Okay, so he may have committed a weapons offence, but at least he had been trying to combat terrorism.
And he would probably have succeeded, if only the terrorists sister hadnt got involved …
And, hey presto, she was suddenly the scapegoat … !
So who had Thomas talked to up in the custody unit?
If it had all happened the way she imagined, there was really only one suspect.
She put her hands-free earpiece in, pressed one of the speed-dial buttons and waited a few moments.
Norrmalm custody unit, Myhrén.
Hi, Myhrén, this is Rebecca Normén, she said in an exaggeratedly cheery voice.
Hi, Normén, its been a while. What can a simple uniform do to help the Security Police? the man at the other end chuckled. He evidently hadnt heard that shed left, which suited her fine.
Just a quick question, Myhrén … she began.
Shoot!
You brought in a bloke from the Grand Hotel this morning. A foreigner suspected of weapons offences … ?
Hmm.
She heard him rustling some papers in the background.
Who was it who interviewed him, do you know?
Hold on!
More rustling. Then he came back.
Right, Normén. He was brought in by one of our patrols and was going to be interviewed by Bengtsson, who was on call this morning. But he insisted on talking to a different colleague. One of yours, to be more precise …
Do you know who?
She was unconsciously holding her breath.
Er, yes, Ive got his name here. He signed in on the register … Superintendent Eskil Stigsson.
It hadnt been easy getting up there.
First hed had to circle round a load of little streets. Then clamber over a few fences and walls until he was in the right courtyard.
And now he was paying the price for his exertions. His body ached, his t-shirt was wet with sweat, and even though hed been sitting in the alcove by the window for a fair while, his pulse didnt seem to want to return to normal.
He wondered if it was time to take one of the horse tablets that Doctor Nora had given him. But stupidly he hadnt brought anything to drink, and there was no way he was going to swallow one of those depth-charges dry. It would have to wait …
At least his lookout post was perfect. He was in the building diagonally opposite his own, at the very top of the stairwell, with a full view of everything going on down in the street.
The cop van was still there, but both the driver and the plain-clothes cop were gone. Probably hiding in the back.
They were no ordinary surveillance team, hed already worked that much out. The guy with the earpiece reeked of cop too much, as did the black minibus. They were more like uniformed gorillas whod got dressed up in civvies.
Which could really only mean one thing.
At that moment another similar minibus slowly rolled up from Hornsgatan. It stopped outside his door. The man in the passenger seat raised a microphone to his mouth. The next moment the street was crawling with cops.
The door to his building was thrown open and a gang of the heaviest orcs stormed inside. A couple of them were carrying something that looked like a battering ram.
It wouldnt take them long to smash down his already badly damaged front door.
Besides, theyd already practised once.
Yet another weird déjà vu to add to the collection …
His bladder was so full he could hardly sit still, but he couldnt take his eyes off the scene below. This time they hadnt been so ambitious with their roadblocks, and werent shutting down the whole district.
A patrol car with flashing blue lights was blocking the street further down, and he could see people already starting to gather behind the cordon. Then he saw the roller-blind in one of his windows sway.
Fucking good job he hadnt bothered to do any cleaning …
So what the hell did the cops think they were going to find this time? It didnt take him long to realize …
Him, of course!
Stigsson could go to hell.
She was going to get hold of Henke even if it meant she had to kick his door in. She had to make sure he was okay, that Thomass story was all rubbish. And that he was keeping well away from the Game, the Event, the Circus or whatever else it was called …
She changed lane, put her foot down and overtook three cars, only to pull back quickly into the right-hand lane and take the next exit.
The car behind her flashed its headlights at her and she responded by sticking her middle finger up over her right shoulder.
She turned into Hornsgatan, and accelerated to get over the hill.
Then she saw the flashing blue lights ahead and slowed down.
A patrol car was parked at the junction, and two uniformed colleagues were busy setting up a cordon across the entrance to Maria Trappgränd.
