“Sebastian,” he said, smiling in a relaxed way that made her like him at once.
“Are you going to show us the way?” Wallin gestured toward the building.
“Sure.” She set off. Walked up the narrow staircase. The building seemed just as deserted as it had the last time she was there.
She unlocked the door and let them into the little room. It smelled musty. Hunter’s sleeping bag was still spread out over the camping mattress. Sebastian sat down at the table and took out a laptop. Wallin walked around the room. He pointed at one of the corners.
“Was that where you found . . . ?”
“There.” She pointed at the opposite corner.
He walked closer and inspected the little hole made by the potato peeler. He seemed quite impressed by both the hiding place and the fact that she had found it.
“Okay.” Sebastian turned to look at them. “I’m ready. Which of you has the picture?”
Julia put her hand in her pocket and removed the little memory card. She hesitated briefly.
“Sebastian knows what he’s doing, and he’s very discreet,” Wallin said.
“Absolutely. I’ve done several jobs for the Security Police before. I usually have to sign a bunch of paperwork.”
“That won’t be necessary today,” Wallin said. “We trust your professionalism.” He patted the man on the shoulder. And nodded to Julia to hand over the memory card. She obeyed.
Sebastian inserted the card into the slot in the laptop, then tapped some keys.
“There are three pictures. Which one do you want me to start with?”
“The one titled zero zero three,” she said, pulling the other wooden chair out and sitting down next to him.
He clicked. Said nothing for a few moments. “Powerful image,” he said. As a statement of fact.
He clicked again. Zoomed in and out across Sophie Thorning’s body.
“My first impression is that the picture is genuine. The shadows and lighting all make sense, and there are no odd edges or changes in color.”
More clicking.
“If this is a fake, then whoever was responsible certainly knew what they were doing.” He looked up. Smiled at her again, not quite as broadly this time.
“So, what happens now?” Wallin was standing behind Sebastian, looking over his shoulder.
“I run the picture through a program that analyzes the pixels. Figures out if there are any color patterns that don’t fit. The sort of thing that can’t be detected by the naked eye.”
“How long will that take?” Julia said. All of a sudden the atmosphere in the room was making her feel uneasy.
Sebastian shrugged his shoulders.
“Anything from a couple of minutes to a couple of hours. It depends what crops up.”
She looked at him. Since when were IT guys in such good shape as he was? He looked like a professional triathlete. More at home on a running track or assault course than in front of a screen. Obviously that could just be her prejudice: people could look however they wanted to, of course. But he’d barely flinched at the sight of Sophie’s battered body. She continued to surreptitiously watch the guy. Sebastian tapped at the keyboard some more, then raised his hands above his head and stretched.
“There. Now we just wait.”
Julia nodded. The sleeve of his T-shirt slid up as he stretched, revealing the rest of the tattoo. An eagle with outstretched talons, its wings spread.
“Parachute regiment,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows. “How did you know?”
“Your tattoo. I once dated a guy who had one like it. I seem to recall he was a lieutenant.”
“Okay. And there was me thinking you were pretty and clairvoyant.”
“How does a paratrooper end up doing a job like this?”
His eyes narrowed, not much, but enough for her to notice. “You mean I don’t fit the template for an IT guy? Would it be better if I had scrawny arms and a Green Lantern T-shirt?”
She didn’t answer, just went on studying him. As subtly as she could, she moved her chair back a little. The computer made a faint noise.
“Okay, it’s done.” Sebastian clicked the pad.
Wallin took a step closer. “What does it say? Is the picture fake or genuine?”
“Genuine.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” Wallin said.
“Hundred percent.” Sebastian looked up and met Julia’s gaze. His face was hard, almost clenched.
She held her breath and felt tentatively for the pistol at her right hip. But then Sebastian suddenly flashed her a suggestive wink. His face softened and cracked into another charming smile. A facial expression that quickly switched to surprise when Wallin Tasered him in the back of the neck.
Fifty-Two
Sebastian’s body twitched as if he were cramping. Then he fell heavily across the laptop. Julia was sitting frozen to her chair. For a brief moment she imagined that Sebastian had in fact presented a threat and that Wallin had realized this and rendered him harmless. But then she saw the pistol in Wallin’s other hand. He raised it and aimed it straight at her face.
“Hands on the table,” he said. “Nice and gently.”
She did as he said and she tried to work out what was going on. Wallin walked around her, still pointing his pistol at her head. He was wearing black rubber gloves. When had he put those on?
“Keep looking straight ahead.”
He pulled her jacket up, removed her service weapon, and kicked it away across the floor. Then took out the cuffs she was carrying in a little pouch at the small of her back.
“Left hand,” he commanded, and she felt the cold metal against her wrist. “And the right.”
He cuffed her to the back of the chair. Then went and stood on the other side of the table and put his pistol back in its holster.
“I’m sorry about this, Julia. But you and I need to talk, and I had to take certain precautions.”
She finally got control of her voice. “What the fuck are you playing at, Oscar?”
“A perfectly justifiable question.”
