Then she sat for a long time with the receiver pressed to her ear, saying nothing.
‘It’s unfortunate that we didn’t discuss this in advance,’ she eventually said in English. ‘We’ve asked Erik Recht to do something similar.’ She fell silent once more.
Something similar?
Fredrika glanced at Alex, and saw that he was leaning forward in his chair, as if he was trying to hear more clearly.
‘Okay, so when was this?’ Eden said. ‘And you haven’t heard from him since then?’
She shook her head, her lips compressed into a straight line.
‘We haven’t heard from Erik either, and that worries me, to be honest.’
She listened again, then ended the call.
‘Bad news,’ she said in a tone of voice so sharp that Fredrika was grateful Eden had chosen a career within the police service rather than the medical profession.
‘What’s happened? Was that about Erik?’ Alex asked.
‘The Americans appear to have a whole truckload of surprises,’ Eden said. ‘Apparently, they have an operative from the Department of Defense on board, and he’s been in touch with them. They’ve told him to get into the cockpit with the help of a stewardess, then to put Karim Sassi out of action and take over the plane.’
‘So he’s a pilot?’ Sebastian said.
‘Yes, although he usually flies a different kind of aircraft. The only problem is that they haven’t heard from him and were wondering if we’d heard anything. Which we haven’t, of course.’
Alex sighed heavily. Fredrika could see that he was clutching his mobile, and wished with all her heart that Erik would call.
Ring, for God’s sake, ring.
‘They also wanted us to know that they’re sticking by their decision,’ Eden went on. ‘If we can’t get someone into the cockpit, they won’t let the plane enter their airspace.’
An endless nightmare.
Fredrika went over the loose ends. There were a lot of them, and it was difficult to get an overview, but she had a feeling it was important not to forget about Zakaria’s sister.
‘Have you passed on what we know about Sofi to the Germans?’ she asked.
‘Yes. They didn’t seem to recognise her name, or the picture we got from her uncle. Although that doesn’t necessarily mean a great deal; she might use a different name in Germany.
Germany and Sweden, the USA and Afghanistan.
The world had turned into a gigantic playing field where different teams met in order to challenge each other in a competition with rules that were rewritten as they went along, rules that could usually be broken.
‘What is it we’re actually looking for?’ Fredrika said.
‘We’re looking for someone who knows both Zakaria and Tennyson Cottage, and who is sufficiently wound up to hijack an entire plane,’ Eden said.
She was right, Fredrika thought. Whoever had written the note that had been found in the toilet on the plane hadn’t mentioned Tennyson Cottage by chance. On the contrary – the person in question thought it was important for Tennyson Cottage specifically to be shut down. Otherwise he or she could have written about the USA’s secret detention facilities in Afghanistan in far more general terms.
Fredrika added another factor to her analysis.
Whoever had set all this in motion was not only personally concerned with Zakaria’s fate and the closure of Tennyson Cottage. He or she also knew Karim Sassi, a man who on paper didn’t appear to have a single reason to do what he was doing right now. It was equally important to find that link in order to solve the case.
And then there were yesterday’s damned bomb threats. What was their significance, and who had made the calls? Fredrika sensed that it was important to find the answers to these questions. She just didn’t understand why.
59 22:15
‘When will you be home?’
Diana’s voice was far away; Alex had to make a real effort to hear what she was saying.
‘I don’t know. I’m staying here until I know how things pan out.’
Until I know whether Erik has died or not. Whether I’m the father of just one child from now on.
‘Would you like me to come over for a while?’
Alex pressed the receiver to his ear, remembering how they had started to see one another while Alex was investigating the death of Diana’s daughter. How sensitive and clandestine it had all been. And how wonderful. So incredibly liberating.
It was still wonderful; he loved to hear her voice.
‘What, to the station?’
‘Yes.’
How many times had he been close to tears today? He blinked them away.
‘No, best not.’
‘Call me if you change your mind.’
Alex dropped the phone when they had finished talking, as if it were red hot. He definitely wouldn’t call her. There was absolutely no way that he could cope with seeing Diana until he knew for certain whether things had gone well or extremely badly.
What wouldn’t he give to feel her arms around him right now?
He shook off the sense of yearning and went over to the analyst who was checking the lists of cars that had driven out of the city in the direction of Arlanda. He recognised Alex right away.
‘Something I can help you with?’
Alex explained what he wanted, trying not to sound impatient. He had no right to flare up. Not here, not now. Not as long as he was on Säpo’s territory. Eden had gone to her meeting with the CIA, and Fredrika had returned to her desk. She liked sitting there, on a chair behind a desk with four sturdy legs. She had worked miracles from there on more than one occasion; please God let her do the same again this time.
‘Hang on, I’ll check,’ the analyst said, leaving Alex alone at his desk.
Alex gazed out over the open-plan office. He didn’t really know what he’d expected, but not this. Bizarrely, he hadn’t even expected his colleagues from Säpo to be so pleasant. So ordinary. He had thought they would somehow seem aware of how exciting everyone else imagined their everyday lives must be, but after spending a day in their company, Alex was convinced. Working for Säpo wasn’t exciting, it was frustrating.
The analyst came back. Alex couldn’t work out whether or not he was a police officer, and he didn’t bother to ask. The experience of working with Fredrika had taught him that it didn’t make any difference whether someone was a civilian or a police officer, as long as he or she had an aptitude for the profession. And that had nothing to do with background.
The other man’s eyes were shining.
‘Look at this, Alex.’
He passed over a sheet of paper.
‘These are the cars we’ve highlighted as possibly of interest. Do you recognise any of the names?’
He did. According to the records, one of the cars that had driven out of the city just hours before yesterday’s bomb threats belonged to Zakaria Khelifi.
This time, Eden had no intention of letting them leave the meeting room until they had given her what she wanted. She would keep her eyes fixed on them until she had all the data she needed.
It had been an incredibly long day.
She had to maintain her sharpness, her focus. If she relaxed now, everything would be lost. Everything.
The CIA agents were the same as last time. Eden chose to take only Sebastian in with her. They sat down opposite the Americans.
‘Thank you for coming in again at such short notice,’ Eden began.
No reaction.
‘Have you heard anything from your man on board?’ she asked.
‘No. What about you? Have you heard from Erik Recht?’
‘Unfortunately not.’
Silence.
‘As you will understand, we have a number of questions with which we need your help,’ one of the agents said.
Engaging in a trial of strength with an American was pointless. They almost always won. In general terms, Eden liked Americans. They were fun to hang out with, easy to get on with in a social situation. And she sometimes envied that American drive, the constant determination to reach a little higher, get a little further. Or – preferably – higher and further than everyone else. It touched a competitive nerve within Eden that was all too seldom exploited to its full capacity.