but then she was his once more.
That was when he had realized that she was in love.
Deeply in love.
During the first phase of their relationship she had been driven by lust, but in this second phase it was all about love. He was surprised when he saw the change in her, and he wasn’t slow to capitalize on it. Recruiting an MI5 agent was invaluable.
Thank God she had fallen for him.
She must have known he was the father of her children. The only question was what he should do with that information now.
Efraim felt as if the challenges were beginning to pile up, but the fact that he had unexpectedly become the father of two little girls didn’t necessarily need to be one of them. Eden clearly had no intention of causing him any problems, and if he was interpreting the situation correctly, she hadn’t told her husband what she had done. Hadn’t mentioned that he wasn’t the father of the children he loved and supported.
How the hell could she live with such a huge lie?
Efraim wondered if he was supposed to feel something for the kids. He didn’t think so. He hadn’t been there at the birth, hadn’t been a part of their lives. He hadn’t even known they existed, so he hadn’t missed them either.
Not the way he had missed Benjamin over the past ten years.
As always his heart swelled with sorrow when he thought of the boy he hadn’t been allowed to keep. To think that grief could hurt so much for so long. The things we are prepared to do for those we love . . . He hadn’t understood until he himself suffered the greatest loss of all.
If it hadn’t been for what had happened to Benjamin, Efraim would have been less inclined to appoint a man like Peder Rydh as head of security. But when he learned about Peder’s past, the terrible choice he had been forced to make, Efraim felt nothing but respect. Seeking vengeance for those who have died at someone else’s hand was a duty and a curse.
Efraim knew why Simon Eisenberg and Abraham Goldmann had had to die.
It was as obvious as any law of nature.
But the second murder, the teacher outside the Solomon school . . .
Efraim didn’t understand that at all. When he heard that the same murder weapon had killed all three victims, he knew who had murdered Josephine.
But he didn’t know why.
What the hell was going on? It must have been a mistake. The bullet must have been meant for someone else.
There had been another message waiting when he got back from the park. This time it had been pushed under the door of his room. When he read it, he realized that the game was over and that the person going by the name of the Paper Boy was seeking peace. And his support.
I will finish what you cannot bring yourself to do.
Try to understand.
Two hours, Fredrika Bergman had said to Spencer. She would be gone for two hours, no more. But with the new development in the case, she wasn’t at all sure she could get home by then.
“Can you handle it?” she said on the phone.
Spencer sounded hoarse when he replied.
“Of course.”
“Are you going to be well enough to travel tomorrow?” she said.
She really didn’t like the idea of going on her own; it just felt wrong in every way.
“I don’t think so, Fredrika.”
Her heart sank.
“Okay, but—”
“Maybe we should talk about this when you get home.”
He was right. He usually was, unfortunately.
“I’ll be as quick as I can.”
He laughed.
“I know you will. You said that before you left.”
As she slipped her phone back into her bag, she felt a pang of guilt. She had left her children the day before she was due to go to Israel. She had left Spencer with both of them, in spite of the fact that he wasn’t well. They stuck rigidly to certain unwritten rules, one of which was that they didn’t go in for punishment. Leaving someone who was ill home alone with two small children definitely sounded like some kind of penalty.
But the intention was key; she couldn’t possibly have known how the day would turn out.
Once again she and Alex were standing outside Gideon and Carmen Eisenberg’s apartment, and this time they weren’t going to walk away.
“We won’t start with the possibility that Polly might be in danger,” Alex decided. “We’ll go for the other stuff first.”
Fredrika agreed; it sounded like a sensible approach.
If only they could get the parents to talk.
• • •
It was Gideon who opened the door, and at first Fredrika didn’t think it was the same man. Sorrow had eaten away at his soul, leaving him damaged and broken.
“Sorry to disturb you again,” Alex began, “but we’d like to ask you a few more questions.”
“Come in.”
Carmen was waiting in the living room. She was sitting in a large armchair, gazing toward one of the windows. The apartment was silent; Fredrika wondered where Polly was.
They sat down, and Alex got straight to the point.
“The Paper Boy.”
Both parents looked at him, their expressions weary but attentive.
“You said that was the name Simon used on the Super Troopers forum.”
Gideon cleared his throat. “That’s right.”
“Could you explain why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why did he choose that particular name?”
Gideon and Carmen exchanged glances which Fredrika was unable to interpret.
