It was Nora, the vet. She dropped a gym bag on the floor beside him.
For one terrible moment he thought it was stripy, made in needlework class when he was at school, and had his phone number on it. But when he touched it he found to his relief that this bag was made of nylon.
Th-thanks, he managed to stammer.
Get dressed quickly, we have to go!
Biffalo Bull from the vets, Jeff or whatever his name was.
What the fuck are you doing here … ? HP spluttered, but neither of them answered. How did you find … ?
He broke off.
It was the phone, wasnt it?
Good guess, Einstein! Jeff grinned.
We have to get out of here, HP, right now, Nora said. Every cop in the country is looking for you. If anyone in the main building works out there are people in here …
Okay, okay. He quickly pulled on the pants, tracksuit bottoms, t-shirt and hooded jacket.
Everything fitted perfectly, even the trainers.
As if they knew exactly what size he was.
You still look pretty rough, are you taking the pills? Nora asked.
Mmm, he murmured. But I must have eaten something dodgy. Ive had the shits really fucking badly.
She went past him to the windowsill and picked up the pills.
Okay, Ill give you a few more in case you threw up the last lot …
He put the rest of his things in his pockets and gave his damp clothes one last look.
Okay, Im done. Thanks for your help!
Right, lets get going. Jeff pointed at the door.
Sorry, dont know if youd listened to your messages, but Im not interested in getting involved. Not my cup of tea …
Neither of them moved.
Listen, mate, Jeff said in a tone of voice that was anything but friendly. That wasnt a request …
He took a firm grasp of HPs right bicep and gestured to Nora to lead the way.
He waited a moment until she was a few metres away.
Do me a favour, he hissed at HP as he squeezed his arm tighter. You and I have a bit of unfinished business, so how about putting up a bit of resistance? Just a bit?
What the fuck are you talking about?
Number 32 Birkagatan, does that ring any bells? I had to go to A&E to get that red spray-paint out of my eyes. I was off sick for a week, and my girlfriend didnt dare to stay after youd left your little message on our door …
So that was where he knew the musclebound moron from!
Well, two years had passed, and hed only caught glimpses of a bright red face and a tattooed arm, but now, in hindsight, it was obvious.
Remember rule number one.
The fans liked it when you fried a …
Rat … He blurted it out in a fit of Tourettes, and he felt Jeff twitch. The grip around his arm got even tighter, and for a moment he thought Jeff was going to hit him.
Are you coming, or what? Nora said.
A short silence.
Sure, were coming, Jeff muttered, and shoved HP ahead of him.
Their car was parked on the other side of the wall.
Get in! Jeff held one of the back doors open.
Not until you tell me where were going!
Get in, I said. Jeff took a step closer and clenched his fists.
Like fuck will I. He looked over his shoulder, trying to find an escape route. But unfortunately he was on an island, and he had serious doubts about his ability to cope with a long run.
Okay, calm down, both of you.
Nora again. She put her hand on Jeffs shoulder and the intimacy of the gesture made HP dislike the bodybuilder even more.
But it seemed to work, because Jeff lowered his hands.
Were going to a meeting, she said curtly. Its not far, then afterwards well drop you wherever you want to go.
He didnt move.
Come on, HP, you can hardly be scared of a meeting …
She winked at him, and suddenly he found himself trying not to smile. He stood there for a few more seconds, pretending to think about it. But really he was far too tired to think about anything.
Okay, he sighed with a shrug. Lets do it …
The dark Volvo pulled up outside her door.
The driver hardly had time to put the handbrake on before she was out on the pavement.
She had already been waiting fifteen minutes in the dark stairwell, and having to wait had done nothing to improve her mood.
She jumped into the back seat and slammed the door hard behind her.
What the hell is going on? she snarled.
Calm down, Ill explain everything. Just give me a chance, please.
Tage Sammer held his hands up in such an exaggerated way that she had trouble staying angry.
