‘Have you heard any more about Erik?’
Her voice was thick with worry. She had lost a child herself, a daughter. If anyone knew what torment it was to lose a person you had created, it was Diana.
But we’re not there yet.
‘No,’ Alex replied. ‘But we’re working on it.’
They were ‘working on it’. The time was almost five thirty, the plane was seventy-five minutes away from its destination, and the police were still saying they were trying to find a way to avert a disaster. But how? How were they going to do that?
He could hear her breathing at the other end of the line, and wondered what would have become of him if he hadn’t met her. He had thought it would be impossible for him to love again, and had been surprised by how easy it actually was. When Diana opened her arms to him, it was as if his frozen heart thawed, and gave him back the will to live.
The car stopped; they had arrived.
‘I’ll call you later,’ Alex said. He slipped the phone into his pocket and followed Veronika up the stairs to the apartment in which Zakaria Khelifi’s uncle lived.
The uncle had been interviewed by the press, and had made no secret of the fact that he was appalled by the way his nephew’s case had been handled. Alex understood perfectly; he would have felt the same if he had been a relative. But he certainly didn’t feel that way as a law enforcement officer.
They hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but nor had they expected Zakaria Khelifi’s uncle to be so openly hostile. Moussa Khelifi had lived in Sweden for over thirty years, and spoke Swedish with an almost imperceptible accent.
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded. ‘I don’t know how you’ve got the nerve to turn up on my doorstep!’
‘We think you might be able to help us,’ Veronika said. ‘And Zakaria.’
Moussa remained standing in the doorway; he didn’t look as if he had any intention of letting them in.
‘I came to you,’ he said to Veronika. ‘Do you remember? I came to Säpo during the trial and asked to speak to you.’
‘I remember. I also remember that two of our officers came down and listened to you. They gave you our phone number, and you called us later on.’
‘And what did I say?’
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t on duty that day.’
‘I said that Zakaria was innocent,’ Moussa said, his eyes suspiciously shiny. ‘I begged you to rethink, to let Zakaria go. But you refused to lift a finger to help him.’
Alex wasn’t familiar with Zakaria Khelifi’s case; he didn’t know why Säpo considered him to be so important. But he thought he knew something about the relatives of those who had fallen foul of the law.
‘Moussa,’ he said. ‘The situation has changed. You must have seen the news – someone has hijacked a plane and is demanding Zakaria’s release.’
‘Of course I’ve seen it, but it’s nothing to do with me. Nothing at all.’
Alex took a tentative step forward.
‘Could we possibly come inside for a little while? It seems a bit silly to be discussing this on the landing.’
A second passed, then another. Moussa Khelifi stepped back and let them in.
‘You can’t stay long,’ he said.
‘We won’t,’ Alex reassured him.
Moussa showed them into the living room. Alex swallowed hard when he saw the pictures on the walls, the ceramic bowls on display. Diana would have paid a fortune for them.
Veronika and Alex sat down on the sofa, while Moussa perched on a stool. It was too small, and made him look like a giant.
‘Where were you working in the summer of 2002?’ Veronika asked.
‘At an Ericsson factory in Kista. I worked there until they shut it down.’
‘Do you remember a Karim Sassi?’
Moussa frowned. At first, Alex thought he was going to say no, but eventually he said slowly:
‘Sassi… yes, I do remember him. He was the son of one of my colleagues – Marina.’
‘Did Zakaria ever meet him?’
Moussa thought back.
‘Zakaria spent a summer with me here in Sweden before he started university. I think it could well have been in 2002. I don’t have any children, and I was afraid he would feel lonely when he came over, so I asked Marina if they could hook up – Zakaria and her Karim.’
‘Did they spend much time together?’
‘No, as far as I know they only met up now and again. Zakaria didn’t speak Swedish, and although his English wasn’t bad, it was nowhere near as good as Karim’s. In Zakaria’s family, I think it’s only his sister who is really gifted when it comes to languages. She learned Swedish quicker than I did.’ He stopped abruptly. ‘Why are you asking questions about Zakaria and Karim?’
‘Unfortunately, we can’t tell you that at the moment, but…’
Moussa spread his arms in a gesture of resignation.
‘I could never do your job,’ he said, looking Veronika in the eye. ‘Aren’t you ashamed of what you do? Going to visit people you don’t even know and humiliating yourself by asking stupid questions?’
His words took Veronika’s breath away, and she didn’t know what to say.
‘We all have different jobs to do,’ Alex said quietly.
‘And mine is to take care of Zakaria’s interests,’ Moussa said. ‘I don’t care why you’re interested in him and Karim. If you don’t have any more questions, I’d like you to leave.’
‘Do you know if they met up after 2002?’ Veronika asked.
‘I don’t think so. I would probably have heard about it if they had.’
Moussa showed them out. Their meeting had lasted only a few minutes, but he was anxious to get rid of them.
‘I’m disappointed,’ he said when they were standing in the hallway. ‘In you and in Sweden. I didn’t think this could happen. Not in Sweden. What if something happens to Zakaria when he’s sent back to Algeria?’
There was nothing more to say. Neither Alex nor Veronika made any attempt to explain that Zakaria was judged to be a security risk, a threat to the country, and that was why he had to go home. Nor did they comment on the fact that the threat level to Zakaria had actually been assessed; the conclusion was that it was possible for him to return to Algeria. It was part of Moussa’s role as his uncle to believe that Zakaria was innocent. It couldn’t be helped that Alex and Veronika had a different agenda; that was just the way things were.
They thanked Moussa for sparing the time to talk to them, and went back to the car. Alex looked up at the dark, threatening sky. Something Moussa had said was niggling away at the back of his mind, but he didn’t remember what it was until they were back at Kungsholmen.
‘Did we know that Zakaria Khelifi has a sister who lives in Sweden?’ he said.
Veronika thought for a moment.
‘I didn’t take any notice when he mentioned her but, to be honest, I don’t know Zakaria’s case all that well.’
Alex grabbed his phone and called Eden.
‘Did you know that Zakaria has a sister?’
‘I think he has several sisters,’ Eden replied.
‘I mean a sister who lives in Sweden.’
Eden didn’t say anything for a moment.
‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘I didn’t know that.’
Alex put his phone away.
It seemed as if they were being fed fresh information all the time, but however hard they looked, they couldn’t find anything that would move the investigation forward.
36 FLIGHT 573
When Erik Recht’s mother died, Erik had found his father crying in his study. At first he hadn’t known what to do, whether he was expected to turn around and walk away, or whether his father wanted some company. He had hesitated for such a long time that he eventually decided he had to make his presence felt, which he achieved by clearing his throat.