“It’s just a name,” Carmen said.
Her tone was neither evasive nor annoyed, but empty of emotion.
“But he must have got it from somewhere,” Fredrika said. “The Paper Boy. It doesn’t sound like something a ten-year-old boy would choose to be called.”
Carmen looked away.
“It’s a story,” Gideon said. “A le
gend, if you like.”
“It’s not a story I’m familiar with,” Alex said. “What’s it about?”
Gideon sighed. His entire being radiated exhaustion. And something else. Fear.
“It’s just an Israeli story. Simon heard us talking about it once. I didn’t want to tell him the real story, so I changed it a bit to make it more child-friendly. If I had known he was going to use it as his online alias, I would have asked him to choose something else.”
“What do you mean, you changed the story?” Alex said.
Gideon shuffled uncomfortably.
“People used to talk about the Paper Boy when I was growing up. They said he used to abduct children and hurt them. The story was told so that children would respect the political situation in Israel and not go rambling around the streets late in the evening or at night. But I didn’t feel it was necessary to give Simon all the details, so I said that when I was little, the Paper Boy was the name we gave to a boy everyone looked up to.”
Simon’s choice of the name immediately sounded more logical.
“The problem was that Daphne and Saul had chosen to tell Abraham the real version,” Carmen said. “So when Simon started to call himself the Paper Boy on that forum, Abraham reacted quite strongly, wanting to know what he thought he was doing. Simon was upset and tried to change the name, but apparently that wasn’t possible unless he gave up his membership in the forum and reapplied, and he didn’t want to do that.”
“So he stuck with the Paper Boy,” Fredrika said.
“Yes.”
Hesitantly, Alex reached into his inside pocket and took out a photograph. Fredrika was only too well aware of its subject.
“There’s something we have to show you,” Alex said.
Alex placed the photograph on the table in front of Gideon and Carmen. They stared at the image as if they couldn’t work out what it was.
Carmen was the first to realize.
“Oh God,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand.
Her eyes widened and filled with tears.
“Is that Simon?” Gideon whispered. He couldn’t take his eyes off the picture of the boy with a paper bag over his head. Barefoot in the snow.
“I’m afraid so. That’s how we found both Simon and Abraham: barefoot and with paper bags over their heads.”
Carmen was weeping openly by now.
“I’m so very sorry we have to show you this,” Alex said. “But we need to know whether you can explain it to us. Why do the boys look like this?”
Fredrika was watching Gideon. He looked as if someone had cast a spell on him. He was staring at his son, his breathing irregular, his face chalk white.
“Would you like a glass of water?” she said.
“Please.”
She was back in no time. Gideon drank greedily, then pushed the photograph away.
“That’s how they were supposed to look,” he said.
Quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear what he was saying.
“Sorry, who are you talking about?” Alex asked.
“The Paper Boy’s victims. He tore off their clothes and left a paper bag as his calling card.”
The atmosphere in the room was oppressive.
“So we can conclude that whoever killed the boys was familiar with the story of the Paper Boy,” Alex said. “How widespread is this tale? Is it known outside Israel?”
“I have no idea,” Gideon said.
“What about within the Solomon Community?” Fredrika said. “Is anyone else familiar with it, apart from the two of you and Abraham’s parents?”
Carmen shook her head.
“I don’t think so. I’m not even sure it’s all that widespread in Israel. I’d never heard of it until Gideon told me.”
Fredrika thought that was interesting.
“But where you grew up, children were told about the Paper Boy?” she said to Gideon.
“Yes, but I have no idea how many other people knew about him. It’s years since that story was a part of my life.”
“But you said you and Carmen talked about it,” Alex said. “That was how Simon chose the name as his alias.”
They didn’t get any further. Fredrika couldn’t decide whether she was satisfied or not. It was obvious that whoever had murdered Simon had done so for deeply personal reasons; she just couldn’t work out what those reasons were, and it seemed that Gideon and Carmen were in the same position.
“On our last visit you mentioned that you left Israel in 2002,” Alex said. “Could you tell us a little more about that decision?”
Carmen shrugged.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing more to tell.”
“It’s going to be difficult for us to move this investigation forward if we don’t have access to relevant information,” Alex said.
Gideon looked distressed.
“What do you want us to say? We told you last time why we left Israel. The political situation was so volatile that we wanted to make a fresh start somewhere else.”
