The Chosen

by Kristina Ohlsson

  Fucking coward.

  She was ashamed to admit that she felt a certain sense of peace at the thought that he was gone. At least he wouldn’t claim any more victims, thank God. Everything could get back to normal.

  Or not.

  Because Eden had made a decision. She had stopped smoking for good. A habit was a weakness, and she couldn’t afford any sign of frailty. And she was going to go on vacation with her family in March. The girls would soon be starting school, and there would no longer be any room for that kind of spontaneity.

  “I’m taking a week off in March,” she said. “A family vacation.”

  “I didn’t think you went in for that kind of thing,” GD said.

  “I do now.”

  She didn’t even have the energy to sound defensive.

  “Okay, so if Efraim Kiel has nothing to do with the murders, then why can’t we find him?”

  “Because he’s better than us. Because he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Why not? What’s he doing that he doesn’t want us to see?”

  How was Eden supposed to know that?

  “I have no idea.”

  “Mossad has got a nerve if they’ve started up a new operation in Stockholm,” GD said. “I was very clear about our views on unauthorized intelligence activities.”

  Eden suppressed a sigh.

  “He could be keeping a low profile for personal reasons. There doesn’t have to be a Säpo-related reason why he doesn’t want to be under permanent surveillance.”

  GD’s expression was grim.

  “I’d feel better if we hadn’t lost the woman who was following him as well. Did I tell you we tracked her down to a place on Torsgatan? An office block.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  Eden was only half listening; in her mind she was already at home with Mikael.

  Things will be different from now on. I promise.

  “In that case, I haven’t mentioned that we haven’t seen her since. She just disappeared. Went into the building and never came out again.”

  “I assume she used a different exit. Or our surveillance guys missed her. That kind of thing does happen.”

  GD ignored her comments. Eden wondered how come GD was better informed about the latest surveillance reports than she was. Officially, Efraim Kiel’s case was being handled by the counterespionage unit, but GD was obviously following developments in minute detail—possibly because he, unlike the head of counterespionage, knew that she and Efraim had been an item.

  “We’ve been watching the block on Torsgatan,” he went on. “The strange thing is, they said they were almost certain they saw police officers enter the building today, but our guys decided against making themselves known.”

  Eden was immediately alert.

  “Were they from Alex Recht’s team?”

  “I don’t know. Counterespionage was supposed to check as discreetly as possible, but I haven’t heard from them.”

  Of course not. Eden couldn’t think of anyone who worked more slowly than the counterespionage unit. Impatiently she took out her cell phone and called Alex. GD raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  “Alex, it’s me, Eden. Sorry to bother you again, but I’m just wondering if your team has been involved in an operation on a property on Torsgatan over the last couple of days.”

  She listened in silence to Alex’s response.

  Then sat for a long time with the phone on her knee.

  Lost for words.

  Back to square one.

  “The woman who’s following Efraim is wanted in connection with the murder inquiry,” she said eventually. “They think her name is Mona Samson and that she was in a relationship with the father of one of the boys. Some of that information has already been leaked to the media.”

  “How does Recht know she’s shadowing Kiel?” GD said in surprise.

  “He doesn’t, but as far as I can see, we must be talking about the same woman.”

  She was almost grinding her teeth in frustration.

  What is it I’m not seeing? What is it that we’re all missing?

  Alex had mentioned that they could be looking for two separate perpetrators. If Mona Samson was the person who had helped Gideon Eisenberg, she was still out there. And she was a threat to Eden and her family.

  But how would she know that Efraim had two children?

  “I have to go home right now,” she said firmly. “We can talk about this in the morning.”

  “Good idea. Try to get some rest—you look tired.”

  Eden felt her knees crack as she got to her feet. She was back in her office, pulling on her coat, when Mikael called.

  “Where are you?”

  “I know, I’m late. But I’m on my way right now, and I’ve got lots of good news.”

  She picked up her bag and Dani’s new violin.

  “Sounds promising,” Mikael said. “We could certainly do with some good news here; it’s been one hell of an evening.”

  “I’m really sorry you had to leave in such a rush. But it will only be for tonight, if that’s any consolation; we can move back home tomorrow.”

  “Eden, we’re not in the other apartment. We’re still at home.”

  She stopped dead.

  “What?”

  “Everything went wrong and the girls were absolutely worn-out.”

  She wasn’t listening anymore. Fear flooded her body. Not because something had happened, but because she was thinking about what could have happened.

  “For fuck’s sake, Mikael, this is serious. You have to do as I say when I call and—”

  “No I don’t,” he interrupted her, sounding furious. “If it’s so important, then you can damn well come home like a normal person and explain what’s going on instead of creating havoc like you did this afternoon.”

  At that moment Eden heard a sound in the background.

  A sound she couldn’t place.

  It came again.

  The doorbell.

  The doorbell.

  “Mikael, don’t open the door!”

