So whose version was true?
Who could she trust?
Which of them could help her rescue Henke?
She leaned back in the sofa and went through everything that had happened in the last few days once more, but she still couldnt shake the feeling that she was missing something.
Even though it was the middle of summer, the wooden seat still felt ice-cold on his arse.
The planks of the toilet door had shrunk, and let in enough light for him to see the earwigs running about at the foot of the door.
Jeff and Hasselqvist had got busy with the equipment immediately after the run-through. He had hoped to get a private chat with Nora, but she seemed to prefer hanging out with Manga in the kitchen. So mother nature got his undivided attention instead.
It was actually pretty sweet, taking a dump outside, at least in the summer. Obviously there was no toilet paper, but there was a bundle of old newspapers that would probably do the job. And – handily – they also fulfilled his almost obsessive need to read something while he took a crap.
Upsala Nya Tidning. Uppsalas new newspaper …
Well, this one was from 1986, so it wasnt that new any more.
33-year-old released from custody
Police: no comment
The 33-year-old … Wasnt that the first bloke arrested for Palmes murder? Ended up getting shot in the States, if he remembered rightly … Speaking of the USA, PayTag were devious bastards. Together with the Game Master, theyd managed to fuck him over more than once, getting him tortured in Dubai, then using him to sink ArgosEye so that they could turn the merry widow, Anna Argos, into their new superstar …
And what had he got in return?
A couple of million as a sticking plaster, but that was probably loose change for a company like PayTag. A shitty little accounting error!
And now theyd spent the past few weeks trying to break him, and had come pretty fucking close to succeeding. And now every police force in Sweden was looking for him … So why the hell was he stupid enough to consider sticking his head into the lions den again?
Well …
Revenge was obviously one motivation, and a fucking strong one at that.
Just the thought of the look on the Game Masters face when their main sponsor suddenly discovered a spoke in their wheel was worth the risk. He, Black and Anna Argos all in the same room, shouting at each other. So fucking sweet!
But there were other factors.
The excitement.
The thrill of the chase.
Besides, he had a whole load of mysteries to unravel, and not just concerning the gang he was with.
Who was the Carer? And what was the Luttern labyrinth, where it looked like the bomb was going to be placed? Who was it going to be aimed at?
And, maybe most important of all: how did Becca fit into all of this?
Shes sitting in the passenger seat.
Dads driving, Mum and Henke are in the back.
Theyre weaving through a maze of narrow streets, and only when she sees the huge church on the hill to their left does she realize where they are.
Döbelnsgatan, next to Johannes Church, on their way up the Brunkeberg ridge in Stockholm.
Henke is no more than six or seven years old, and hes making a fuss in the back seat. Mums trying to keep him quiet, telling him its not far now. Dad says nothing, but she can see his jaw clench.
Henke whines, and she turns round to help Mum.
Thats when she sees him.
Hes standing completely still a short way into the darkened churchyard, and seems to be watching them as the car slowly glides past. In one hand she can make out the glow of a cigar. In the other he is holding a stick. Without really knowing why, she raises her hand to wave.
Do you know John Earnest, Rebecca? her Mum asks gently.
Quiet! Dad suddenly roars, and Henke starts crying.
Make him shut up, for Gods sake! She sees his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Mum shouts back something that she doesnt hear.
She raises her hands and presses them to her ears.
But the voice goes on whispering inside her head.
Do you know John Earnest, Rebecca?
The car carries on through the slush, and suddenly she realizes where theyre going.
As they reach the top of the hill and Döbelnsgatan turns into Malmskillnadsgatan, the scenario suddenly changes.
Now its her adult self sitting behind the wheel.
The sound of Henke crying is still coming from the back seat, but when she looks in the rear-view mirror she sees Tage Sammers face instead.
Forward, Rebecca, not backward. You have to look forward, he says in a tone of voice thats so sad it pains her heart.
And, just as she looks back at the road, hes suddenly there, right in front of the bonnet. A man dressed in a dark jacket with the collar turned up around his face. He must have come up the steep steps off to the right. The steps that lead down to Tunnelgatan, where a prime minister is lying, dying.
