Except in the case of Zakaria Khelifi, and now Eden was starting to wonder what exactly was going on there. Just before she went to meet the Americans, Sebastian had spoken to her. They had gone through the lists of calls once again, and it looked as if Zakaria could well be telling the truth when he said that the phone had belonged to someone else. The contacts were largely different during the period when Zakaria insisted the phone had not been his; Sebastian had even found a date which constituted a kind of dividing line.
‘If the phone did belong to someone else, then we can at least assume that they knew one another. They have several mutual acquaintances,’ he said.
This business of the phone had been difficult right from the start. Zakaria used several mobiles: one for work, one personal, one that belonged to his girlfriend.
Eden wanted to re-examine all their previous assumptions about Zakaria, simply to reassure herself that the case against him was solid. The evidence against him had been rather more sparse, and of course this became all too clear when the verdicts were delivered. If they had got it wrong, then Eden wanted to know before the day was over. By which she meant before midnight.
But right now she was sitting in a meeting with the CIA. She had intended to ask them some questions about Tennyson Cottage, but that could wait. First of all, she wanted to hear more about the German connection, then she would bring up Zakaria Khelifi once more.
‘You said that a German identified Karim.’
‘No, we said that an email had been sent to the German intelligence service.’
Same difference. There was a connection with Germany, and that country had cropped up several times on Zakaria’s phone during the period when it might not have been his.
‘Do you think that the group behind this, or elements of that group, could be in Germany?’
‘We don’t know. But obviously, Germany is of interest under the circumstances, even if we can’t see a direct link to the rest of the case at this stage.’
Eden told them about Zakaria’s German contacts; the CIA agents listened and made notes.
‘I’ll get in touch with the Germans straight after this meeting,’ Eden said.
‘Of course. Unless they get hold of you first. Now that the hijacking is public knowledge, they will probably want to talk to you about the email.’
Eden thought so too. One of the Americans summarised:
‘So an unknown person has stated that Karim is involved in the hijacking. Karim has met Zakaria Khelifi in the past. Zakaria Khelifi has been in contact with individuals in Germany.’
Eden moved on:
‘And Tennyson Cottage? How does that fit into all this?’
It happened so fast that she almost missed it, but she just noticed the men on the other side of the table exchange glances before replying.
‘We don’t know.’
‘No? No one with a link to Sweden – or Germany – has been held there?’
‘No.’
Closed faces told Eden that she wasn’t going to get any further with Tennyson Cottage.
‘Tell us more about Zakaria Khelifi,’ one of the Americans said.
But Eden had reached her limit when it came to things she was prepared to discuss with the CIA. Karim Sassi was obviously of interest to both sides, but if they weren’t going to talk about Tennyson Cottage, then Eden wasn’t going to talk about Zakaria. Then she remembered that she had one more card to play.
‘I mentioned that we found a photograph of Zakaria Khelifi and Karim Sassi at Karim’s house.’
The men opposite straightened up, eager to listen carefully to what she had to say.
‘Did I tell you that we found it inside a book by Alfred Lord Tennyson?’
That hit the mark. The Americans were lost for words, and that was all Eden needed to know. She definitely had something they wanted.
‘But I’m sure that’s just a bizarre coincidence, isn’t it?’
The fish was hooked; all she had to do was reel it in.
‘I doubt it,’ one of the Americans said.
‘Really?’
She played it cool, leaning back on her chair with her legs crossed. She might have been imagining things, but she thought her questions about Tennyson were making them nervous.
What is it you’re not telling me?
‘I swear we have nothing that explains why Tennyson Cottage has cropped up in the middle of this mess.’
She didn’t believe him. Once, and only once, Eden had failed to expose a liar when she was standing face to face with him. It had been an expensive mistake, and one she would not be making again. Ever.
‘You don’t have anything on Karim Sassi that you’re keeping quiet about? Something that explains his interest in Tennyson?’
‘No, no and no again. What about you? Did you find anything related to Tennyson Cottage?’
‘No.’
She would have lied if necessary. She was a better player than them. One of the best in her field, in fact. Her boss back in the UK had told her that this particular quality would take her further than any other.
He had been right. It had saved her marriage, among other things.
Have you met someone else, Eden? Have you?
You’re the only one for me, Mikael. I swear.
They had reached an impasse. If the CIA wanted to know more, Eden would be happy to meet them at any time of the day or night, as long as they promised to share information of their own. She thought she had made her point, loud and clear.
She brought the meeting to an end and took out her phone to call someone to escort her guests out of the building. But first she turned to her American colleagues.
‘I need lists of personal details,’ she said.
‘What lists?’
‘Lists of those who have been held in Tennyson Cottage. I want to run them against our Swedish records to see if I can find a link to Khelifi.’
She knew they would refuse, but wanted to ask the question anyway.
‘You must realise that’s an unreasonable request.’
‘Then at least I want the names of those who’ve been released – surely there must be a few?’
‘Once again, you have to trust us. There is no link between Khelifi and Tennyson Cottage.’
Eden didn’t reply. It was obvious that there had to be some common denominator between Khelifi and Tennyson. The only question was whether they would find it in time to avert a catastrophe. Someone was sitting on the truth, and that person had to start talking. Time was running out fast.
33 16:18
The media coverage was fragmented. It was as if the journalists didn’t know what to focus on. The previous day’s bomb threats. The hijacking. Or the parliamentary debate on immigration and integration. Buster Hansson, General Director of Säpo, couldn’t help thinking that if it hadn’t been for the guilty verdicts in the terrorist cases, along with everything else that had happened in the last two days, the debate wouldn’t have attracted half as much attention. He had avoided watching the live broadcast from the chamber. The far right had a following wind. They were becoming increasingly daring in the way they spoke and in the position they adopted, and were making increasingly bold demands when it came to the reduction, if not the complete cessation, of immigration. And then of course they referred to the acts of terrorism that had shaken Scandinavia, and asked: ‘Is this the way we want things to be?’
Buster Hansson has always been surprised that people couldn’t count. He had made this discovery at an early stage in his career. Immigrants were indisputably over-represented in the crime statistics. There was in fact a clear correlation between being part of a less privileged stratum of society, and being over-represented in the crime statistics. Immigrants who lived in the Östermalm district of Stockholm featured no more heavily than people who had not been born overseas, or whose parents fell into that category. Therefore, the problem was not that immigrants were immigrants, but that regardless of an immigrant’s background, as soon as they arrived in Sweden, they were banished to the periphery of society. And once they ended up there, it was easier to go astray in life.