  “It’s only the pizzas I ordered about a hundred years ago. I got so angry when they didn’t arrive that they promised to send them over for free. We can have them with a glass of wine when you get home.”

  She heard his footsteps moving through the apartment.

  “Mikael, I mean it. Tell them to leave the pizzas outside the door. Don’t open it!”

  “For pity’s sake, Eden. I’m not going to frighten the life out of a pizza delivery boy just because you’re paranoid.”

  She set off again. Started to run.

  “Please, Mikael, please . . .”

  “Eden, it’s the pizzas. He’s got the boxes in his hand. Love you, see you later.”

  He was gone, leaving her alone.

  Pizza.

  Of course he was right.

  Of course it was the pizza delivery boy.

  She called him back.

  Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

  Unnecessarily.

  The pizzas had arrived; Mikael had just opened a bottle of wine and was about to lay the table.

  A stray tear of pure relief trickled down her cheek and she dashed it away.

  “By the way, can you pick up some milk on the way home? I’ve just noticed we’ve run out.”

  “No problem.”

  She decided to call in at an ICA supermarket that she knew was open late. There was always a line, but it didn’t matter. After all, she wasn’t in a hurry anymore.

  Everything was under control.

  He was running out of patience. Something had to happen soon. She had to show herself again, and next time he wouldn’t miss her. He couldn’t, because otherwise he knew it would be too late.

  Efraim Kiel had believed he had a well-thought-out plan. If he hadn’t been given the task of recruiting a new security chief for the Solomon Community in Stockholm, he would have found another reason to come to Sweden.

  Because now
it was time to put things right.

  Time to wreak the revenge he and Nadia had spent ten years waiting for.

  Nadia, the amazing woman he had managed to recruit as a Mossad informant. A Palestinian woman whose great secret was that her father had been an Israeli Jew; her mother had never told anyone else.

  Nadia had been recruited because of her husband. She was married to a man the Israelis suspected of being involved in Palestinian terrorist activities. Not only involved: he had been one of the operational leaders. Nadia had had integrity; she wouldn’t sell out just any Palestinian to the Israeli side, but the fact was that the man she had fallen in love with and married had deceived her. He wanted to pursue an armed battle against the Israeli occupying forces, which she was happy to go along with. But not if the violence was directed exclusively at the civilian population. She had made it clear at an early stage that she was only prepared to be with him if he and his comrades attacked military targets.

  He had given her his word. And broken it.

  That had provided Efraim with the key to a successful recruitment, and soon Nadia was one of the Israeli security service’s most important sources.

  In his defense, Efraim often told himself that he had tried to resist. That he had never meant to fall in love but had been forced to capitulate. Efraim had never felt for any woman what he felt for Nadia. She became pregnant almost right away and said that she knew it was Efraim’s child she was carrying.

  “You can’t do this,” Efraim had said. “Your husband will kill you if he finds out.”

  “Which is why it will be our secret—yours and mine,” she had replied.

  Therefore, he was not inexperienced when it came to being the father of another man’s child, but in Nadia’s case he had known about it, and it had caused him great pain. Because Efraim had wanted the impossible: a normal life with Nadia.

  There were a thousand reasons why it was out of the question, but only one counted.

  They would die, all three of them. Even if they left Israel.

  “He knows people everywhere,” Nadia had said. “They would find me and kill me.”

  Therefore the husband had to go. Somehow.

  It wasn’t an easy operation to put in place. Months passed, turning into years. Nadia said she needed a break from Efraim, and those words led to a hiatus of several years. They met only to exchange information, and she had something to offer less and less often. Her husband was lying low; he had lost influence within the organization. Efraim didn’t see his son and had to make do with the photographs Nadia gave him. The boy was too old; he would start asking questions if he was suddenly introduced to an Israeli man.

  Then MI5 got in touch. They were trying to track down a terrorist who was planning attacks on British embassies.

  • • •

  He stamped his feet up and down on the spot. He followed the news on his phone. Apparently Gideon Eisenberg was dead; he had killed himself.

  It had been Saul’s idea to call one of the Palestinian sources the Paper Boy. At first Efraim had thought it was a bad idea, but then he changed his mind and said he wanted to use the name for his newest recruit. Nadia the Paper Boy had become Efraim’s project. No one else was allowed to meet her, even though they knew of her existence. No one but Efraim and his boss knew her identity. Gideon and Saul ran their own sources in Palestinian towns and villages.

  Efraim’s bosses felt that taking out Nadia’s husband would be too destructive, so they let him carry on but made sure they sabotaged every plan that Nadia was able to tip them off about.

  When the joint operation with MI5 got under way, everything was suddenly heightened—both the exchange of information and their love affair. Nadia’s husband was the key player in the plot to launch a series of attacks on British embassies, and the Israelis decided they had had enough. Nadia’s husband had to go.

  Efraim had not been involved in the strategic planning, otherwise there would never have been so many of them there on the day his life came to an end. The team had stood outside the house where Nadia’s husband was that afternoon, wondering if they dared go inside.