Fredrika was trying to work out if he was lying, but it was difficult.
“We’ve looked at Simon and Abraham’s activities on Super Troopers,” she said, hoping that Alex would forgive her for changing the subject. “In the weeks leading up to their deaths, they were both in contact with a person calling himself the Lion. Were you aware of this?”
Alex picked up the photograph and slipped it back in his pocket. No one needed to look at the face of evil any longer. Carmen and Gideon’s silence suggested that Fredrika’s question had touched a nerve.
“Simon mentioned the Lion,” Carmen said eventually. “He seemed to be one of the people who had joined the forum in order to coach children and young people in how to improve at various sports, for example. Teach them how to be courageous and ‘go for it.’ ”
“The desire to win is so controversial here in Sweden,” Gideon said. “Parents who provide elite training for their children often acquire a bad reputation. It’s quite different in other countries, and several contributors to the Super Troopers forum belonged to overseas sports clubs or academies for children. The Lion said he was planning to set up a new tennis academy in Stockholm, but it’s difficult to know how much of that was just talk and how much was true.”
“Do you know his real name?”
“Only his first name: Zalman. He’d just moved to Stockholm, or maybe he was about to move here; I don’t remember. He had emigrated to Israel from Russia a few years ago, so he didn’t write to the boys in Hebrew or Swedish, just English.”
“Did he ever meet Simon and Abraham?” Fredrika asked.
“No, definitely not. We would never have agreed to that unless we were there, too,” Carmen said.
Silence. Fredrika could hear the faint sound of traffic and thought about all the people who had to work on a Saturday. The silence also allowed other thoughts to rise to the surface: they had no idea who the Lion was. He could be anyone—anyone at all.
It was as if time were standing still in the apartment, which rarely happened in a home with children. Simon was gone, but Polly was still alive. Fredrika wondered where she was, because she obviously wasn’t at home.
“Do you think he’s involved?” Carmen said. “The Lion, I mean. Zalman.”
“We’d certainly like to speak to him,” Alex replied.
Carmen was crying softly again, but Gideon remained motionless and mute.
“Efraim Kiel,” Alex said. “Do you know anyone by that name?”
There was no mistaking the astonishment on Carmen and Gideon’s faces. Carmen stopped crying immediately.
“What’s he got to do with anything?”
That’s exactly what we’re wondering, Fredrika thought. Had it been a mistake to mention his name?
“Possibly nothing at all,” Alex went on. “We’ve discovered that he’s in Stockholm at the moment, helping with security issues at the Solomon Community, but he’s proving rather difficult to get hold of.”
“Efraim Kiel is in Stockholm?” Gideon said slowly.
“How do you know one another?” Fredrika said, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.
Gideon made a dismissive gesture.
“We don’t. Not anymore. But we did our military service together. Unless of course you’re talking about a different Efraim Kiel.”
“You don’t have a picture of him?” Alex said.
“I don’t think so.”
Fredrika was fascinated by the links that had emerged. They had lived on a kibbutz together, done their military service together. A different context; a different philosophy. Did the fact that Efraim had once known Gideon and Carmen make him more or less interesting? She had no idea.
She spotted a doll lying in a corner. Definitely Polly’s.
But where was she?
Alex had also noticed the doll. He glanced at Fredrika. They had one more thing to discuss with Gideon and Carmen: the most difficult thing of all.
“Unfortunately there’s another matter we need to bring to your attention,” he said.
He looked at the doll.
“Where is your daughter at the moment?”
“With a friend,” Carmen replied. “Her mother called to ask if it would help if they took Polly out for a few hours. We said yes. She doesn’t understand what’s happened, and she’s finding it difficult to see us so upset.”
Fredrika sympathized completely.
However, there was something in what Carmen had just said that started alarm bells ringing in her head.
Her mother called to ask if it would help if they took Polly out for a few hours.
Out where?
“Where are they now?” she asked.
Her pulse rate was rising, her heart pounding.
“I think they said they were going to Tessin Park,” Gideon said. “There’s a little toboggan run that the kids love.”
“When are you expecting her home?” Alex said.
Fredrika could see how serious his expression was.
He’s just as worried as I am.
Carmen glanced at her watch. “In an hour. Why do you ask? What’s going on?”
The sound of a telephone sliced through the apartment. Gideon got up so quickly that he knocked over his glass of water.
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