“I can imagine what your psychiatrist said about that.”
“Yes,” said Lewin. “She was very clear on that point. It wasn’t even about him. It was about me.”
“I agree with her,” said Holt.
“I don’t know,” said Lewin. “But it helped to talk about it.”
“It helped?”
“Yes,” said Lewin. “Now it’s been awhile since he visited me last. What do you think about a quick stroll, by the way? These therapy sessions can be a strain. My legs fall asleep.”
“Sure,” said Holt. “We can finish that when we come back,” she said, nodding at the wine bottle on the table. Now he’s smiling again. Maybe you should switch jobs, Anna, she thought.
Wednesday, October 10. The bay outside Puerto Pollensa on north Mallorca
Just under an hour’s run and the Volvo Penta marine diesel engine that is Esperanza’s heart has taken her twelve nautical miles out into the bay. Past Platja de Formentor, Cala Murta, and the excellent fishing spots outside El Bancal where you can catch sea perch, octopus, and skate almost year-round. Less than a nautical mile remaining to the tip of the peninsula at Cap de Formentor and then straight out in the deep channel toward Canal de Menorca. Heaving swell with foam on top, a good deal deeper under her keel, parry with the rudder, soon time to make the final decision and shift course. The sun like a flaming ball halfway toward the zenith. High enough to burn off the haze and keep it 90 degrees in the shade. A hot day even here where it is normally almost 70 degrees during the day long into the fall. Other boats in sight and Esperanza is no longer alone on the sea.
21
Six weeks earlier, Wednesday, August 29.
The headquarters of the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation on Kungsholmen in Stockholm
“Flykt is no longer among us,” said Johansson. “Tips are pouring in, so the Palme group has its hands full. We’ll have to get by without him, and I thought that you, Lisa, could start,” said Johansson, nodding at Mattei.
“Okay,” said Lisa Mattei. “As I already told the boss, I saw Söderström last week. As I’m sure you know, he was the head of the bodyguards when Palme was assassinated.”
“I’m listening,” said Johansson solemnly, clasping his hands over his belly and sinking down in his own chair. The one that was twice as big as all the others around the table in his own conference room. The one that had neck support, arms, a foldable footrest, and built-in massage function.
Mattei reported what Söderström had said. That the prime minister, the day he was murdered, mentioned that he had tentative plans to go to the movies, or perhaps meet the family outside his own residence. Plans, Mattei underscored. The actual decision to go to the movies, and then kill two birds with one stone by also seeing their son Mårten and his fiancée, had been made only half an hour before Olof Palme and his wife left their apartment.
“I see then,” said Johansson. “How many of the officers up at SePo were aware of his plans before he decided?”
“If I may add something before I touch on that,” said Lisa Mattei, with a careful glance at her boss.
“Of course,” said Johansson with a generous hand gesture.
“I’ve read the interviews with both his wife and his son. The decision to go to the movies was made that evening. What decided the issue was probably his conversation with his son about eight o’clock. He had, however, talked about plans to do that earlier the same day.”
“Which of the colleagues at SePo knew about it, his plans, that is?” asked Holt.
“First the two officers who were assigned to him that day,” said Mattei. “They were his usual bodyguards. The two colleagues the newspapers at that time always called Bill and Bull,” said Mattei. “Criminal Inspector Kjell Larsson and Detective Sergeant Orvar Fasth. When at noon the prime minister told them he didn’t need them anymore, Larsson called Söderström and reported how things were. Söderström went directly to his superior, bureau head Berg, and informed him; thus so far there are four people at SePo who were already aware of the whole thing at twelve noon.”
“After that,” said Lewin.
“Then it gets trickier,” said Mattei. “Because Söderström might need to reorganize and send in two replacements for Larsson and Fasth, he informed the officer on duty during the evening. He in turn, at least this is what Söderström thinks, talked with the six guards on the on-duty list for the weekend. Another seven colleagues and now we’re up to eleven,” Mattei summarized.
“Which probably means the whole squad must have known about it by that time,” Lewin observed.
“Not everyone,” Mattei objected. “That’s not what I think at least.”
“Why not?” asked Holt. “Even at the time I was working there they had a break room.”
“Certainly more than eleven.” Mattei nodded. “Some of them must have said something to someone. But at the same time we have to be clear that this was not exactly a big sensation. The victim already had a history of similar behavior, if I may say so. Sometimes he simply wanted to be left alone.” Who doesn’t, she thought.
“Twenty,” Johansson suggested with a slight wave of his right hand. “About twenty of our colleagues in the bodyguards knew that the prime minister had vague plans to go out and do something.”
“Sounds about right,” said Mattei. “In total there were thirty-eight officers working there at that time.”
“Okay,” said Johansson. “How many at the victim’s office knew about it?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Mattei, shaking her head. “My contacts in the government offices are still small, or more precisely, nonexistent. I’ve read the interviews with the people who worked there.”
“So what do they say?” said Johansson.
“The question about possibly going to the movies was not asked at all.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?” said Johansson. “It’s clear they must have asked about that.”
“No,” Mattei persisted. “The closest you get is that a few were asked whether the prime minister said anything about leaving his residence that evening. That’s not really the same thing,” she observed.
Certainly not, thought Johansson.
“All three who were asked replied that he did not,” said Mattei. “On the other hand, no one was asked about any plans.”
“I do have a contact in the government offices,” said Johansson. “He was around back then. I think I’ll talk to him and then get back to you.”
“The special adviser, later undersecretary, the government’s éminence grise, the man without a name, Sweden’s own Cardinal Richelieu,” said Mattei.
“Oh well,” said Johansson. “It’s probably not all that remarkable. His name is actually Nilsson.” So you’re aware of him in any event, he thought.
“He was interviewed too,” said Mattei.
“So what does he say?” asked Johansson.
“Nothing, basically absolutely nothing,” said Mattei. “He simply has nothing to say. He actually says that. That’s almost the only thing he says. Out of consideration for the security of the realm, he can’t say anything. Out of consideration for the security of the realm he also can’t explain why he can’t say anything. It’s completely meaningless. When he gets that routine question in the beginning about confirming that he is who he is, name and address and social security number and all that, he tells the interviewer to stop fooling around. Stop fooling around, next question, constable. Word for word, that’s what he says.”