‘How’s it going with the report on the neo-
Nazis?’ he asked as soon as he saw Harry in the
doorway.
‘Badly,’ Harry said, sinking into the chair. In the
picture above Meirik’s head the Norwegian King
and Queen peered down at him. ‘The E on my
keyboard has got stuck,’ Harry added.
Meirik forced a smile, much like the man in the
picture, and asked Harry to forget the report for the
time being.
‘I need you to do something else. The Chief
Information Officer from the trade union s has just
called. Half the trade union leaders have been
faxed death threats today. Signed 88, a short form
for Heil Hitler. It’s not the first time, but this time it’s been leaked to the press. They’ve already
started ringing us. We’ve managed to trace the
death threats to a public fax machine in Klippan.
That’s why we have to take the threat seriously.’
‘Klippan?’
‘A little place three miles east of Helsingborg.
Sixteen thousand inhabitants and the worst Nazi
nest in Sweden. You’ll find families there who
have been Nazis in unbroken lineage since the
thirties. Some Norwegian neo-Nazis go on
pilgrimages there to see and learn. I want you to
pack a big bag, Harry.’
Harry had an unpleasant premonition.
‘We’re sending you there to do some undercover
work, Harry. You have to infiltrate the local
network. Job, identity and other details we’ll sort
out for you bit by bit. Be prepared to stay there for
quite some time. Our Swedish colleagues have
already sorted out somewhere for you to live.’
‘Undercover work,’ Harry repeated. He could
hardly believe his ears. ‘I know diddle about
spying, Meirik. I’m a detective. Or had you
forgotten?’
Meirik’s smile had become dangerously thin.
‘You’ll learn fast, Harry. That’s not a problem.
Look upon it as an interesting, useful experience.’
‘Hm. For how long?’
‘A few months. Maximum six.’
‘Six?’ Harry yelled.
‘Be positive, Harry. You’ve got no family ties, no
—’
‘Who else is in the team?’
Meirik shook his head.
‘No team. You’re on your own. It seems more
plausible that way. And you report directly to me.’
Harry rubbed his chin.
‘Why me, Meirik? You have a whole department
of experts here on infiltration and the extreme
right.’
‘There’s always a first time.’
‘And what about the Märklin rifle? We’ve traced
it to an old Nazi and now there are these threats
signed Heil Hitler. Isn’t it better that I continue my work here . . . ?’
‘I have made up my mind, Harry.’ Meirik didn’t
bother to smile any more.
Something stank. Harry could smell it a long way
off, but he didn’t know what it was or where it was
coming from. He stood up and Meirik followed
suit.
‘You leave after the weekend,’ Meirik said. He
put out his hand.
It struck Harry that was an odd thing to do and the
same thought seemed to have crossed Meirik’s
mind at that moment too – there was self-
consciousness in his expression. But now it was
too late. The hand hung in the air, helpless, with
splayed fingers, and Harry quickly pressed flesh to
get the embarrassing situation over with.
As Harry passed Linda in reception, she shouted
that there was a fax for him in his pigeon-hole and
Harry nabbed it on his way past. It was
Halvorsen’s list. He ran his eye down the list of
names while trudging up the corridor trying to
work out which part of him would benefit from six
months’ socialising with neo-Nazis in some hole in
southern Sweden. Not the part of him that was
trying to stay sober. Not the part of him that was
waiting for Rakel’s response to his dinner
invitation. And definitely not the part trying to find
Ellen’s murderer. He stopped in his tracks.
The last name . . .
There was no reason for him to be surprised that
old acquaintances popped up on the list, but this
was quite different. This was the sound he heard
when he had cleaned his Smith & Wesson and then
put it together again. The smooth click that told him
everything fitted.
He was in his office and on the phone to
Halvorsen in seconds. Halvorsen noted down his
questions and promised to ring back as soon as he
had something.
Harry leaned back. He could hear his heart
beating. As a rule, this was not his forte, putting
together small pieces of information which didn’t
seem to have anything in common. Must have been
a moment of inspiration. When Halvorsen rang a