The Chosen (7 page)

Of course.
Shit.

‘There’s absolutely no way that Fredrika and I can deal with two major investigations – the fatal shooting and two missing kids. Forget it.’

‘I realise that; we’ll sort it out tomorrow. Unless of course there’s a connection, in which case it would probably be better to expand your team. Fast.’

Why would there be a connection? Because all three were Jews? Because the boys had gone missing on the day the teacher was shot? Were they actually missing? Kids got the most peculiar ideas;
they could be back home in a couple of hours.

‘Have the parents been interviewed?’ he asked, sincerely hoping that he wouldn’t have to speak to them as well.

‘Yes, you don’t need to think about that for the time being. And the Stockholm City Police and the National Crime Unit are helping to search for the boys. You won’t have to
deal with any of this until tomorrow.’

Good. Tomorrow was another day.

A busy day, by the sound of it.

‘The Solomon Community is also organising a search. They’ve gathered in the centre in Östermalm and they’re ringing everyone in the boys’ classes to see if anyone
has heard from them. You could drop in on your way home, if you feel like it.’

Why would he want to do that? They’d be in touch if the boys turned up.

It was eight o’clock. Alex wanted to go home. Listen to Diana telling him about her day. Have something to eat. Ring his children. If necessary he could come back in later, leave his
mobile switched on all night.

But to his surprise he heard himself say:

‘I’ll drop by and call you afterwards.’

‘Good. And Fredrika Bergman? Is she still playing the violin?’

‘She’s with her family.’

Alex’s response was curt and angry. To protect Fredrika. He thought about her frown, how pensive she had been. He hoped she wasn’t having problems at home. The way she had looked
today, she wouldn’t have the energy to fight a war on two fronts.

The weather was atrocious, and it seemed to be getting worse all the time. Stockholm looked deserted as he drove towards the Solomon Community for the second time today. Cars covered in snow
lined the streets like white sculptures, silent and motionless.

Nothing evoked stronger feelings than children at risk; Alex was well aware of that, so he wasn’t surprised when he walked in and saw how many people had gathered to support the
parents in their search for the two boys.

The general secretary recognised him.

‘Any news?’ he said, his tone almost pleading. He adjusted his glasses which had slipped down his nose. The yarmulke perched on the back of his head was black and crooked. It was
interesting to observe the effects of a divergence from normality.

‘I’m afraid not,’ Alex said. ‘I was about to ask you the same question.’

The general secretary shook his head gloomily.

‘Not a trace.’

‘And there’s no reason to suspect that the boys might have gone off somewhere of their own accord?’

‘No. Where would they go? They’re ten years old, there’s a blizzard and it’s minus five out there.’

Just as Alex opened his mouth to say something about children who went missing and where they usually went, he caught sight of someone he hadn’t seen for a long time.

Peder Rydh.

A tsunami of emotions surged through his body. Peder had been there when Alex’s career reached its zenith, when he was asked to lead his own freestanding team. He had selected Peder
himself, and Fredrika had joined immediately afterwards. As time went by they had become one of the best teams Alex had ever worked with.

The pain of loss seared his soul like salt on an open wound. He was leading a similar team now, with a small core and a wide periphery. But without Peder Rydh.

When had he last seen Peder? They had bumped into one another in town about a year ago, but that was all.

Peder was sitting at one of the tables, deep in thought. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hand, frowning as he read. The years had left a clear impression on his face. He looked hardened.
Hardened but balanced.

‘Excuse me,’ Alex said to the general secretary, and walked over towards Peder.

When he was only a metre or so away, Peder looked up and saw Alex. His face broke into such a broad grin that Alex had to take several deep breaths to stop the tears from coming.

They hugged each other tightly, without saying a word.

‘You’re looking well,’ Alex said when they had let go.

‘I’m fine,’ Peder said. ‘I don’t actually start until tomorrow, but they asked if I’d come in tonight.’

A shadow passed across his face, and a flicker of the defiance that had been so typical of him was visible for a split second.