Wallin held a couple of fingers to Sebastian’s neck, apparently checking how conscious he was. Then he felt in his pocket and pulled out a large, transparent plastic bag and a matchbox, which he put on the table.
“Let me explain. You and I have a unique opportunity. We’ve uncovered a secret, an incredibly potent one, and as I see it, we have two options. Either . . .”
Wallin slowly unfolded the plastic bag, opened the matchbox, and tipped about half the contents into the bag. A fine black powder that looked a bit like printer toner.
“. . . we reveal the secret. Probably by way of an anonymous tip-off to the press, seeing as we don’t know who we can trust in the police force. Jesper Stenberg goes down and drags a whole load of powerful people down with him. His father-in-law, the national police chief, possibly even the prime minister.”
Wallin closed the plastic bag and shook it gently, spreading the powder around inside it.
“But once the witch hunt is over and the dust has settled, what would be left for you and me? I’d get fired because I was too closely associated with Stenberg. And you . . .” He looked up and tilted his head slightly. “Well, at best I imagine that you’d be allowed to carry on slaving away in the Regional Crime Unit. Taking orders from whatever moron replaces Pärson. Assuming the police authority doesn’t find out that it was the pair of us who leaked the whole story. Because if that happens, we can probably count ourselves lucky if we get away with losing just our jobs.”
Julia was frantically trying to figure out what was going on. What was Wallin getting at, and what was the plastic bag for?
“The other option is that we do the exact opposite. We protect the secret. We guard it as preciously as if it were our own. Use it to our ad
vantage.”
“You mean blackmail,” Julia managed to say.
Wallin shook his head. “No, no, you misunderstand me. This isn’t about blackmailing anyone but showing that their secret is safe in our hands. Safer than ever, in fact. Because we’re prepared to go to great lengths to protect it.”
He fell silent and held two fingers to Sebastian’s neck again.
“Tasers are wonderful things. They leave very little evidence. Just two tiny scorch marks. The trick is to fire the Taser at the base of the hairline so the marks aren’t spotted during an autopsy. But then you have to get your opponent to look away. Distract him somehow.”
Julia straightened up.
“Amante,” she said drily. “Did you use the Taser on him?”
Wallin shrugged his shoulders. “I wasn’t expecting to find him out there. It looks like our little civilian was trying to play at being a real police officer, which was very bad luck for him. But in the long term his fate was unavoidable. Amante was a risk factor. One single unguarded remark to his father, Victor, and everything would come crashing down. He couldn’t be left at large.”
“You meant to burn him alive?” She was having difficulty keeping her voice steady. “Is that what you’re planning to tell Jesper Stenberg? That you’re so loyal, you’re prepared to kill to protect his secret?”
Wallin snorted. “You’re overestimating Jesper, I’m afraid. He’s neither ambitious nor strong enough to handle that sort of loyalty. Just as you and Amante suspected, he doesn’t know anything about Sarac. Other people took care of that for him. John Thorning is another example. Even Jesper has begun to suspect that his death came at a very opportune moment.”
“You mean you’re thinking of cooperating with the people who murdered Sarac and Thorning?” A drop of saliva flew out of her mouth with the last word.
“We could both do that. You’re smart, driven, ambitious. In no more than a year or so, Jesper Stenberg will be the new prime minister. You’d be working directly for him. Imagine the possibilities you and I would have. We wouldn’t have to listen to fat idiots like Pärson or incompetent bureaucrats like Kollander. Direct contact with the people in power. A place in the inner circle.”
He fell silent and left the unspoken question hanging in the air. Sebastian moved slightly and let out a faint whimper.
“And if I say no?” she said.
Wallin grabbed Sebastian’s body and pushed him back on his chair. Pulled the plastic bag over his head and pressed it tight over his nose and mouth. Through the plastic, Sebastian’s eyelids fluttered. He gasped for breath, breathing the black powder into his nose and throat. He coughed, raised his hands, and clawed at the thick plastic that was keeping him breathing. But his body hadn’t recovered from being Tasered and his movements were impotent. Julia could see the panic in Sebastian’s eyes, the silent scream that had caught in his gaping mouth.
“Stop it!” she shouted. “For fuck’s sake, stop it, Oscar!”
She stood up. The chair she was cuffed to went with her, making her movements slow and unsteady. Wallin kicked the table and the top of it hit her in the thighs, and she fell to the floor. She caught a brief glimpse of Sebastian’s feet jerking under the table. But by the time she had got to her knees, the movement had stopped. Wallin held the bag over Sebastian’s face for a few more seconds before releasing it and letting the body slump on the chair. His face was red, and there were beads of sweat on his brow.
“You’re completely . . .” She couldn’t find the right word. Nor the right thought. The whole room was swaying and she suddenly felt nauseous.
“I eliminated a risk. The question now is: Am I going to have to do it again?”
Wallin pulled the plastic bag off Sebastian’s head. He picked up the matchbox and refilled the bag with black powder. Julia swallowed.
