The theft at Waldemarsudde was of course the top story on all the TV news programmes, and Johan received much praise for his efforts at the morning meeting the following day. Regional News had been the first to report that the perpetrator had entered the museum and then made his escape across the ice. Of course, the other news editors at Swedish TV got their hands on some of Johan’s material and used it in their own reports. As soon as a reporter returned to television headquarters, he was supposed to share his material with everyone there. That way all of the reporters could make use of the interviews and pictures that were available. But Johan had begun to resist this way of operating. He didn’t want to run the risk of not being able to edit his own story just because he had to spend all his time providing material and information for everybody else. He also thought it was wrong that he and the cameraman, who worked hard to obtain unique images and exclusive interviews, should have to dole these out like free sweets to children and then see them be chopped into pieces for different broadcasts. That was no fun, nor did it do anything for his professional pride. Both he and the cameraman suffered. So he had started objecting to this procedure, and that in turn had provoked reactions from both management and his colleagues. It was certainly not a good strategy for anyone angling for a rise in salary, or who had ambitions about climbing the career ladder. On the other hand, he thought it might make it easier for him to be transferred to Gotland, if a permanent position was ever established on the island. Then the Stockholm office would be rid of a difficult reporter.
Even though he was now back in Stockholm, he couldn’t help wondering what was happening with the murder investigation on Gotland. When the morning meeting was over, he spent a few hours trying to get information. He tried ringing both Knutas and Jacobsson, but without any luck. Pia Lilja was at home in bed with the flu, so she had nothing useful to tell him. Finally he had to settle for talking to Lars Norrby. Johan asked him if anything new had happened in the investigation.
‘Well, nothing that I can really discuss at the moment.’
‘But there must be something you can tell me. We have to keep the viewers interested in the story, and that’s to your benefit too. So that anyone who happens to have information will contact the police.’
‘Don’t try any of your tricks on me. I’ve been in this job too long.’
Johan could hear that Norrby was smiling. He was still in the good graces of Visby’s police force after the drama of the previous year, so he decided to keep trying to get more information. After making various attempts to prise something out of the police spokesman for a good fifteen minutes, he finally had the man where he wanted him. When Johan asked if Jacobsson was away, since he hadn’t been able to get hold of her on the phone, Norrby replied that she’d gone to Stockholm on police business.
‘Why’s that?’ asked Johan.
‘Because of the robbery, of course.’
That stopped Johan short, and he wasn’t quite sure how to continue. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘The robbery at Waldemarsudde. We’re investigating a connection to the murder of Egon Wallin.’
Johan gave a start. What on earth was the man talking about? He waited for a few seconds, hoping that Norrby would let slip something more.
The police spokesman apparently found the silence bothersome because he then went on. ‘All right, let’s keep this between us, but the sculpture that was left behind at the crime scene at Waldemarsudde was the same one that was stolen from Egon Wallin’s gallery.’
Johan hadn’t known that a sculpture had been stolen from the gallery in Visby, but he decided to play along.
‘Oh, I see. Hmm. Well, thanks for the info.’
49
Max Grenfors was tipping back the chair at his desk, which was the focal point of the editorial offices. As usual, he held a phone to each ear. Next to him sat the newscaster, her eyes fixed on the computer monitor. She had earphones on and was watching a news story. So it would be best not to disturb them. The news producer was busy trying to find images for a report on domestic violence, which was always a difficult story to illustrate. There was a risk that the same old images would crop up over and over again.
All of the reporters were preoccupied with editing their stories; it was obvious from the pulse of the editorial offices that only a few hours remained before the news broadcast.
Johan felt as if he would burst if he didn’t tell someone the incredible news he’d just heard. He tapped Grenfors on the shoulder and motioned that he had something important to report. For once the editor acknowledged the urgency and ended his phone conversations. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. ‘Certain reporters seem to need help with everything. It’s crazy! Soon I’ll probably even have to do their interviews for them!’
Johan was well aware of how much the editor liked to get involved in a story, so he didn’t take his complaints too seriously. ‘Listen to this,’ he said, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to Grenfors. ‘The robbery at Waldemarsudde wasn’t just an ordinary art theft.’
‘No?’ A glimmer of interest appeared in Grenfors’ eyes.
‘No. The thief didn’t just steal a painting. He also left something behind.’
‘What was it?’
‘He put a sculpture near the empty frame where the painting used to hang.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes. And it wasn’t just any sculpture. It’s the one that was stolen during Egon Wallin’s gallery opening on the day of his murder.’
‘So what does it mean? That the person who killed Egon Wallin also stole the painting?’
‘Very possibly,’ said Johan.
‘How reliable is your source for this?’
‘Got it straight from the police.’
Grenfors took off the glasses that he’d begun to wear lately. He’d chosen designer frames, of course. ‘So there’s a connection between the theft and the murder. But how the hell does it fit together?’
He cast a quick glance at his watch.
‘Damn it all, we’ve got to have this. Get over to editing — you’ve got to put together a spot about this straight away.’
The news that there was a clear link between the daring burglary at Waldemarsudde and the murder of Egon Wallin, and that the perpetrator wanted the police to be aware of it, headed all the news programmes on Tuesday evening.
Johan was pleased, and not just because he was responsible for the hottest news story two days in a row. Before he went home, he was told to take the first plane back to Visby the next morning.
K arin Jacobsson looked her boss in the eye as he sat down at the table opposite her. And then she said the words that he didn’t want to hear.
‘I’m resigning, Anders.’
Everything started spinning around in his head. He couldn’t seem to grasp the meaning of the words; they just kept bouncing off him and disappearing in the distance.
Knutas slowly lowered his fork. He had just speared a big piece of boiled cod with egg sauce. ‘What did you say? You can’t be serious.’
He cast a glance at the clock on the wall, as if he wanted to document the moment when his closest colleague stated that she was leaving him.
Jacobsson gave Knutas a sympathetic look. ‘Yes, I am, Anders. Quite serious. I’ve been offered a position in Stockholm. With the NCP.’
‘What?’
His fully loaded fork was still hovering in the air as if his arm were frozen, paralysed by Karin’s statement. She looked down and began poking at her food as she went on. All of a sudden it seemed to Knutas that the whole cafeteria stank of egg sauce, and the smell made him feel sick.
‘It’s actually Kihlgard’s boss at the NCP who offered me the job. I’ll be working with the same team as Martin. It’ll be a challenge for me, Anders. You need to understand that. And there’s nothing holding me here.’
