Marked for Life (32 page)

Danilo tripped over Gavril's dead body and lost his gun. He withdrew himself quickly out through the door. She was still on her back, breathing heavily with her gaze and gun aimed at the door. Then she got up and looked around for Phobos. To her horror she realized he was gone.

She went out to the hall, her eyes peeled all the time. She listened for sounds. In the hall she pressed her body against the wall, pointing her gun up the stairs, then to the side, then up the stairs again. When she reached the first step she heard a sound. It came from a door behind her. She crept up, waited a moment before opening the door. It led down into a cellar. A lamp hung over the stairs. She hesitated a moment. If she went down those steps she would be a perfect target in the light. Then she heard a click by her side, and twisted round. Behind a door she caught sight of a fuse box.

She smiled to herself.

Now we'll play a game
, she thought.

An amusing game.

* * *

Jana Berzelius turned off the main switch and took a deep breath. Then she took one step forward and found herself stepping straight into another world. Straight into a memory. She was immediately transformed into the little girl in the cellar. The girl who wanted to survive. It was all happening again. But this time she didn't struggle against the dark. She embraced it. Now she was in control.

She stretched up her head and listened for sounds. It was still silent.

Numbingly silent.

She took a step forward, stopped and listened again. Yet another step, and still one more. After three steps she ought to be by the stairs.

Jana stretched out her hand to feel the banisters. She counted her steps in her head. One, two, three. Now she felt the banister in her hand. In her memory the handrail was rough and cracked. Now it was polished and smooth. Her feet worked their way slowly down the steps. On the last step she let go of the banister and felt with her hand in front of her. Then she heard a sound. Somebody was moving. Somebody was by her side.

Who? Danilo or Phobos?

She slowly turned her head to be able to register new sounds. But there was only silence. It was far too quiet. Perhaps Danilo stood and waited behind her back? A thought made her want to get out. To just get out of there.

Then she heard it.

The breath.

The signal.

She reacted instinctively and pointed the gun at the sound. Then she felt a powerful blow to her arm, lost her balance and fell backward. She ended up lying on the floor, perfectly still. Danilo was close now.

She made an attempt to lift her arm and point the gun up the stairs but the pain stopped her.

He suddenly kicked the gun out of her hand and she heard how it slid across the floor, behind her.

“You're not the only one who likes playing games in the dark,” he said and kicked her hard in the side.

She groaned.

“It's fun, isn't it? Well? It's good fun, right?”

He kicked her again, so hard that something broke in her forearm and she shrieked in pain.

“It's time to finish this,” he said and immediately sat astride her with his hands joined in a stranglehold.

She just managed to raise one hand and with her nails she clawed at his hands to make him let go. But he didn't. He pressed harder. She gasped for air. In the compact darkness it was hard to tell if everything was going black, but a nasty and familiar sensation came creeping up on her. She knew that she was close to losing consciousness.

Her other hand was firmly wedged under Danilo' legs, and her fingers worked desperately to get a grip on the knife that was on her hip. With a final effort she got a grip on the knife handle with the top of her index and middle fingers, and quickly coaxed the knife out and stabbed it straight into the back of Danilo's thigh. He cried out and immediately loosened his grip on her throat. She took a gurgling breath and then quickly swung up one leg. Danilo was knocked to one side and she pushed herself up. She pulled the knife out of his thigh and put the point of the blade against his chin.

“I told you that I prefer knives,” she hissed loudly at him.

But she didn't have the advantage for long. He kneed her in the back and she was thrown to the side, landed on something hard and immediately realized what it was—the gun! She quickly picked it up with one hand and pointed it right out into the darkness. She heard his steps on the stairs and followed him. One step at a time up to the top.

Now she heard him breathing from the other side of the room. Although it was already black around her, she closed her eyes to focus. Then she fired a shot.

For a second time stood still.

After that she heard somebody groaning.

Her arm was quivering with pain but she ignored it. She felt her way back to the fuse box. All the while she had her focus on the groaning. With a quick movement she switched the electricity back on. She turned round to see the victim on the floor.