‘What can you tell me?’ Alex said.

They sat down at the table. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss private matters.

‘Not much. The boys didn’t turn up for their tennis coaching session, and they hadn’t said anything to their friends about other plans.’

‘Have you met the parents?’

‘The mothers are over there; the fathers are out searching.’

‘Out searching.’ As if that was a feasible option. A search party in Stockholm city centre. In a blizzard. Senseless and pointless.

‘They seem, at least at first glance, to be harmonious families. One of the fathers is perhaps a little unstable, but I can’t decide whether that’s because of what’s
happened, or whether he’s always like that.’

Of course not – how could he possibly know when the investigation had been going on for less than an hour? And a person could be unstable for all kinds of different reasons.

Peder lowered his voice.

‘The community has a lot of contacts within the police.’

‘So I’ve realised,’ Alex said.

‘One name in particular has been mentioned several times over the last hour: Eden Lundell. I’ve never heard of him or her – have you?’

He certainly had.

Eden Lundell. A woman so strong that she could declare war on any country, all by herself. They had worked together only once, but that was enough. Alex had the greatest respect for Eden
Lundell.

‘I know who she is,’ he said. ‘She’s a very special woman.’

‘Special enough to find two missing boys and clear up a premeditated murder?’

‘I’d be very surprised if she got involved in all this,’ Alex said.

‘Why?’

‘Because she’s Säpo’s head of counter-terrorism.’

H
e was so damned good.

Like most other men, her beloved husband wasn’t perfect, but he was a bloody good lover. Which was fortunate, because otherwise he would never have won Eden
Lundell’s heart.

She buried her face in his shoulder to smother her cries as she came. Pulled him closer, wrapped her legs more tightly around him. Her heart was pounding like a hunted animal, and she could feel
his sweaty upper body pressing down on hers. Then he stopped moving and her pulse rate dropped.

Eden was satisfied. Obviously a successful encounter.

Mikael withdrew and lay down by her side. The sheet stuck to her skin as he laid his arm across her breasts and breathed against her neck. Closeness was important to him, and she let him be. For
a while, anyway.

‘Do you mind if I have a cigarette?’ she said.

‘Eden, for fuck’s sake!’

‘You can’t blame me for asking. One day you might say yes.’

‘No bloody chance.’

‘Goodness me, all this swearing. Are priests really allowed to swear?’

‘This one is.’

She caressed his arm distractedly. The bedroom still smelled of fresh paint. From the street came the muted sound of traffic. Quieter than usual; the bad weather must have persuaded people to
stay at home.

It had been Eden’s idea to sell their boring house and move into the city. Mikael had taken some convincing, but when Eden made the point that she would have more time for the family if
she had a shorter commute, he gave in.

‘Was it my mobile or yours that rang just now?’ she said.

‘Bound to be yours. The rest of us switch off our phones when we’re making love.’

Making love – was that really what they had just been doing? Eden would have said they were screwing, and that they knew exactly what they were doing.

‘You can’t be serious,’ Mikael said, raising his head as she slipped out of bed.

‘I’m just going to check,’ Eden said as she walked across the room to pick up her bag.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and took out her mobile. Mikael grabbed it.

‘Give it back!’

Sometimes she sounded like her daughters, barking out staccato orders and expecting instant compliance. However, she was far superior to the girls when it came to getting her own way. Mikael
maintained that he and the children lived in the shadow of Eden’s whims and caprices, but she thought that was unfair.

It wasn’t her fault that others were so weak.

Mikael gave her the phone and she listened to the message that came from a withheld number. It was the general secretary of the Solomon Community.

‘Eden, I don’t know if you’re in Sweden or if you’ve been following the news, but we’ve had two terrible incidents today. A member of staff at the Solomon
school was shot dead this afternoon, and this evening two boys have been reported missing by their parents. Give me a call if you can.’

She put the phone back in her bag. Mikael looked pleased as she lay back, resting on his outstretched arm.