  He had moved a short distance away, said he was going to call for reinforcements. Which he did, but first he had called Nadia to make sure she was nowhere in the vicinity.

  He could still remember the panic in her voice.

  “You have to abort the whole thing! Benjamin is with him!”

  Efraim hadn’t seen his son emerge from the house.

  He hadn’t been there when Saul and Gideon, those stupid bastards, had decided to approach him. A ten-year-old kid who had been scared of Israeli men all his life. Who knew it was almost never good news when they came calling.

  The boy had run for his life.

  Back to the house.

  Which was booby-trapped.

  It was over in seconds. There was nothing Efraim could do. But later, as he wept with Nadia, he promised her vengeance.

  Saul and Gideon were badly affected by what had happened. They both said they could no longer justify what they were doing. Efraim realized that their past was haunting them; when children were involved, they wanted out.

  So they left the country, but Efraim kept tabs on them. He never forgot what they had done, and that there was a debt to be paid. Both Gideon and Saul were blessed with a son; Efraim couldn’t accept that such an outcome was fair.

  “I’ll give them ten years,” he said to Nadia. “Then I will take from them what they should never have been granted.”

  But it was all over between Efraim and Nadia. She didn’t want him anymore.

  “You gave me the best thing I ever had,” she said. “But you also caused me the greatest pain I have ever known. I can’t reconcile those two experiences. I just can’t.”

  Therefore, Efraim had lost not only a son but the love of his life, and for that Gideon and Saul would pay the highest price imaginable.

  Nadia made a new life for herself in northern Israel. They met occasionally but briefly. She would remind him of what he had promised, and Efraim would assure her that he would never let her down again.

  • • •

  That promise rang hollow as he saw Nadia approach the door of the apartment block for the second time. Everything happened so fast. Before Efraim could take one step, she was inside. The door clicked shut behind her.

  Shit.

  Efraim raced across the road, afraid that every second was vital.

  It took him ninety seconds to get the door open.

  And that was all the time the woman known as the Paper Boy needed.

  Her case was too heavy to carry in the snow. Fredrika Bergman had been indoors for far too many hours; she needed some fresh air, which was why she wanted to walk home.

  She glanced at the suitcase, decided she could pick it up the following day.

  But not her violin.

  She was determined to take it with her so that she could play for Spencer.

  She put on her coat, picked up the violin case, and stopped by to see Alex on her way out.

  “Are you sure it’s okay if I go home? You don’t need me?”

  Alex looked exhausted.

  “No, you get off. I won’t be long myself.”

  Fredrika felt lost. Sad. Almost resigned.

  “It’s over,” she said. “And yet it isn’t.”

  Alex pulled a face.

  “As far as I’m concerned, there is absolutely no doubt: Gideon is the killer we’ve been looking for. And until we’ve had a proper conversation with Mona Samson, I’m not prepared to eliminate her completely from our investigation, in spite of the fact that she’s finally condescended to get in touch.”

  Fredrika agreed.

  “She could have been the person on the roof if it wasn’t Gideon. When is she supposed to be coming in?”

  “Tomorrow. I hope she turns up, because otherwise she’ll be in real trouble.”

  Alex picked up the copy of Gideon Eisenberg’s brief suicide note, which h
ad been on his desk.

  “I wish he’d left a longer message,” he said, “so that we could understand why he did what he did.”

  But Fredrika had learned that it just wasn’t possible to understand some things.

  “He must have been so badly damaged by what Saul’s father did to him.”

  Slashes and scratches inflicted all over his body with a knife.

  A road map of scar tissue.

  A daily reminder of what he had gone through. She tried to shake off the image.

  “That might be an explanation, but it’s hardly an excuse,” Alex said.

  He was right: as far as Fredrika was concerned, there was no excuse for shooting two ten-year-old boys and leaving their bodies barefoot in the snow.

  “We’ll find Polly tomorrow,” she said.

  Alex nodded.

  “We will. I’m sure she’s alive.”

  “Me too. Good night.”

  She raised a hand and left.

  She walked out of Police HQ, out into the fresh air.

  It wouldn’t be a long walk, but she didn’t need one. She just wanted to feel the cold night air on her face, to stretch her legs. She decided to go via Sankt Eriksplan and Vasa Park, which would extend her route slightly.

  She called home to tell Spencer that she was on her way.

  He didn’t answer.

  Perhaps one of the children had woken and needed his full attention.

  She put away her cell phone, enjoying the winter chill even though it was snowing once more.

  Across the street she could see the figure of another woman, who also seemed to be carrying something resembling a violin case. Fredrika followed her through the falling snow and saw her head toward the ICA supermarket on the corner. She was swallowed up by the store’s glass doors, and Fredrika carried on walking.

  He ran twice as fast as he imagined his son had run on the day he died.

  He glanced at the list of residents, because he couldn’t remember whether Eden lived on the second or third floor.

  Third.

  From a purely logical point of view, he should have realized that it was already too late.