Jacob's hands were trembling, his mouth completely dry. There they were.
After al the months spent searching, al the cities he'd been in.
He stood at the back of the room, worried that he might otherwise attack the television screens with his fists.
The fair-haired male, Malcolm Rudolph, was already sitting down, nervously rubbing his hands. He was stunningly handsome, no doubt about that.
Jacob couldn't take his eyes off this man.
It was him, Jacob was sure of it. There he was: the bastard who had kil ed Kimmy.
The door of the interrogation room opened and Mats Duval and Sara Hoglund entered and sat down opposite the man.
Mats Duval jabbered his way through the formalities about time and location. Then Sara Hoglund leaned across the table and began the first interview.
"Malcolm," she said calmly, "do you understand why you're here?"
The young man bit his lip.
"The police at the Central Station had our pictures," he said. "I guess you've been looking for us, that you think we've done something."
"Do you know what?"
He shook his head. "No, not at al."
"It's about Nienke van Mourik and Peter Visser," the head of the unit said. "They were found dead in their room in the Grand Hotel this morning."
Malcolm Rudolph's face registered shock and alarm.
"That can't be true," he protested. "Nienke and Peter? But we just saw them, what, yesterday afternoon! We're al going on a cruise to Finland together this weekend!"
Jacob let out a noise that sounded like a purr.
"So you maintain you don't know anything about their deaths?" Hoglund asked.
"Are they real y dead?"
Malcolm Rudolph began to cry.
Chapter 67
The young american was sobbing as if his heart were about to break, as if he had just lost his best friends in the world.
"And you think we had something to do with it? That we could have harmed Peter and Nienke? How could you even think that?"
Sara Hoglund and Mats Duval let him cry for a few minutes.
Then they asked if he wanted a lawyer present. They had to do this. He had the right to one under Swedish law, the same as in America.
The murder suspect merely shook his head. He didn't need legal representation. He hadn't done anything wrong. He couldn't understand how anyone could suspect him of anything so terrible. The Dutch couple had been happy and ful of life when he and Sylvia had left them in their hotel room the previous day.
What were they doing in the hotel room? Did they eat or drink anything?
"No," Malcolm Rudolph said with a sniff. "Wel, actual y we did. Peter had a Coke that I drank a bit of."
"No champagne?"
"Champagne? In the middle of the afternoon?" The question seemed to strike him as absurd.
"Did you smoke anything in their room? Marijuana, for instance?"
"Marijuana is il egal here, isn't it? And Sylvia and I don't smoke, anyway."
He slumped down on the table and started crying again. The questions 91 kept coming.
When did you arrive in Sweden?
How long have you been traveling in Europe?
Can you tel us about Peter and Nienke?
"They were so much fun, so nice. We were real y looking forward to the trip to Finland with them. We had a great lunch at that place in the Old Town…"
The detectives' questions bounced off him, many unanswered, then into the control room.
Where were you on November twenty-seventh last year?
December thirtieth?
January twenty-sixth this year? February ninth? March fourth?
The interrogation was stopped after just forty-three minutes. To be humane, and to be lawful.
Malcolm Rudolph was led away to a cel in Kronoberg Prison.
Chapter 68
Jacob had to stop himself from smashing his fist through the cement wall. He was forced to take a quick walk out in the corridor to calm himself down, if that was even possible.
He came back into the control room just as the young woman was taking her place in the interrogation room.
Sylvia.
She seemed more col ected than her husband and answered the questions calmly and clearly.
When she heard that the Dutch couple had been murdered, she put her hands to her face and wept quietly for a moment.
Then she confirmed Malcolm's story: they'd eaten lunch with Nienke and Peter and were planning a joint trip to Helsinki next weekend.
"How did you arrange it?"
"We booked the tickets on the Internet – from a Seven-Eleven shop," she said.
"Which company?"
"Silja."
She smiled.
"I remember that because it sounds a bit like my name, Sylvia."
"Where was the shop?"
"On the long pedestrian street that runs right through the Old Town, Vasterlang-?"
"Vasterlanggatan?"
"Yes, that's it."
One of the detectives got up at once and left the room to check out her story.
"Who actual y purchased the tickets?" Sara Hoglund asked. "Do you remember?"
Jacob slapped his forehead.
"Good God!" he said. "What sort of performance is this? Question time in Sunday school? Jesus, ask her some tough questions, for fuck's sake!"
Gabriel a came over and stood right next to Jacob. Her eyes were red and her breath smel ed of coffee.
"Pul yourself together," she said. "You're behaving like a kid. Let Sara and Mats do their jobs."
"That's precisely what I mean!" Jacob yel ed. "They're not doing their jobs! They're sitting there making nice with her! She's a cold-blooded murderer. Look at her. She's so calm."
Take it easy, Jacob," Dessie said, putting her hand on his arm.
He ran his hands through his hair and swal owed audibly.
On the television screen the interrogation slowly continued. No big ups or downs.
"Where were you on November twenty-seventh last year?"
Sylvia Rudolph played thoughtful y with a curl of hair. She was very pretty, though not as striking as her husband.
"I can't remember offhand. Can I check in my diary? I might have something there."
Mats Duval switched on his electronic notepad.
"Let's take something more recent," he said. "Where were you on February ninth this year?"
Jacob leaned forward to hear better. That was the date of the kil ings in Athens. He knew every murder date by heart.
"February?" the woman said with a frown. "In Spain, I think. Yes, that's right. We were in Madrid in early February, because Mac had a stomach bug and we had to go to a doctor."
"Can you remember the name of the doctor?"
She pul ed a face.
"No," she said, "but I've stil got the receipt. It was real y expensive, and the doctor was useless."
Jacob gave a groan.
The questions meandered on, and Sylvia answered them al in the same 93 calm, matter-of-fact manner.
"What's the reason for the trip to Europe? Why did you come here?"
"We're art students," Sylvia said.
Dessie and Jacob exchanged a quick glance. Final y there was something.
"We're at UCLA and have taken a year off. It's been real y educational.
Super. Until today, anyway."
"How long have you been married?"
The young woman opened her eyes wide, then burst out laughing. Dessie and Jacob looked at each other again.
"Married! We're not married. Mac's my twin brother."
Part Two
Chapter 69
Dessie phoned Forsberg at the paper once Sylvia Rudolph had been taken back to her cel.
"How's it going?" the news editor asked. "Have they confessed yet?"
"You know I can't answer that. I'm not here as a reporter," Dessie said.
"What's the reaction at the paper?"
"We've got extra pages in al of tomorrow's editions. This is huge.
Everyone's total y focused. We've got newspapers around the world contacting us. There's even a guy from the New York Times sitting at your desk. I hope you don't mind him borrowing it…"