I was getting tired of Nina. I didn’t intend to let anyone or anything destroy my chance of reaching peace. Freedom. Least of all Nina, who had come into the picture so late. I had to continue until all three robberies were done. There was no other way.
I saw her eyes fill with tears. Nina, the hard-boiled prosecutor who didn’t back down for anything, was sitting in front of me, crying. I let go of her. Calmed myself. Backed up and sat down on the chair next to her. Gave her a napkin from the holder on the table. She didn’t take it. She just sat there, staring straight ahead.
“Nina, I’m going to protect you as much as possible. Everything will soon be over. Don’t make this worse than it is now. No one has actually been injured.”
Nina stared with red eyes straight ahead. Then she said quietly, “Where is the girl?”
“She’s staying in an apartment with Ronni. She’s in no danger. She’s a timid little girl who barely says anything. You know Ronni from before.”
She gave me a quick look.
“I’m keeping an eye on Ronni,” I said. “Where this kind of money is concerned the meanest men get submissive, believe me. He does as I say. He’s aware that his previous criminal career has not been particularly successful and has the sense to understand that I know what I’m doing.”
“The girl was completely covered with blood and had bruises,” said Nina.
She picked up the napkin. Blew her nose. Dried her cheeks.
“The blood was bought cheaply at Buttericks, along with a blond wig. The bruises she had from before. You know how kids are, they fall down and hurt themselves.”
“Where is her mother?”
“She lives in Finland. She thinks that Ronni took the girl to Sweden to see her grandmother. That’s why the girl hasn’t been reported as missing. Once he’s got his five hundred thousand euros he’ll go back to Finland with the girl. That’s the deal, anyway. I would be very surprised if he doesn’t follow through. He hasn’t exactly been a model father, and he mostly just seems to think the girl is a nuisance. Probably he wants to be rid of her as soon as possible. I have to use your bathroom.”
I left the table and went into the bathroom. Wanted to get away from Nina’s interrogation. Didn’t intend to give her any more information.
In the bathroom I opened her medicine cabinet. Among skin care products and nail accessories I found what I was looking for. The wood-colored hairbrush with a black handle was full of hair strands. I found a pair of small tweezers among the nail accessories and carefully pulled a few strands of hair out of the brush. From my pocket I took out a small redline bag and placed the strands in it. I had been collecting the DNA of various people for some time. Carried it with me in my pocket wherever I went. I had faith in my plan, but I wasn’t so naive that I didn’t understand that things could go wrong. When you had to deal with people, unexpected things often came up. The bags were the smallest at work and on the writable part I made careful notations to keep track of whom the samples came from. I had no pen with me, so Nina’s bag had to stay in my pocket without labeling. I flushed the toilet and turned on the tap as if I was washing my hands.
“That pad Thai was really good,” I said to Nina when I came out. “Thai restaurants have been opening all around town recently, but yours is definitely one of the better ones.”
I needed to talk about something easily digestible. Normally our work involved traumatic events that neither of us had any problem relating to, but this was completely different. I started walking toward the hall.
“And that business with the drain?” said Nina, coming after me.
I repeated what Nina already knew. That it was true what Minna said at the meeting, that there was a storm drain approximately twenty meters from the bank, suitably located on Nybrogatan below the curb between two parking spaces. A perfect place for a little girl to slip down into without anyone noticing her between the cars. I explained how the girl had climbed down on the ladder to the bottom of the drain and crouched there until Ronni had picked her up.
“It’s not as complicated as you might think, Nina. The only thing that went a little wrong was that there were people around when Ronni was supposed to pick up the girl after the first robbery, so he didn’t have time to put back the drain grate. Otherwise everything is running like clockwork. Ronni’s done everything he’s been told to.”
The collaboration with Ronni had not been completely painless but Nina didn’t need to know everything. He had, after all, managed to get the girl to commit the two robberies correctly according to my instructions. He had missed a few minor details that made me really irritated, but the fact was that he’d managed the girl, and most of his responsibilities, above expectation.
I had put on my shoes and jacket. Picked up my bag as I went toward the door.
“Where’s the money?” Nina asked.
“It’s in a secure place until you’ve closed down the investigation or until a verdict is announced. Ronni will get his share right after the third robbery is committed so that he can return to Finland with the girl.”
I didn’t intend to tell either Ronni or Nina where I had hidden the money. I went slowly up to Nina and said in a calm voice, “I have to go now, Nina. I promise you, you have nothing to worry about if you do what I’ve said. Just continue as usual. As if you don’t know anything about this. I’ll take care of the rest. The most important thing is that we can rely on each other. I stood by your side and risked my entire career when you were in difficulty once. Now it’s your turn to do the same for me. In a few weeks all of this will be over.”
I wasn’t sure whether Nina was listening to what I said. She stared at the floor in front of her.
“Nina, forgive me for taking hold of you like that.”