She slams on the brakes, the wheels lock and the car carries on sliding forward through the slush.
Straight towards the man.
Henkes crying is turning into a scream.
She releases the brakes, then slams them on again.
Trying to get a grip.
But its hopeless.
The man turns his head, holds his hand towards her, as if to protect himself. Then she sees the revolver in his other hand.
Daddy, noooo!! Henke screams.
Or is she the one who says it?
Then she hears another voice, far away.
Its calling her name.
Rebecca, Rebecca.
And the very moment she wakes up, she finally realizes what it is thats wrong.
The name.
She lay still on the sofa for a few minutes, thinking, fitting the new information into everything she had been through over the past few days.
Then she got up, fetched her mobile and scrolled through the contacts until she found the right number.
Its me, she said as soon as the man at the other end answered. I think I understand how it all fits together now. Dad, Henke, the Game – everything.
Just tell me what you want me to do!
24
Corporate invasion of private memory
Hed just taken the first drag of his morning cigarette, and was on his way round the corner of the barn when he heard their voices and stopped abruptly.
He cant be trusted, dont you get that? Jeff snarled. Hes way too involved, hes done too much …
Like me, you mean?
Noras voice, just a metre or so away.
HP pressed against the wall and pricked his ears.
Thats different. This guys got no scruples at all.
Ah, so the loving couple didnt trust Manga either, or at least one of them didnt. Maybe hed have to upgrade Jeff a bit, the bloke clearly wasnt as stupid as he looked.
Everyone deserves another chance, Jeff. Besides, we need him.
I have no problem giving people a second chance, Nora, but they have to show some sign of regret first. Show theyve changed. But he still doesnt think of anyone but himself, dont tell me you havent noticed that?
HP couldnt help grinning. A lovers tiff out here in the bush …
Youre just annoyed because he spray-painted your door …
HPs smile died instantly.
I had to spend seven hours in A&E because of that, if you remember?
Yes, and I really do appreciate you doing this for me, Jeff …
HP pulled a face. As if it wasnt enough that it was him they were talking about, Noras voice also had a tender quality that he didnt like.
Ill always be grateful to you for helping me. Without you Id still be stuck in the Game … she continued.
Then there was a short silence, and HP suddenly got the feeling theyd realized he was eavesdropping on them.
But then she went on.
You know this is important. Not just for me, but for everyone theyve exploited and are still exploiting. If we can do this, then its all over …
Jeff muttered something inaudible.
Give him a chance, Jeff, thats all Im asking …
Fuck!
The burned-out cigarette was searing his fingers, and he was forced to drop it in the grass and stamp on it hard several times to put it out.
When he looked round the corner Jeff and Nora were gone, but at least he was a bit wiser.
Jeff obviously wasnt a fan of his, not that he had ever had any reason to believe that he was, which pretty much meant the musclebound hunk could be removed from the list of candidates for A.F. But, on the other hand, Biffalo Bull could still be a traitor, at least as long as the treachery didnt affect Nora.
He walked round the corner and slipped slowly into the barn. Hasselqvist was busy doing something right at the back of the van.
Hi, Kent, HP shouted through the open side-door. Hasselqvist jumped and dropped whatever it was he was holding.
A round object, a bit like an ice-hockey puck, came rolling across the floor towards the door. Hasselqvist leaped at it but HP was quicker.
So what have we got here, then? he said jokily, holding the puck up.
Hasselqvist grabbed it out of his hands.
None of your business! he snarled, and HP took an involuntary step back.
Sorry, he muttered.
But Hasselqvist pulled the door shut right in his face. But no matter, hed had time to read the inscription on the side of the little puck.
Elite GPS 512.
Interesting.
Very interesting …
He carried on through the barn and into the house. Manga was bent over his laptop but looked up as soon as HP came into the kitchen.
Hi, he said, slightly too loud.
HP merely nodded in response.
Look, I know youre pissed off with me, HP …
No shit …
… and youve got every right to be. I lied to you, more than once. And I really am sorry about that …
He smiled uncertainly.