The subject is conspiracy theories, and here comes your thousand-kronor question …
Mmm … he muttered, seeing as he was evidently expected to say something. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples to buy himself a bit of thinking time. What the fuck was the woman banging on about? Destabilizing the political what … ?
Ive already told you at least a dozen times, I want a lawyer present during the interview, he said quietly.
The woman, whose name was Roslund or Roskvist, something like that, exchanged a quick glance with her colleague.
Yes, we heard you, Henrik, the policeman said. HP had already forgotten his name. But weve been waiting several hours. At least we can get some of the formalities out of the way before your lawyer shows up.
He is coming, isnt he – or she? How many law firms have you called? He tilted his head and smiled in a way that left no room for misinterpretation.
Of course theres a lawyer coming … Henrik mumbled.
Well then, how about making a start? To save us all a bit of time, the policeman added with another smile.
Unless theres anyone else youd like to call? Someone close to you … ?
No! HP interrupted, slightly too loudly, as he sat himself up.
He saw the look in their eyes. Bollocks, hed been trying to play it cool …
Ive got all the time in the world, and Im not going to say anything until Ive got a lawyer, he said as calmly as he could, staring down at the tabletop.
But by all means – feel free to talk away … he muttered a couple of seconds later, mainly to break the oppressive silence.
Good suggestion, Henrik. The male police officer, whose name HP still couldnt remember, pulled out a chair and sat down. He took out a little digital recorder from the pocket of his jacket and put it on the table between them.
Interview with Henrik Pettersson, known as HP, third of June, time 15.13. Officers present, Police Inspectors Roswall and …
… Hellström.
Stigsson had pressed a button next to the window and suddenly the lead interviewers voice could be heard from the speakers.
So what exactly is Henke supposed to have done? Rebecca said to no-one in particular, while Hellström went on talking to the recording device.
She was doing her best to sound calm, as if she wasnt that worried about the answer.
Weve received information which suggests that your brother is planning some sort of terrorist attack against the state, possibly connected to the princesss wedding …
Youre kidding! she exclaimed, unable to stop herself.
Stigsson gave her a quick look and she bit her tongue. Obviously, this was all just a big practical joke, the Security Police were renowned for their sense of humour, and Stigsson here was a brilliant stand-up comedian …
Pull yourself together, for Gods sake, Normén!
A mistake – this was clearly some sort of huge mistake. They must have got Henke mixed up with someone else and broken into the wrong flat. It would hardly be the first time information was wrong, after all …
Weve also been made aware that this is by no means the first time your brother has been involved in this sort of criminal activity …
You mean that business with Dag, she cut him off. Henke was only trying to protect me. Besides, that was almost fifteen years ago …
Stigsson shook his head.
No, no, not the incident in which your boyfriend was killed, even if that isnt entirely without interest as part of the bigger picture … This is about something else entirely. See for yourself.
He gestured towards the interview room, where one of the officers had just switched on a video projector. A recording from a shaky hand-held camera appeared on one wall, blue sky and some dark buildings. Then slender trees and a row of pavement cafés. Kungsträdgården, more specifically: Kungsträdgårdsgatan. In the background there was a clattering sound that was getting louder and louder. It took her a few moments before she suddenly realized what it was. Horses hooves … A lot of horses hooves on tarmac. When the royal cortege appeared in shot she noticed she was trembling …
He recognized the film at once. Kungsträdgårdsgatan, exactly two years ago, the cortege with the royal couple and the Greek president.
The soldiers bobbing along on their horses, the spectators on the pavements fiddling with their mobiles. Hed seen it on film hundreds of times, recognized every face, every expression. The guy with the dog, the woman in the white hat, the German tourists with their huge rucksacks … He knew the rest of it by heart. Any moment now a flash would bleach the image, and a bang like the one he had experienced in his flat would make the hand holding the camera shake. Then complete chaos, galloping horses, soldiers on the ground, people screaming in panic.
But instead of focusing on the cortege as he had expected, the camera suddenly began to pan round. It wavered for a few seconds, then slid along the crowd lining one side of the road.
And it came to rest on a familiar figure, then zoomed in slowly until the person filled almost the entire screen.
HP couldnt help squirming. Suddenly he felt a bit sick.
A man dressed in black sitting on an EU moped. The tinted helmet might be obscuring his face, but Rebecca had no trouble recognizing him. His posture, jerky movements, the way he held his head slightly tilted. There was no doubt at all …
She had suspected it at the time, but had deliberately not asked because she hadnt wanted to know the answer …
The man on the screen reached into a plastic bag that was hanging from the handlebar, pulled out a cylindrical object and started to fiddle with it. The noise of horses hooves got steadily louder as the cortege approached. The camera zoomed in even closer. The man looked up, waiting for a moment with the object in both hands. Then he suddenly jerked one hand and raised his arm. She already knew what he was about to throw.
The blast from the grenade made this film shake as well, but the cameraman didnt shift his focus from the moped. According to the timer in one corner of the screen, he sat there impassively for ten seconds, watching the effects of what he had done, before putting the bike into gear, making a sharp u-turn and disappearing down Wahrendorffsgatan.
The film stopped abruptly and the room fell silent. HP shifted on his chair and swallowed uneasily a couple of times. A couple of clicks on the computer and suddenly a still of him covered the whole screen. A freeze-frame image of the precise moment when he threw the grenade.
His arm in the air, his body coiled like a spring. When you added the tinted helmet, he looked pretty alarming, to put it mildly.
So, Henrik, Hellström began, in a considerably less friendly tone of voice than before. Is that …
… your brother on the screen?
Stigsson and Runeberg were both looking at her now, and for a few seconds her head was completely blank. Her blouse was sticking under her jacket, and the air in the little room suddenly felt stale and difficult to breathe. Their eyes seemed to be boring right through her.
She glanced into the interview room, but there was total silence in there as well. She had to try to gain a bit of time, get a chance to think things through … But to judge from the looks on both mens faces they were expecting an immediate answer.
So what was she supposed to do? Lie, or tell the truth?
Make a decision, for Gods sake!
She gulped a couple of times to clear the lump in her throat.
Well … she began.
You dont have to answer, Henrik!
The door to the interview room opened and a tall man with slicked back grey hair walked in. With a flourish the man undid the gold buttons on his blazer and sat down on the empty chair beside Henke. At that moment Rebecca realized that she knew him.
My client declines to answer that question, the man said, this time looking at the police officers as he lifted his briefcase onto the table and snapped it open. He took out a folder.
Well, now Id like to know why this interview has already started even though my client clearly stated that he wished to have his legal representative present. As Im sure you are aware, this is in breach of chapter twenty-one of the Penal Code …
Johan Sandels!
Runebergs surprised exclamation drowned out the rest of the lawyers speech.
How the hell did your brother manage to get hold of a heavyweight like that at such short notice?
Ive got no idea, she replied with a shrug.
That much was completely true.
What the hell was going on?
3
Timeout
The metal gate swung shut behind him and he took a couple of steps out into Bergsgatan. Freedom again – fuck, what a relief!
The prosecutor had backed down almost immediately. A blurry film-clip was evidently not sufficient grounds to hold him, at least not if Johan Sandels was involved.
The cops clearly hadnt done their homework, and still thought he was the sort of small fry they could scare the shit out of with a nocturnal break-in, a few hours waiting and then a stint in the hot seat.
A couple of years ago that might well have worked, and indeed probably had worked. But he was a totally different person now, and was playing in a considerably higher league than the cops could possibly realize.
Even if he had chosen to break rule number one and tell them what had actually happened, their tiny little cop brains would never have been able to accept the truth.