It wasn't Danilo.

It was Phobos.

CHAPTER
FIFTY-FIVE

THE HANDOVER OF
Gavril Bolanaki to the Security Services had taken place at nine that morning. At the same time they had held a joint press conference in the police station with the Security Service in charge.

Gunnar Öhrn had felt stressed by the crowd but with the help of the press officer he had nevertheless managed to convey what a good job he and his team had done. When he left the press room he had felt a certain emptiness.

The rest of the morning he had been busy successively informing the Security Services about the case. Dumping all the papers onto their table and leaving was not his style. When he realized that the case really was over as far as his team was concerned, he felt the emptiness even more. Now there was nothing more they could do.

At four o'clock, Gunnar had gathered the team together in the conference room. Henrik sat up straight in his chair and stared hollow-eyed in front of him. Anneli Lindgren sat leaning with her arms on the table. Ola Söderström chewed his pen. Mia balanced her chair on its back legs. Her hair was carelessly put up in a tuft. She looked pleased. It was a victory for her that the case was finished, and she smiled at the fact that she would no longer have to meet her antagonist, prosecutor Jana Berzelius.

“It's a pity,” Gunnar had said, and looked out over the room.

The walls were now empty. The maps and the pictures of the victims had gone. The whiteboard had been wiped clean, the projector turned off.

“There are a lot of questions that still haven't been answered. And to top it all we've received a negative answer from Interpol. In their database there is no information about missing people from Chile.”

Gunnar looked disappointed. The chances of identifying the victims from the containers now seemed to have vanished. But when he described Anders Paulsson's suicide, one could sense a feeling of relief. The relief lay in the fact that Gunnar hadn't wanted to hand over yet another murder case to the Security Services.

“Why did he shoot himself?” said Ola.

“Moral qualms, presumably,” said Gunnar. “Conscience. The same with Lena Wikström. Nobody can live with crimes like that on their conscience.”

The silence settled over the team like a lid.

“Well then,” said Gunnar. “There is only one thing left to do.”

“Thanks for everything,” said Mia and got up from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“Aren't we finished?”

“No, we are not. There's still one thing left to do.”

Questioning looks from all were directed toward Gunnar.

“We're going to the docks.”

* * *

Five minutes later, Henrik Levin sat in his office and was fidgeting with the ghost drawing that Felix had made for him. It was a new drawing with three small ghosts on it. But that wasn't what he was thinking about. He didn't know how to react to the fact that he was to be a dad a third time. Deep inside he was happy but worries about the practical details overshadowed his happiness. He hadn't been able to sleep at all last night. And at the morning briefing he had been forced to concentrate to be able to follow it at all.

He looked up from the drawing of the ghosts and out through the window. Even though the case was finished, his head continued to process the events. His mind was on the dead children and he felt horror at the thought of his own children being kidnapped and trained as child soldiers.

He got the shivers.

The thoughts about Anders Paulsson made him reflect upon what drove a person to take their own life. He himself had created life. Twice. And now a third time.

He put the drawing to one side.

“What's the matter?”

Henrik gave a start on hearing Mia's voice. She stood in the doorway in full winter gear.

“You look dreadful.”

“I'm going to be a dad,” Henrik said slowly.

“Again?”

“Yes, third time lucky.”

“So you have fucked after all! Well done!”

Henrik didn't answer.

“Anyhow,” Mia went on. “Before I forget...”

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled one-hundred-kronor bill.

“Here you are.”

“Keep it.”

“No, I want to pay my way. I owe you for lunch and coffee. Take it!”

“Okay. Thanks,” said Henrik and got up and took the bill.

“The least I could do,” said Mia.

She wrapped her scarf round her neck three times.

Henrik pulled out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket, which was hanging on a hook behind the door.

He slid the hundred-kronor bill in with the other two already there.

Two?

Henrik was pretty certain that there had been three bills there before.

Mia noticed his surprised look and cut off his musings.

“Right, come on now. Let's get moving,” she said.

