by Viveca Sten
“Is this your first?”
Thomas shook his head.
“We had a daughter a few years ago,” Pernilla whispered, “but she died when she was a baby.”
On the screen, shadows drifted in and out of one another like a kaleidoscope in black and white, forming patterns that dissolved a second later.
“There we go, all done.” Dr. Backlund was smiling. “I can tell you the sex, if you’d like to know?”
Pernilla looked at Thomas, then nodded. She was still so frightened.
“OK, so . . .”
Dr. Backlund put down his stethoscope and pointed to the screen where the little head had just been swaying like a reed in the wind.
Pernilla sat up so that she could see better. The shadow had turned slightly; she couldn’t help touching the screen with her fingertips.
“Congratulations,” the doctor said. “You’re having a little girl.”
CHAPTER 53
Pernilla couldn’t stop crying, but she kept assuring Thomas that he didn’t need to worry about her.
“I’m just happy,” she said. “Honestly.” The words came spilling out so fast that he couldn’t keep up. “It’s crazy, Thomas, we’re going to be a family again, I can’t believe it.”
“Just calm down, honey,” Thomas said, blinking away something damp in the corner of his eye. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”
He dropped her off at the office, wondering how she was going to avoid giving her secret away as soon as she walked in. The ultrasound had made the pregnancy real for both of them; suddenly they dared to believe in a miracle.
He was still processing what the doctor had told them when he arrived at work. He was due to meet Margit, but when he stepped out of the elevator on the third floor, she was waiting in the corridor.
“I managed to get ahold of Leif Kihlberg—he’s in Stockholm. Well, not exactly, but he’s arriving late tonight for a conference tomorrow, so I’ve arranged to meet him at his hotel at eight thirty in the morning.”
“That’s good—so we don’t have to go to Gothenburg.”
She gave him a searching look.
“Are you OK?”
“Sure.”
Thomas did his best to appear normal.
“Absolutely sure?”
Suspicion was written all over Margit’s face. She took a step closer, keeping her eyes fixed on him.
Thomas gave in. She knew him too well.
“I’ve been to the hospital with Pernilla for an ultrasound. We’re having a baby.” He couldn’t help grinning. “A little girl.”
“Oh, Thomas!”
For once, Margit seemed deeply affected.
“Come into my office.” She turned on her heel, and Thomas followed her. He sank down in the visitor’s armchair and realized he couldn’t stop smiling. Yesterday’s tiredness was completely gone.
Margit closed the door.
“Congratulations—that’s fantastic!”
“We didn’t think we could have another baby, at least not without IVF or something. I never imagined we’d get another chance,” he said quietly.
Margit’s sharp features softened, and Thomas saw genuine warmth in her deep-set eyes. Her normally furrowed brow smoothed out, and she got up to give him a big hug.
“I’m so happy for you both. You really deserve this, especially after everything you’ve been through.”
She seemed embarrassed by her outburst of emotion, and she quickly returned to her seat.
“We’re keeping it quiet for a while,” Thomas said. “Pernilla’s only in her ninth week.”
“I understand. I won’t say a word.”
Margit took a deep breath and clapped her hands.
“So it’s back to the sleepless nights!”
“I know. Or at least I think I know. I probably have no idea what it’s going to be like this time around. I still feel as if I’m dreaming.”
There was a knock on the door, and Karin Ek came in.
“Good morning—have you recovered?” she said to Thomas, who had no idea what she was talking about.
Margit came to his rescue.
“I explained that you were taking things easy after the accident on Saturday.”
Thomas gave her a grateful look.
“I’m feeling much better, thanks.”
“The military have been in touch.” Karin held out a bundle of papers with an official stamp at the top of the first page.
“Is that from Elsa Harning?” Margit asked.
“Yes.”
“Let’s see,” Thomas said. He quickly glanced through the contents and got to his feet.
“Karin, can you gather everyone together right away please,” he said decisively.
CHAPTER 54
Thomas had pinned up the pages on the whiteboard. Each one consisted of a biography of an individual, complete with personal data and a photograph from the seventies. The young men were eerily alike, with their cropped hair and grim expressions. They were all staring straight into the camera as if they were hypnotized by the lens.
Thomas read aloud: “Leif Kihlberg, team leader; Anders Martinger; Björn Sigurd; Jan-Erik Fredell; Bo Kaufman; Sven Erneskog; Stefan Eklund.
“So now we know who was in Kaufman’s group. We must thank Captain Harning and the military for their assistance.” His tone was ironic. He marked the names of the three victims with a black X: Fredell, Kaufman, and Erneskog.
“Margit and I are meeting Kihlberg tomorrow morning,” he went on. “He works as a deputy fire chief in a suburb of Gothenburg. He’s married for the second time and has two boys aged twenty-one and twenty-three from his first marriage.”
He paused and took a step back.
“Björn Sigurd made a career with the military and completed several overseas tours of duty, including a spell with the peacekeeping forces in Bosnia.”
“So he was a real soldier,” Kalle Lidwall said.
Thomas could have sworn he saw a glimmer of admiration in his younger colleague’s eyes.
