The book and the photograph.
The fingerprints.
The telephone calls.
So incredibly careless.
She had the same feeling as before. There was something fundamentally wrong about the picture of Karim that had emerged during the course of the day. But what?
Fredrika could hear Eden Lundell’s voice a short distance away in the open-plan office. She had taken off her jacket and was standing in the middle of the floor in a sleeveless top that revealed the most toned upper arms Fredrika had ever seen on a woman. Eden spoke quietly, but she was clearly annoyed.
‘Mikael, I am not going to have this discussion right now. Yes, it’s very unfortunate that you had to abandon your little confirmation students to go and pick up your own children while your wife tries to save the lives of four hundred innocent people, but…’
She was interrupted by the person on the other end of the line. The next time she spoke, her tone was defensive.
‘I’m not being patronising, I’m just telling it like it is. I… What? And what’s wrong with describing your confirmation students as little? I mean, they’re not exactly big, are they?’
Eden suddenly realised that Fredrika was looking at her.
‘I haven’t got time to talk about this now. I’m sorry you’re angry, but there’s nothing I can do about it.’
She flipped her phone shut and put it in her pocket. Fredrika turned her attention back to her report. Eden came straight over to her desk.
‘How’s it going?’
Her voice was like the crack of a whip, and Fredrika felt her cheeks redden. As if it were her fault that Eden had been standing in the middle of the office conducting a private conversation.
‘Fine,’ she said.
‘We’re having a meeting in a while – it would be good if you came along.’
‘I’ll be there.’
Another burst of rain spattered the window next to Fredrika. The October weather was dreadful. Soon the streets would be aflame with fallen leaves in shades of red and yellow.
Eden lingered by Fredrika’s desk.
‘How do you feel your liaison role is working?’
‘It’s good. I’m just summarising how far we’ve got; the Justice Department has requested a report.’
‘Do you have any thoughts you’d like to share at this stage?’
Fredrika hesitated, and Eden read her like an open book.
‘Go on,’ she said encouragingly.
‘Karim Sassi,’ Fredrika said. ‘I don’t think he’s the brains behind all this.’
Eden frowned.
‘But surely you must believe he’s involved?’
‘Yes. But I don’t buy the idea that he’s alone.’
‘Me neither. Nobody could carry out something like this on their own.’
‘So why aren’t we finding anyone else close to him?’
‘I would say that’s one of the major questions facing us, and I find it frustrating to say the least. There’s no way he can be alone.’
Fredrika had more to get off her chest: ‘I’ve been thinking about all the coincidences when it comes to Karim Sassi.’
‘Such as?’ It was obvious that Eden was trying not to sound irritated.
‘Such as the book by Tennyson, for example. And the photograph of Karim and Zakaria Khelifi. Even Zakaria himself doesn’t seem to be aware that there’s supposed to be a connection between him and Karim that is so strong it would motivate Karim to hijack an entire plane for his sake.’
Eden pushed her hands into her trouser pockets. She wasn’t wearing a watch, but she did have heavy silver bracelets on both wrists. The bracelets were covered in symbols that Fredrika thought could be Hebrew letters.
‘You mean someone got into Karim’s house and planted the book there?’
Her expression suggested that she thought Fredrika was crazy.
‘Well, no, that doesn’t seem very likely,’ Fredrika replied. ‘However, I can’t help feeling it’s a bit careless to leave something like that lying around. Did he want us to find it?’
‘Yes, or his wife. Perhaps it was a final message to her if everything went wrong.’
‘So why not come out and say he’s responsible for the hijacking? Why not make the demands himself instead of writing them on a piece of paper and leaving it in the toilet?’
‘Because he thought, or thinks, there was a chance he might get away with it without being exposed.’
‘And he left the book out in case he was killed or exposed?’
Eden didn’t reply. Fredrika could see that she was thinking things over.
‘What if we flip it around?’ Eden said eventually. ‘What if we assume that someone other than Karim planted the book in his house? Why did that person do it?’
‘To give more weight to our suspicions against Karim,’ Fredrika said.
‘Planting a book in a living room isn’t particularly subtle,’ Eden said. ‘I mean, it would be very easy for the homeowner to say they’ve never seen it before, that it doesn’t belong to them. And even more importantly, how would the person who put the book there know that we would suspect Karim?’
Fredrika suddenly felt immensely weary.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
Eden took her hands out of her pockets and started fingering one of her bracelets.
‘I agree with you, the business of the book seems too obvious. Almost like a kind of theatrical symbol, a specific message for the right eyes. Our eyes, for example. If it weren’t for the bomb threats, I’d be on your side. In that case, the book and the photograph would be the perfect trap. But as it is…’
She rolled her neck, the blonde hair flicking across her shoulders.
‘Besides, there’s intelligence that strengthens the theory that the pilot is involved. There’s too much evidence to ignore.’
Eden was right, and Fredrika was wrong, although Fredrika had never suggested that Karim was innocent. However, she still believed it was beyond all reasonable doubt that he could have carried out his plan alone.
How could his helpers be completely invisible?
Eden turned on her heel and went back to her office.
Fredrika stayed at her desk and tried to bring some clarity to her thoughts. What had been the point of the previous day’s bomb threats? Four separate threats spread across the inner city, with no explanation, no demand for anything in return. Why? If the threats were linked to the hijacking, what role had they played?
Fredrika gazed out of the window, wishing she could reach Karim Sassi up there among the clouds.
Talk to us, she thought. Tell us what we’re not seeing.
Because otherwise there’s nothing we can do to help you.
GD had come looking for Eden while she was in the meeting with the Americans. He wanted an update, so she called him.
The meeting with the CIA agents had left her feeling frustrated. She couldn’t cope with a pissing contest and battling against a headwind in a situation like this. And then they had had the nerve to hint at that damned business in London! Eden had never imagined that her history would remain within the borders of the UK. She had actually been surprised when she was offered the positions with both the National Bureau of Investigation and Säpo, but had then decided to take this as a sign that she could put the past behind her. Which she was very happy to do. Nothing was more painful than remembering, and nothing else in her life had cost her more.
Suddenly, Mikael came into her mind. Mikael, who had had to dump his confirmation class to go and pick up the children. Mikael, whom she had snapped at and provoked, and who was beginning to get sick and tired of the hours she worked.
Eden remembered how surprised her mother had been when she told her they were expecting a child.
‘You?’ her mother had said. ‘You’re having a baby?’
There was no joy in her voice, simply blank bewilderment. As if the thought of Eden having a child was utterly ridiculous. Admittedly, Eden’s view of parenthood wasn’t quite the same as that of many other women. They had been living in London when the baby was born, and according to the rules and regulations that applied to working women in the UK at the time, she had had only sixteen weeks’ maternity leave, which was regarded as a long time. Mikael had refused to employ a nanny when the children were so small, and had stayed at home with them for a whole year. In Eden’s opinion, this meant he had lost the first and most important round of negotiations over who should take the lion’s share of responsibility for their daughters.