She crawled past, trying to see what had happened. But all she managed to see was that the door to Henkes building was open. The nausea she had felt earlier that day suddenly flared up again, and she hurriedly found a free parking space a bit further down the road.
As luck would have it, one of the officers by the cordon recognized her and, without a single word from her, held the plastic tape up to let her through.
She found the rapid-response unit in the stairwell. Six men, all dressed in civilian clothing, but they might as well have been in uniform. The holsters and bulletproof vests they were wearing on top of their clothes didnt exactly make a discreet impression …
A couple of the officers nodded to her, but it wasnt until she almost reached the flat that she realized which unit they were from. He was standing in the hall with his back to the doorway, which gave her a few moments to compose herself.
Hello, Tobbe, she said as calmly as she could.
He jerked and spun round.
Er, h-hi Becca … he said, apparently not sure where he should look. I was just wondering if I should call you …
Were you? What for? She stepped carefully over the remains of the front door.
The hall was so cramped that he had to press back against the wall so she could squeeze past.
The proximity seemed to make him even more nervous.
The flat. I mean, we used to …
… meet here, she concluded.
She turned round and looked at him. He was still pretty good looking, and for a brief moment she could almost feel the physical attraction again. But only almost …
There was the sound of steps from the stairs, it sounded as though several people were on their way up.
If I were you, Tobbe, Id stay really fucking quiet about that, she said in a low voice.
A pair of forensics officers in overalls, each carrying a large case of tools, appeared in the doorway.
All clear? one of them asked.
Sure, go ahead. Tobbe Lundh gestured in at the flat.
The two men squeezed past and a short while later their cameras began to whirr.
What was the thinking behind all this? she said, leaning forward so the forensics officers wouldnt hear her. Tobbe looked quickly over his shoulder.
Theres a warrant out for your brother, suspicion of attempted murder.
What?!
He nodded and glanced over his shoulder again.
I dont know any more than that, the Security Police are in charge of the investigation, were just helping out. Theyll be here any moment. Maybe you should go … ?
She shook her head.
No, she had no intention of going anywhere. She wanted to get to the bottom of this, once and for all. Henke might be an idiot, a gullible fool with an oversized ego and zero ability to control his impulses. But he was no murderer, not even a failed murderer.
Unless … ?
In purely theoretical terms, perhaps he was, but Dag had been a different matter.
An entirely different matter …
She took a couple of steps further into the flat. God, the state it was in! The flat was usually untidy, but this gave the word an entirely new dimension. There were piles of newspapers all over the place in the hall and kitchen, and the stench of cigarette smoke and rubbish was so strong it made her eyes sting.
All the roller-blinds were down, and the only light came from the bare bulb in the ceiling.
The walls looked odd, all stripy, and it took her a moment to realize what the dark patches were. Duct tape. It looked like hed taped over all the cracks and sockets.
She carried on into the living room. Same thing there, piles of papers, overflowing improvized ashtrays, and all cracks and sockets completely covered.
Must have used at least ten rolls, one of the forensics officers concluded, taking a few shots with his camera.
Poor sod was probably worried about radiation …
He zoomed in on one of the covered plug sockets and took another series of pictures.
Either that or he was being bugged by aliens, the other one said with a grin as he picked up his box of tools.
Ill take the bedroom, he said to his colleague, then vanished through the door.
She heard voices in the hall, several of them familiar, and took a deep breath.
Stigsson came through the door and behind him she could make out Runebergs great bulk.
So youre here already … Stigsson said drily. He didnt even sound surprised. Have you touched anything in here, Normén?
No, of course not …
Good. But well have to insist that you empty your pockets on the way out. Runeberg, can you deal with that?
Sure, no problem, her former boss mumbled, taking a step forward.
You spoke to Thomas when he was in custody, she said, fixing Stigsson with her cop stare. He didnt even blink.
Of course.
Was it you who suggested that it might possibly have been Henke down at the Grand? Supplying him with a suitable perpetrator so that you could carry on harassing my brother?