* * *

Phobos was lying against the wall. His chest heaved up and down at a fast pace. He was taking short panting breaths. His dark eyes were like saucers and they stared in terror at Jana. He held his hand against his throat. The blood was pulsating out quickly, seeping between his fingers and forming a growing red patch on his sweater. The Glock lay by his side.

Out of the corner of her eye she suddenly saw a silhouette. Danilo passed three meters from her, ran out from the room and into the next. She reacted immediately and ran after him. The pain in her arm was forgotten. She would get him. He mustn't be allowed to escape. Danilo vanished into the dining room and just as she entered the room she saw him disappear into the next room. She rushed after him. But he was too quick and with a couple of long strides he was out of the room and she saw him throw himself out of the back. When Jana reached the door she couldn't see him any longer. She was now completely still and silent.

Ready to shoot from her standing position.

Her heart pounded and her blood pulsated.

He had got away.

The bastard had got away!

She unwillingly lowered the gun and put it into her waistband at the base of her spine. Slowly the pain came back to her arm. In a desperate fury she forced herself to turn back into the house.

Back to Phobos.

* * *

Henrik Levin stood in the docks and beat his arms around him but soon realized it was unnecessary. His down jacket kept him warm and he had thermal underwear and heavy winter boots too. He stopped midmovement and looked out over the quay. A large ship was approaching and now and then it released a muted signal. Large snowflakes fluttered down from the sky and formed a layer of white on the ground. The container area was cordoned off and the police ribbon danced in the wind.

“Shall we go closer?” said Mia.

She stood beside Henrik. Her hands were stuck in her pockets, her shoulders drawn up and her face hidden by a knitted scarf. Only her nose and eyes were visible.

“We'll wait until the ship docks,” said Henrik and then nodded to Gunnar and Anneli who stood at the far end of the quay together with harbor staff and uniformed police officers.

They nodded back and then looked up at the ship which was now in the canal. The waves broke against the hull. A dozen or so seagulls were shrieking loudly and circling above the stern. Several sailors wearing green overalls were standing on different parts of the deck with mooring ropes in their hands.

When the ship was right next to the quay, the first ropes were thrown down, followed by the others, each flying in an arch over the railing. The long ropes were picked up by the harbor staff who fastened them round short iron poles. All the workers were wearing safety helmets and had large emblems on their backs.

The unloading started straightaway.

Henrik looked up at the hull where the containers towered up three storeys high.

Blue, brown and gray in turn.

* * *

“You are going to be all right,” said Jana.

She crouched down beside Phobos. He had sunk even lower against the wall, his head now leaning on his shoulder. He was completely quiet. All that could be heard were his short panting breaths. His sweater was covered with the red stain. The blood ran down onto the floor and formed a puddle. His eyes were still terrified, but now he had a glazed-over gaze.

“It's getting lighter now,” he whispered with a wheezing voice.

He coughed and some blood ran out of the corner of his mouth.

“You're going to be all right,” Jana repeated, but realized how stupid it was to lie to him.

He looked her in the eye.

“Now it's all white...everything is...white...” he whispered.

And then his hand fell down.

He closed his eyes and took his last breath.

Jana immediately got up from his side. She grasped the Glock and wiped it carefully before putting it into his lifeless hand. Then she went up to the fuse box and wiped all the switches. Then she crouched down next to Gavril's dead body and ripped off the tracking device attached to his trouser pocket. She picked up the other gun from the floor and wiped that carefully too before putting it next to him. For a moment or two she sat there and looked at him. And then she did what she hadn't done for ages.

She smiled.

A genuine smile spread over her face.

After which she got up and realized there was yet another gun she must get rid of. Quickly and with a pained look on her face because of her wounded arm, she fished up the Glock from her back. She must leave that there too. With a practiced hand she wiped off all the prints and then carefully lifted Gavril's fingers and put them around the magazine.

She was still not satisfied. An important detail was missing.

The knife.

She went back down into the cellar, crouched down and looked for it. Under a shelf she caught sight of the bloody blade. She managed to slide the knife out and then put it back in the thin sheath inside her waistband. Then she went back up the steps and looked a last time at Phobos.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered to him.

Then she left the house.