“Hang on . . . Sigurd is dead.”
“What happened?” Margit immediately wanted to know.
“Let’s see . . . He was killed in the line of duty in Bosnia. He was traveling in a truck that hit a land mine. Everyone on board died instantaneously.”
Kalle Lidwall looked suitably chastened.
“Any relatives?” Erik Blom wondered, clicking his pen.
“A widow,” Thomas read. “Anne-Marie Sigurd—she’s a nurse. No mention of any kids.”
“So who does that leave?” Kalle said.
“Martinger and Eklund,” Margit replied. “But Stefan Eklund emigrated to Australia in the nineties, and we don’t have his address.”
“I’ve started searching for him,” Karin said apologetically, “but it’s not that easy to find a Swedish immigrant in Australia. They’re not too quick getting back to me from the other side of the world. Thank goodness for the Swedish ID number system; we can locate anyone with the click of a button.”
Thomas moved on to the final biography.
“Anders Martinger joined the air force. He flew combat aircraft, mainly the Viggen, then moved over to the commercial sector at the end of the eighties and started working for SAS. He lives in Sigtuna, and he’s also on his second marriage. Three children, a son of nineteen and two daughters aged fifteen and five. His current wife, Siri, is a flight attendant.”
“Does shaving off their hair make them emotionally stunted?” Margit snorted. “Or are they just too macho to stick with one woman?”
“Sweden has the highest divorce rate in the world, if you include those who live together but don’t marry,” Karin informed her. “It’s not just the Coastal Rangers’ relationships.”
The Old Man interjected. “So the former rangers haven’t done too badly, with the exception of Bo Kaufman.”
Margit snorted again.
Erik continued clicking his ballpoint pen as he stared at the board, until Karin couldn’t stand it any longer.<
br />
“Could you stop doing that!” she snapped.
“Seven men,” Margit said pensively. “They did their military service together over thirty years ago. One died in Bosnia, three have been murdered, and a young man who tried to get information from them is also dead.”
Erik Blom suddenly stood up and went over to the board. He took down the sheets of paper, reorganized them, then pinned them back up again.
Stefan Eklund
Sven Erneskog
Jan-Erik Fredell
Bo Kaufman
Leif Kihlberg
Anders Martinger
Björn Sigurd
He returned to his seat without saying a word. There was no need.
“Alphabetical order,” Margit exclaimed. “The bastard is killing them in alphabetical order!”
“One by one,” Erik agreed.
“With military precision, you mean,” Karin said. She blushed. “Sorry, that just slipped out.”
“So Leif Kihlberg could be next,” Margit said slowly. “Then Martinger.”
The silence in the room was palpable.
“There is another possibility,” Thomas said after a moment. “Yes, Kihlberg or Martinger could be the perpetrator’s next victim . . .” He ran a hand through his blond hair as he considered his words. “Or one of them could be the perpetrator . . .”
“A ranger killing other rangers?” Kalle said.
Thomas gave him an appreciative look.
“Let’s assume that there’s an old grudge within this group, a perceived injustice that happened many years ago. For some reason that we don’t understand, it’s come to the surface now.”
He pointed to Kihlberg’s and Martinger’s biographies.
“A pilot and a firefighter. Two men in highly qualified professions that require the ability to keep a clear head in critical situations. Everything about the MO suggests that our perpetrator is both intelligent and has the capacity to improvise.”
He could see Kaufman’s bedroom in his mind’s eye. All the killer had needed was a gun, a bottle of whisky, and a pillow. Less than half an hour, and the deed was done.
“Two of the group are still alive and living in Sweden,” he went on. “Kihlberg and Martinger. Plus, they both have jobs that could explain why the murders took place on the weekends. Kihlberg lives in Gothenburg, and Martinger is a pilot.”
Margit looked dubious. “I thought Elsa Harning said there was a strong bond between the Coastal Rangers. Would they really be prepared to kill one another?”
Thomas considered her question.
“They’re soldiers who’ve been trained to cut themselves off emotionally,” he said. “Nothing must stop them from carrying out their task.”
“The end justifies the means,” Erik said.
“Exactly. With that kind of attitude, I would imagine that they could definitely turn on their own—if the situation requires them to do so.”
“But why is this happening here and now?” Kalle said.
Thomas shrugged. “I’ve no idea, but it must be something deeply personal to make someone go overboard like this.”
“It might not necessarily be an injustice,” Margit said. “Maybe he wants to keep something under wraps—information that mustn’t come out?”
“It’s a bit extreme, murdering three, or possibly four, people to prevent a secret from being revealed,” the Old Man remarked.
“Yes, but these elite soldiers are extreme,” Thomas countered.
“I still don’t understand how Marcus Nielsen fits in,” Karin said.
Thomas thought back to Lena Fredell’s phone call.
“Fredell’s wife contacted me; she thinks her husband might have lent Marcus Nielsen some of his diaries.”
“And what was in them?”
“She didn’t know, she’s never been allowed to read them. I checked the list of Nielsen’s belongings, and there’s no mention of any diaries, so it looks as if they’re missing.”
