Stigsson shook his head.
No need. The television crew who were there were kind enough to share their recording. The perpetrator is clearly visible. Theres no doubt that it was your brother. On the film hes about to pull something from his coat pocket, something that Mr Thomas is certain was a gun. He might be mistaken, but unfortunately, as you know, a certain confusion broke out after your warning shot, which makes it impossible to see what happened next. Thomas is an extremely credible witness, and, considering the previous suspicions against your brother, obviously we cant take any risks. What with the royal wedding imminent, its probably safest for everyone if hes locked up …
He waited a few seconds, as if he were expecting her to say something.
Was there anything else you were wondering about, Normén? If not, weve got work to do here …
She opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment the forensics officer came back into the room.
You should probably take a look at this … he said.
Hed gone for a piss behind a bike shed in the courtyard, then found a tap and managed to get one of the horse pills down. His stomach was grumbling and he probably ought to do something about that, give up on all this and just lie low for a few days until the whole story had leaked out into the evening tabloids and he could read up about whatever the fuck was going on. Besides, he had a plan of his own to stick to: getting hold of Erman and squeezing out everything he knew about the Game.
But he couldnt quite tear himself away, not quite yet, at least.
There was certainly a degree of satisfaction to be had from being one step ahead for a change.
Hunting the hunters.
The cops had already emptied the flat in their first raid, so obviously it was him they were looking for. Him personally. The stupid bastards must have thought he was at home.
If the cops had only been a bit less obvious, theyd have been right and hed be back in a cell by now.
Something told him he wouldnt get out quite so easily next time …
Installed back at his window again, he saw the car was already parked outside his door. A big, dark, stretched Volvo with little chrome flag-holders on the side of the bonnet. Not exactly a surveillance car …
The driver was still in the car, but the passengers seemed to have gone inside already.
The car had black number-plates with yellow lettering, and it took him a moment to work out what that meant. The car belonged to the military.
This was all getting curiouser and curiouser …
One of the walls in the bedroom was almost completely covered by newspaper cuttings that had been taped up with thick strips of duct tape. Close together, so that they overlapped and occasionally obscured each other. In the middle were photographs of Black from various magazines, all with his face circled with black marker pen in a way that reminded her of the cross hairs of a snipers sights.
There was a freestanding headline with the words HE IS THE ONE! above the whole lot.
Stigsson gave her a quick sideways glance.
Do you still think your brothers innocent?
She didnt answer. Her mouth suddenly felt bone-dry, and her stomach had contracted. Would-be assassin or not, clearly it had been Henke down at the Grand, and she hadnt even recognized him. Or had she?
If she had hesitated a moment longer, hed probably be dead now. Thomas would have shot him.
Or another of the bodyguards. She herself, perhaps …
The floor lurched and for a few seconds she considered sitting down on the bed. Apart from a cup of coffee and a dry cheese sandwich she had managed to gulp down out at the Fortress, she hadnt eaten properly for almost twenty-four hours. And as far as sleep was concerned, she was even worse off.
But now wasnt the time to fall apart. Henke wasnt in a good way, that much was obvious. He needed help, as soon as possible before he did something even more stupid.
She took a deep breath and turned towards Stigsson to say something.
Just then two men in suits walked into the room.
One was in his thirties, thin, with short hair and dark-framed glasses.
The other man was Tage Sammer.
Colonel Pellas, excellent, Stigsson said, and the two men shook hands.
Youve met my colleague, Superintendent Runeberg, before, and this is …
Rebecca Normén, the suspects sister, Sammer said quickly, holding out his hand. Good to meet you, my name is André Pellas, Im linked to the security organization at the Palace.
She mumbled something and shook his hand as she tried to meet his gaze, but he was deliberately looking away.
May I introduce Edler, my adjutant.
He gestured with his stick towards the man in glasses, who nodded briefly in greeting.
So, what do we know, Eskil … ? Sammer turned towards Stigsson.
Unfortunately the suspect wasnt here, but we have been able to confirm that he was fixated upon Black … He pointed to the wall of cuttings.
Sammer gave Edler a quick nod, and the younger man went over to the wall and began looking through the cuttings.
Have you found anything of interest to the Palace?
Not since the video clip … Stigsson said. But theres been a warrant out for Pettersson since this morning, and apart from this flat he basically has nowhere to go, and Normén here has promised her full cooperation.
He nodded towards Rebecca.
She opened her mouth, then realized that she didnt know what to say. Thoughts were churning round her head, without any real coherence.
The Grand Hotel, events up at the Fortress, the flat, and now Sammer popping up like a jack-in-the-box, turning out to be acquainted with both Stigsson and Runeberg …
Colonel Pellas, you should probably see this.
Edler had lifted up a few of the cuttings. Behind them were other pictures, also with peoples faces circled with black marker pen. He held up some of the cuttings at random. The result was the same.
Beneath all of the cuttings were photographs of the royal family.
He saw them emerge from the front door.
First a big, stiff gorilla who could have been a poster boy for the Police Academy. Then some little grey men in suits who seemed to be deeply engaged in serious discussion. He didnt recognize the shorter one, but he identified Sammer.
His heart began to beat faster.
The Game Master and the cop – hand in hand, just as he had suspected.
When Becca came out of the door his mood sank at least two notches.
Sammer, the cop and Becca wasnt a good combo, no matter how you looked at it.
But it was the final member of the group that really shocked him.
Holy …
Fucking …
Shit …
16
Quit while youre ahead
Welcome to Kroken dry cleaners. Please leave a message.
He was so wound up he almost forgot to wait for the bleep.
Youre fucked! he yelled into the receiver as he jogged in the direction of Skinnarviksparken.
The Source, the man who recruited you … He works for the Game Master. I just saw them together …
His throat suddenly felt thick and he coughed a few times in an attempt to clear it.
And if he works for the Game Master, then so do you … You can fuck right off, never contact me again! Never, got that … ?
Halfway out into the street he was hit by another fit of coughing and had to bend over.
A car swept past dangerously close and the driver blew his horn. He didnt even have the energy to gesticulate back.
Erman, the little bastard, hadnt come back from the dead with a plan for revenge in his back pocket. Instead he seemed to have got absolution from the Game Master … which was actually completely logical. After all, Ermans only crime was that he wanted to be an active participant in everything. To carry on messing about with his beloved servers. And he was one of the best in the world at what he did, which had obviously helped his case. PayTag must have been crying out for experts in servers for their massive project.
Supply and demand, and, just like magic, Erman was suddenly forgiven and back from the cold. Capitalism rules!
So why the hell had he gathered together that bunch of losers? And why goad them into breaking into the jewel in the Games crown? There was obviously some sort of plan behind it all, a plan that also included him and Becca.
But, just like everything else that had happened to him in recent days, it was no longer possible to make all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. His brain had gone into overdrive, and the jog had got his pulse racing at a dangerous level, so he aimed for the nearest park bench.
This was so totally fucked up he couldnt handle it any more. The very thought that he had once dreamed of getting back into that whole crazy circus made him feel sick. The Game was obviously out to get him, and the same went for the cops …
All he wanted right now was to take off, get a very long way away and crawl into a hole somewhere until it had all blown over.
But Rebecca was still stuck in the shit, literally led by the nose by the Game Master, with Erman, the treacherous bastard, scuttling along behind.
Obviously that was no coincidence, nothing the Game Master did was a coincidence.
He leaned his head in his hands and struggled with another coughing fit.
His skin felt hot, not just because of the exertion, so his fever was probably back.
That was all he needed …
He needed grub, then a bit of cash to fix up somewhere quiet where he could gather his strength and try to make sense of this mess.