I reached out both my hands and she took them slowly, looking at me. And what I thought I saw in Nina’s eyes I would never forget.
Collusion.
Calm.
I was one step closer.
FIFTY-SEVEN
It was 11:24 a.m. The text from Issy had just arrived. I took a pile of papers with me and made a round of the corridors at the squad. Two of the pictures that had been leaning against the wall just outside my office for a couple of weeks had now been hung up. The dark motifs were hard to interpret. If they’d had more color they possibly would have lightened up our formal office environment. But I didn’t care about the motifs — I was just pleased that they’d managed to hang the pictures straight.
One, two, three, four offices in a row were vacant. A number of my colleagues always had lunch early.
“Are you looking for somewhere to sit, Leona?”
Gunnel, one of my oldest colleagues, had seen me strolling around in the corridor.
“No, I just…”
“Don’t say he’s thrown you out too. I’m starting to get really tired of all this moving. I’ve only been in this office a week but apparently I have to move again next week. To where I don’t know.”
Gunnel was standing in the doorway to her office, holding the doorframe as if she was going to refuse to move a millimeter.
“I’m still in my office for the time being,” I said.
“Be happy as long as it lasts. This squad is sick. We were supposed to get peace and quiet when we moved to this floor. What happened to that?”
Gunnel inhaled and exhaled as she talked.
“It’s like I’ve always said. However much they build it’s always too cramped in this building. Did you hear that maybe they’re going to close the firing range too?”
I looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“You know, soon we won’t be a police station any longer,” she continued. “Just a lot of pen pushers. Possibly we’ll shoot with Defense in their headquarters up by the stadium. That’s what Claes said. It’ll be running around with a lot of little boys dressed in green from here on in.”
I had a hard time seeing Gunnel on a firing range at all, much less with soldiers. I continued down the corrid
or. Chose the last office at the far end.
I sat down. The office chair was set for someone half reclining at the desk. Extremely ungainly, but I didn’t think it was time to start readjusting it. I put my ID into the computer and logged in with the code Issy had texted. It took a while to log in, as usual. Many people before me had complained about the agency’s computers. This one was unusually slow.
A worrying thought that I couldn’t trust Issy had taken firm hold in my mind.
I pushed it away.
Every time it appeared.
Now! Now I was in the investigation program. Because I didn’t have the reference number, I had to search for the politicians’ names. That alone could get me fired if anyone found out it was me. It was tempting to check them in the crime registry, too, once I was in, but now was not the time to get greedy. I would quickly take the info I needed, log out, and leave.
There it was. Access protected, just as I’d thought. I closed my eyes and double-clicked. When I looked up, the investigation appeared on the screen. I scrolled through all the documents in the case. I wanted to give Christer Skoog as little information as possible. Preferably the sort of thing you might imagine he had already found out from some other source, but at the same time something he would be content with, which wouldn’t be just anything.
I read an interrogation report for the minister for finance.
Olander denies the crime. He has not done the things he is accused of and does not know anything about betting between other politicians concerning prostitution. He does not know any woman by the name of Dina, either.
I scrolled down to the end of the interrogation, where the suspect is usually confronted with evidence that has emerged in the investigation.
To the question of whether it is true that Olander has a birthmark on his left groin, Olander answers in the affirmative.
“Leona, have you had to change offices now too?”
I was startled. I hadn’t heard anyone approaching in the corridor. Anette stood in the doorway with a watering can in her hand.
“Uh…No, my computer crashed, so I’ve just been sitting here awhile.”
I quickly minimized the case from the screen.
“How tiring it is to have computers that never work the way they’re supposed to. Good thing we’ll be getting new ones soon. I’m just going to water Agneta’s plants. Apparently she’s on sick leave now. The flu again, it sounds like. I thought you could only get that once every year, but the doctors told her you can get it several times if you’re unlucky.”
Anette went around behind me over to the window.
“These really needed water. Dry as dust. What a lovely wax plant she has. Look how it’s blooming.”
“We’re lucky to have you here on the squad, Anette, otherwise it would be more than just flowers that died.”
Anette laughed.
“You’re sweet, Leona. Don’t work yourself to death now. You have to have lunch too.”
Anette continued to the next office. I continued reading.
To the question of whether Olander has any idea how Dina can know that he has a birthmark on his left groin Olander answers that he does not know. She may have seen the birthmark when he was swimming at the beach during summer.
To the question of what kind of swimsuit Olander generally wears, he answers that he has two pairs of swimming shorts.
To the question of whether Olander in recent years has used smaller-style swimsuits such as Speedos, Olander answers that he does not go around in just anything at the beach.
To the question of whether Olander often sunbathes and swims at the beach without a swimsuit Olander answers in the negative.