‘Anything important?’

‘Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.’

She had already heard about the shooting, but not the missing boys.

Do I need to get involved? No.

For some obscure reason the Solomon Community had got the idea that they could count on her support and resources in various situations. This was, to put it mildly, a misapprehension. She
felt no loyalty whatsoever towards what were somewhat inaccurately referred to as ‘her people’.

‘I thought we might go away in March,’ Mikael said.

Did you indeed?

‘Where?’

‘Somewhere hot. Just you and me and the girls.’

As if they usually went away with a whole crowd of other people.

‘I don’t know if I can get away from work.’

‘I’m sure you can, if you book the time early enough.’

‘We’ve talked about this before; you have to realise there’s a difference between what you do and what I do.’

Mikael was a priest, and Eden loved him for that. Everything was possible in Mikael’s world. The sky was the limit as far as he was concerned, but his naive attitude towards time, and above all to obligations outside the family, drove her crazy. It created conflict and all too often led to arguments.

Things had been calm for a while now; Christmas had been enjoyable, and January hadn’t sprung any surprises. Eden had even managed to drop the girls off at day care and pick them up, just
like an ordinary mum.

A
normal
mum. One who didn’t feel like screaming ‘For God’s sake will you hurry up!’ as soon as she saw the twins ambling towards her, eager to show and tell
what they had been doing at day care. As if they had all the time in the world. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world, they would hand her drawings and trolls made of stones and all
kinds of crap that Eden realised other people took into work and placed on their desks; personally, she just wanted to chuck the whole lot in a box in the garage. She understood that the children
thought they had made something wonderful, but she felt as if she would be doing them a disservice if she lied. Ugly was ugly, end of.

‘How long do you think you’ll stay with Säpo?’ Mikael asked.

Excellent, he had already dropped his holiday plans.

‘Why do you ask? I’ve only been there just over six months.’

‘I’m asking because I know you, Eden. You’re a restless soul.’

She stared up at the ceiling. Was that true? Was she restless? Maybe, maybe not.

‘I’ll stay for a while. There’s a lot to do within their organisation before I’m satisfied.’

‘Their organisation? Not yours?’

No. She would never again make the same mistake as she had in London, becoming as one with an organisation that wasn’t hers after all.

The desire for a cigarette grew too strong.

‘Back in a minute,’ she said, getting out of bed again.

‘Say what you like, nobody could accuse you of being a romantic,’ Mikael said, and for a moment it bothered her that he didn’t sound in the least ironic.

She let the comment pass. In the bathroom she unzipped her toilet bag and took out the packet of cigarettes and the lighter she always kept in the side pocket. She ran water into the hand basin,
then opened the window and lit up. She closed her eyes as she blew out the smoke, the cold air cooling her body. Just a few drags, then she was satisfied. The odd snowflake found its way into the
bathroom, melting on her bare skin.

As usual she doused the cigarette under the running water and flushed the stub down the loo. She was brushing her teeth when her mobile rang again.

She went back into the bedroom. Why couldn’t the Solomon Community understand that she was neither willing nor able to help them?

But it wasn’t the Solomon Community. It was her boss, Buster Hansson, the General Director of Säpo, usually known as GD.

‘We have a problem,’ he said. ‘Efraim Kiel is back in Sweden.’

The telephone slipped out of Eden’s hand and landed on the floor.

‘What’s happened?’ Mikael asked, sitting up in bed.

‘Nothing,’ she said, picking up the phone.

But inside she was in turmoil.

Efraim Kiel. She could think of several reasons why he might turn up in Stockholm.

None of them was good news.

I
t was almost nine thirty, and Fredrika Bergman was sitting alone in the kitchen with a cup of tea. Spencer was in their bedroom, and she had asked him to stay there. They had had an
unexpectedly bitter argument about how he thought he could possibly go off to Jerusalem, because it turned out they had completely different perceptions of what was achievable, and what they could
demand of one another.