Okay, she said, then took a deep breath. Im listening …
As you already know, I work with security issues. I have done ever since I left the military. The Palace, or rather the office of the Marshal of the Realm, is one of my clients.
Yes, I worked that out, she snapped. So why didnt you say so when we last met, and why are you called André Pellas instead of Tage Sammer? And how does my brother fit into the picture … ?
He put one hand on her arm to get her to stop.
We can set off now, Jonsson, he said unnecessarily loudly to the chauffeur.
Of course, Colonel. The chauffeur put the car into gear and pulled away from the kerb.
Tage Sammer leaned closer to her.
You have to understand, Rebecca, he said, just like your father, sometimes I have to use different names. André Pellas is the name I went by earlier in my career.
Military Intelligence, yes?
It was dark in the back seat, but she thought she could see his face twitch slightly.
I found an old picture of you in a book about Cyprus, she added.
I see …
A brief silence followed.
Well, I should have known better than to underestimate you, Rebecca, he said with a wry smile.
Your father was also very diligent in his work, preparing everything very thoroughly, never leaving anything to chance …
He took a deep breath.
After the attack in Kungsträdgården two years ago, the Palace realized that they needed to improve their handling of security and intelligence. The Marshal of the Realm and I are old acquaintances, which is why he contacted me. As you know, His Majesty has had a number of …
He paused and seemed to be searching for the right words.
… PR-related difficulties, one might say.
You mean that muckraking book, and the friends who employed gangsters, and the rumours about …
Perhaps we neednt go into detail … he interrupted. But any decrease in public support goes hand in hand with an increased level of risk, and with an event like the princesss wedding just around the corner, everyone is rather more nervous than usual.
I can understand that, but the Security Police are already on top of all that …
Naturally, of course they are. But the incident in Kungsträdgården a couple of years ago showed that there were clear deficiencies both in the evaluation of the threat level, and in communication between the Palace and the Security Police. My role is to act as a link. To bridge potential differences of opinion, if you understand what I mean?
He brought his fingertips together to illustrate his point, and suddenly she couldnt help smiling. The gesture was so obvious, and so familiar.
I am also able to contribute the experience and network of contacts I have built up during my thirty years or so in the world of international security, he went on. Offering a second opinion, so to speak …
The car climbed to the crown of the Western Bridge, then continued down towards Hornstull.
Down to their right they could make out the dark edifice of the old prison on Långholmen.
We believe that the attack in Kungsträdgården was carried out by a particular network. A group calling itself the Circus, the Event, and occasionally …
The Game, she interjected.
Exactly! I presume you heard about it from Henrik?
She nodded.
To begin with I thought it was just talk. Another one of his stories …
But as time went by you became more convinced?
Yes, especially after Id talked to …
She bit her lip.
… Magnus Sandström? Sammer concluded. Or Farook Al-Hassan, as he calls himself these days.
She didnt answer.
Dont worry, Rebecca, we know all about Sandström. Weve had our eyes on him for quite a while. We know that one of his tasks was to recruit people whom the Game might find useful.
People like Henke, you mean?
Precisely. Your brother is an excellent example of an active participant. But Sandström and his like also recruit other more … passive resources.
Such as?
He leaned even closer and lowered his voice almost to a whisper.
Such as you, for instance …
17
Game change
They parked in a garage near Södra station.
Here.
Nora handed him a pair of cheap sunglasses.
And pull your hood up as well.
He didnt really understand why until they passed a tobacconists and he saw his own glazed expression from his passport photograph staring out at him from the wall.
SWEDENS MOST WANTED MAN! the flysheet screamed, so loudly that he felt like covering his ears.
Okay? Nora said quietly.
Sure … he mumbled, without sounding at all convincing. Is it much further?
She shook her head.
Were heading to Fatbursparken first, then were almost there.
They walked round some portacabins and made their way along a fence surrounding a building site.
The music and noise from the pavement cafés up in Medborgarplatsen were clearly audible.
Jeff stopped for a moment and looked around.
Through there, he said, pointing to an opening in the fence.