“The whole business of fires is trickier that you’d think. I caused my first one when I was fifteen. Burned down my dad’s garden shed and scared the crap out of his new family. Dad never figured out it was me, and the police investigation never found anything. I’d done my homework; I’d read everything I could get my hands on about arson attacks. The Nordic Crime Chronicle was particularly good. ‘How Pyromaniacs Work’ was an almost perfect step-by-step guide to what to do.”
Wallin closed the bag again and shook it. Julia couldn’t take her eyes off his hands. That bag was meant for her. He was planning to kill her. Terror took hold of her chest, made her breathing shallower and shallower.
“Soot,” he said. “If a pathologist doesn’t find any in the airways of a burned body, he gets suspicious and concludes that death occurred before the fire. That’s why I left Amante alive, locked in the trunk. But I underestimated his will to survive. So many poor decisions are the result of underestimating people, so I really should have known better. That’s a mistake I shall have to correct. If he survives, of course.”
He pulled a disappointed face.
“Do you know what I think the worst thing about the whole Sophie Thorning incident is, Julia?”
“No.” She needed to pull herself together, think clearly. Try to find a way out.
“That Jesper didn’t call me instead of Frank Hunter. If he’d done that, we’d never have ended up in this position. A fucking security consultant he’d had dinner with a couple of times in The Hague. He even introduced us once in the cafeteria.” Wallin shook his head. “Jesper was easily impressed. He bought that whole macho soldier thing. But Hunter turned out to be both sloppy and disloyal. In the long run he ended up becoming a bigger problem than the one he was contracted to solve. Swapping Sarac’s secret for Stenberg’s was smart, I have to give him that. But Sarac, on the other hand . . .”
Wallin looked at Julia and seemed to be considering how to continue. He waved his hand. “It looks like whoever took care of that problem was rather better than Hunter. More ruthless, more efficient, and left very little evidence behind. Even so, you still tracked them down, which only goes to show how much Jesper Stenberg really does need us. People who can clean up after him without making mistakes.”
Wallin walked around the table with the plastic bag in one hand. He pulled her chair up so that she was once again sitting at the table. She looked at the man who had been her mentor, her ally. Or, rather, the man who had pretended to be those things. In actual fact he was a manipulative and cold-blooded murderer. And she hadn’t suspected a thing. Even though she regarded herself as something of an expert when it came to judging people’s characters. The humiliation she felt was almost as strong as her fear. And was gradually turning to anger.
“Now, I’ve got some questions for you. I want you to answer them honestly. It’s vital that we can trust each other.”
He raised his eyebrows and waited for her to answer. Julia said nothing. For a moment she contemplated screaming, then realized that no one would hear her. It made more sense to play along for a bit longer.
“To start with, are there any copies of the photographs? On your personal computer, for instance?”
She remained silent for a few more seconds, trying to work out what to say that could win her some more time. She decided to tell the truth.
“Yes. I’ve got a backup at home.”
Wallin scrutinized her, then nodded slowly. “Good. I believe you. I’d have done the same. Question number two.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Have you told anyone apart from Amante about my involvement in this case? A boyfriend, lover, family members, work colleagues?”
She ran the calculation through her head but came up with the same result.
“No, no one. Amante and I kept it to ourselves. I’m single right now, and my parents are dead.”
“Good, Julia. See, this is going splendidly.” Wallin smiled again and looked almost friendly.
She bit her top lip so hard, she could taste blood. If she could just reach her gun, she cou
ld blow his head off. For Amante’s sake, for Sebastian’s, and—not least—her own. But Wallin had kicked it away into one corner of the room.
“Third and most important question: Can you imagine continuing our collaboration? Protecting Jesper Stenberg’s secret, using it to achieve good things?”
She held her breath for a few seconds. There was only one answer, and she had to make it sound credible.
“Yes,” she said. “I can actually imagine continuing our collaboration.”
“And why would you want to do that?”
“Because there’s something I want—something I’m prepared to do practically anything for.”
“And that is?”
“I want to be head of National Crime. If you can manage that, I’m in.”
Wallin looked at her for several seconds. His eyes narrowed to slits.
“You lie well. Extremely well, in fact.”
He kicked her chair and she toppled over backward again. He threw himself on top of her before she had even hit the floor. She drove her knee up toward Wallin’s crotch but missed, and he grabbed her shoulder and knocked both her and the chair aside.
Instinctively she tried to get up on her knees. She realized too late that that was precisely what he wanted. The plastic bag was pulled over her head and she only just managed to fill her lungs with air before it covered her mouth and nose. He dragged her back, giving her an opportunity to put one foot down on the floor. She pushed off it with all her strength and jerked her head back and felt it hit his chin. His teeth snapped shut and his grip on the plastic bag loosened slightly. She managed to put her other foot on the floor and stand up, still pushing the chair backward against Wallin.
They staggered back. But the room was so small that Wallin hit the wall long before she had time to build up any momentum. The collision wasn’t hard enough to make him lose his grip. A weary thud was all she managed to accomplish before the plastic bag was pulled tight again.
“You little cunt . . .” Wallin hissed. He moved away from the wall, then jerked quickly and kicked her legs out from under her. The fall made the bag pull even tighter across her nose and mouth.
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