To the question of whether Olander would please show his birthmark Olander answers that he does not intend to do that and that it would be offensive. The interrogator explains that in that case the prosecutor will be forced to make a decision on fingerprinting and that Olander will then be forced to undress completely, roll his fingers and palms in ink, be photographed, and show all scars, piercings, and tattoos on his body. Olander answers that in that case the prosecutor will need to make the decision, and that he would never sink so low as to mar his body with tattoos or piercings.
A birthmark. Interesting. As far as I knew this hadn’t emerged in the media. This would be a candy store for Christer. I quickly jotted down some personal information and contact details for the prostitute, logged out, and then left the office before I phoned.
“Christer, Leona here. Are you aware that Minister for Finance Olander has a birthmark on his groin?”
“No.”
“The prostitute described it extensively. There is even a sketch where she has revealed the shape, color, and exact location. Olander refused to show the birthmark to the investigator during the interview because he thought it was an offensive question. The prosecutor was bold enough to order fingerprinting of the minister for finance.”
I saw the picture in my mind. The finance minister without clothes and a colleague checking off every birthmark and scar on his body, photographing him with the civic registration number tag over his chest from in front and in profile, and then taking his fingerprints. The digital fingerprint scanner malfunctioned time and again and it was not unusual that you were forced to use ink instead and first roll the suspect’s fingers and finally whole palms a number of times before there was an impression that could be read. Not exactly like on CSI.
Christer sounded impressed.
“The birthmark tallies ridiculously well with what the woman drew,” I said.
“I’ll be damned. Did you make a printout?”
“No, but I have the most recent address for the woman, which appears to be correct.”
I couldn’t risk confidential documents going straight to the presses at Aftonbladet, so I deliberately hadn’t printed anything out.
“The address is Nybohovsbacken 77. The apartment is under the name Ida Svensson. Reportedly she is a prostitute too. I have to go. Now you have the information.”
Christer Skoog seemed content for the moment.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Only a milk carton, salt, and pepper were on the kitchen table, besides the tableware. The food was still in the pans on the stove. It wasn’t ideal for a family with two children to have such a small table but a larger one would have taken up too much of the kitchen. I agreed with Peter that the apartment was too small for us, but avoided talking about it.
I had made spaghetti with meat sauce. The kids loved it. There was some part of me that still enjoyed making it happen. Family life. Not because I was happy living that way, but because I was satisfied knowing that I succeeded in pretending. There I had a long list of credits.
“Sit up properly when you eat,” I said to Beatrice, who was reclining in her chair.
“I’ll cut the spaghetti for you, Bea,” said Peter.
He reached across the table with knife and fork in his hands. Halfway to her plate his arm bumped against the milk carton and knocked it over. Milk spilled all over his plate, the tabletop, and his recently dry-cleaned suit pants, and the carton fell to the floor.
“Damn it!”
He got up quickly. Milk was running down one pant leg.
“Daddy, you said damn.”
“I’m getting sick of this! We have to move to a sensible house that has room for real furniture.”
“Daddy, you swore,” Beatrice cried.
“Quiet now, Bea. Eat instead,” I said, tearing a paper towel from the roll.
When Beatrice was born, Peter had already started saying that we needed to move to a bigger place. For him that meant moving to a house. He finally agreed to the compromise of building a wall in one bedroom. “An extremely small four-room,” as a few prospective buyers called the apartment at the showing, had become an even smaller five-room. The kids each had their own little room, plus we had a small study with a bed and a desk. Then there was our bedroom, the living room and the kitchen. It worked.
; He got a rag and started wiping the floor.
“Daddy, Daddy, when are we going to move?”
“As soon as possible. How is Larissa doing with paying back the money?”
Peter looked up at me while he wrung out the rag in the sink.
“She hasn’t been able to pay that much yet.”
“How much?”
“It’s coming,” I said.
“How much, Leona?”
I didn’t see the point in starting to argue about it now. Peter was an emotional person. He overreacted to trifles.
“Can we maybe talk about it later, darling?”
I looked meaningfully at Peter and hoped that he would spare the children from our discussions.
“She hasn’t paid anything, right?”
I set down my silverware, heaved a demonstrative sigh, and looked at Peter.
“I’ll talk with her.”
“Maybe it’s better if I call her and explain the situation. So she understands how living this way is affecting our family.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take care of it.”
Peter didn’t look satisfied but seemed to calm down a little. The question was how long he would accept my explanations.
Taking out money from the robberies now was inconceivable.
It was much too risky.
It would take time.
FIFTY-NINE
The reflection of the sun forced me to lower the sunshade in the car as I passed Hornstull on my way back to work after lunch outside the office. Up on Västerbron I looked out over Riddarfjärden toward Norr Mälarstrand. The sun displayed the city from its very best side. You could almost be led to believe that Stockholm was a cozy, pleasant city to live in.
I didn’t let myself be fooled.
I knew better.
I felt a vibration in my pocket. With my right hand I wriggled out the phone as I drove across the bridge above Rålambshovsparken.
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