Something suddenly occurred to Thomas. Had Jan-Erik Fredell felt the need to talk about an incident in the past? He knew he didn’t have long left; maybe he saw the diaries as a way of passing on a secret he had carried for many years. When Nielsen called him out of the blue, he might have thought this was his last chance to put things right. The student would be his messenger.
Fredell couldn’t have predicted the catastrophe he was about to unleash.
“Maybe Marcus found something in the diaries,” Thomas speculated.
“In which case, it must have been pure dynamite,” Erik said.
The killer’s actions certainly indicate that he is consumed by a deep anger, Thomas thought.
“So how did the perp know what Marcus had found?” Kalle demanded, folding his arms. His cropped hair reminded Thomas of the young men in Kaufman’s photographs.
“We know who Nielsen contacted, and that doesn’t help us,” he said. “Plus, several of them are dead; they can hardly have murdered themselves.”
“In which case, Nielsen must have gotten ahold of our killer by some other means,” Erik said.
“Just a minute.” Kalle’s hand went to his forehead. “We checked Marcus’s calls from his cell phone, but didn’t he spend a lot of time at his parents’ place?”
“He did,” Margit confirmed.
“We haven’t checked the calls from their landline. Marcus could have used their phone to contact the killer.”
“Get on it right away,” the Old Man said.
Margit sat up straight, the look in her eyes even more intense than usual.
“Don’t forget Stefan Eklund,” she reminded them. “We haven’t managed to track him down; he could be the joker in the pack.”
The same thing had occurred to Thomas.
“We need to find out where he is as soon as possible. Meanwhile, let’s deal with the two who are still in Sweden.”
“We’re seeing Kihlberg tomorrow,” Margit said.
“And Martinger?” Thomas said, then answered his own question. “We need to find him right away, too.”
Margit turned to Karin.
“Do what you can to get ahold of a current address for Eklund. Ask the Foreign Office to help you if necessary, and call Elsa Harning.”
Karin made a note on her pad. “I’m on it.”
“We need to check whether Kihlberg and Martinger have alibis for the relevant times,” Margit said, turning to the Old Man.
Thomas was already on his way out of the room.
CHAPTER 55
Nora had left work early to pick up the boys. The sun was shining, but it was nowhere near as warm as it had been the previous week. She parked outside Simon’s school and got out of the car with her purse over her shoulder. Laughter and cheerful shouts filled the yard. She recognized one of Adam’s former teachers standing by the door.
Both boys had attended the Igelboda school from first grade, but Adam had moved over to the hundred-year-old coeducational school at the end of fifth grade. Simon would be following in his footsteps in a few years.
Nora spotted her youngest son with a group of boys scrambling like monkeys over a jungle gym in the middle of the yard.
“Simon!” she shouted as she got closer. “Simon!”
He stopped and turned his head. As soon as he saw her, he clambered down and came running. Nora dropped on one knee and held out her arms.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
She hugged him and rubbed her nose against his hair until he wriggled free.
“Everything OK?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, then frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“You know I have to bring ice cream tomorrow?”
Whenever someone had a birthday, they took in ice cream for the whole class.
“It’s already in the freezer, so you don’t need to worry.”
Nora tried to take his hand, but he wouldn’t let her. Too many friends around, she realized. By the time he moved up to the next class, he would no long
er be her baby boy.
“Can we go home? I’m hungry.”
“Didn’t you have a snack at recess?”
“Yes, but I’m still hungry.”
He patted his tummy; the gesture made Nora think of a little old man, and she couldn’t help smiling.
“OK, but we have to pick up Adam first. Can you hold out a while longer?”
“Mmm.”
Adam usually made his own way home, but Nora picked him up on Mondays because he had his bag with him after staying at Henrik’s. To tell the truth, she didn’t mind at all; she rarely went anywhere near his school these days, and she was glad for the excuse.
“OK, let’s go.”
Just as she got behind the wheel, her cell phone beeped. She gave a start; was it a message from Jonas?
She rummaged around in her purse and grabbed her phone, feeling ridiculously excited. She had been hoping to hear from him all day.
However, the message was from Henrik, and much less welcome.
Simon left his English book here. Can you pick it up?
Any trace of happiness disappeared in a second.
Every time the phone rang over the past twenty-four hours, she had hoped it would be Jonas. She was like a coiled spring as she waited for him to contact her. It reminded her of being a teenager, when the key was to play hard to get rather than being too keen. She hadn’t been comfortable behaving that way back then, but it was hard not to fall into old habits.
It was sixteen years since she’d last been single, and she didn’t know how to play the game anymore. She had no idea how dating worked these days, and she certainly didn’t know what the rules were when you’d slept with someone.
She stuffed the phone back into her purse.
They had spent a night together, that was all. She had to stop thinking about him and get on with her life. Anyway, he was in Thailand, on the other side of the world.
Nora noticed Simon glancing sideways at her, and she pushed all thoughts of Jonas aside. She dug her phone out again and called Henrik; he answered almost right away.
“It’s Nora. I got your message. You can drop by and leave the book in the mailbox.”
“I won’t have time today. I’ll be at the hospital until late.”
“You’re the one who forgot to put it in his bag.”