that if there was a cock-up, it would be his fault and his alone.
The officer shrugged, and closed the door behind him.
Grens took a step closer to the bunk.
‘Lang, don’t mess with me. Get up.’
‘Piss off.’
One last step and he was close enough to touch the body lying there. Instead he grabbed the edge of the bunk and shook it until Lang got up.
They stood facing each other. Staring hard. Staring.
‘Interview time, Lang. Get moving.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘We’ve found matches with his blood group and DNA. We have a witness. You’ll be put away, Lang. For murder.’
Ten or twenty centimetres between their faces.
‘Grens, you’re a stupid twat. I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. Perhaps you should take it easy, be a bit more careful. You know that policemen have hurt themselves falling out of cars before.’
Ewert Grens smiled, showing plenty of stained teeth.
‘You can threaten me as much as you like. Whatever. There’s nothing I can lose now that isn’t worth putting you away for good. You’ll be wanking behind bars until you’re sixty.’
It was hard to tell which of them hated the other more.
Each man looked into his enemy’s eyes, searching for something that should be there. When he spoke, Lang’s voice was low, warm puffs of air in Grens’s face.
‘I’m not taking part in any more of your interrogations. Period. Just so you know, you old shit. If you or any other pig turns up to drag me off to just one more chat show, I’ll hurt the poor fucker badly. Take my word for it. Fuck off now. And shut the door behind you.’
Sven Sundkvist had phoned home and tried to explain why he had disappeared in the middle of the night without a word, just leaving a note. Anita had been upset; she didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t spoken to her, especially as they had promised never to take off suddenly like that without saying why. They ended up having a row, and when Sven tried to make it better, it just made things worse.
He had been on his way home, feeling cross at the world, speeding a bit now that the queues had thinned out. He had just passed the stupid oversized boats moored at the Viking Line terminal, when Lars Еgestam rang and started to speak quietly.
He wanted Sven to come to the prosecutor’s office for a meeting after hours. Just the two of them.
Sven Sundkvist had stopped the car, phoned Anita again and made everything worse still. Now he was back in town again, alone, not sure what to do with all the spare time. It was in fact only an hour or two, but just then an eternity.
It was one of those mild, warm June evenings. He walked slowly from Kronoberg, circling the streets, not taking in the music from far away and the smells from the restaurant terraces and pavement tables. Life was all around him and he should have been smiling, should even have joined in for a while, but he didn’t, hardly even noticed.
He was beginning to feel tired after a long night and what seemed like an even longer day.
He couldn’t bring himself to think about the video and about the awful truth he carried with him.
Is that what did Еgestam wanted to go over?
Did he want to have a go at shaking Sven’s loyalty?
He was too tired for that kind of thing. No such decisions, not yet.
They met at the Kung Bridge entrance a few minutes after eight o’clock. Еgestam was waiting. He looked the same as ever: fringe, suit, shiny shoes. He shook hands and opened the door with his ID card. They didn’t say much in the lift. Time enough for that later.
They got out on the eighth floor and Еgestam ushered Sven into his office, where he caught a glimpse of the view of the city through the window, the summer night overpowering the day.
He found a chair and sat down. Еgestam went off for a moment to get them both a cup of coffee. He also brought a plate of biscuits, which he put down next to a couple of massive investigation reports.
‘Sugar?’
‘Just milk, please.’
Еgestam was doing what he could to lower the palpable tension, to tone down any hint of drama, but his efforts weren’t all that successful. Both of them of course knew that their meeting had nothing to do with sharing a nice coffee break. It was too late for a start; everyone else had gone home by now, allowing them to talk together in confidence, without being overheard.
‘I didn’t sleep well last night.’ Еgestam stretched, raised his arms above his head, as if to demonstrate how tired he was.
Nor did I, Sven thought. I didn’t sleep at all, what with that damned video and worrying about Ewert. Is that what you want to talk about? I still don’t know what to think.
‘I kept thinking about your friend, your colleague, Ewert Grens.’
Not now. Not yet.
‘I had to discuss this with you, Sven. I believe there’s a problem.’
Еgestam cleared his throat, shifted in his chair, but didn’t get up.
‘You know that Ewert and I are not the best of friends.’
‘There’s quite a few people who feel the same.’
‘Yes, I know. However, I thought it was necessary to point out that this has nothing to do with my personal feelings for him. I’m worried about Ewert Grens in his professional capacity. Especially as he is in charge of the police work in an investigation that I am ultimately responsible for.’
He shifted position again. This time he got up, glanced at Sven and started pacing the room, clearly upset.
‘Take yesterday. I had a very strange meeting with Grens. He was just back from the Baltic ferry terminal. He had put Alena Sljusareva on board a ferry back to Lithuania. Without checking with me first.’
He stopped and waited for a reaction. He didn’t get one.
‘Early this morning I went back to the hospital mortuary, in an attempt to understand. During the day I’ve interviewed some of your colleagues. One of them, Detective Sergeant Hermansson, a very sensible officer who was new to me, quoted statements by two independent witnesses confirming that a woman went into the toilet at the end of the corridor before Lydia Grajauskas went in, just before she started running around with a gun and taking hostages. Both witnesses describe a woman who could be Sljusareva. It’s easy then to suppose that it was Sljusareva who provided Grajauskas with weaponry. So why then was Grens in such a hurry to send her back home?’
Sven Sundkvist did not answer.
The video. He had feared this meeting would be about the lost evidence, removed by a serving policeman in order to protect a colleague. The video that he now knew about. The video that would soon force him to choose between speaking the truth and lying.
‘Sven, I must ask you this. Is there anything you know that I ought to know?’
Sven still did not answer. He had no idea what he should say.
Lars Еgestam repeated his question.
‘Is there something?’
He had to answer.
‘No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Еgestam began pacing the room again, breathing rapidly, nervously. He had barely begun.
‘One of the best officers in the force, so I should relax, shouldn’t I? Sit back and wait for the results of his investigative work, right?’
A couple of deep breaths before he carried on.
‘But I can’t relax because something is not right. Don’t you see? Which is why I lie awake at night. Which is why I feel compelled to go to work absurdly early and lie inside the chalk lines around the position of a dead body on a mortuary floor.’
He turned round and stopped in front of Sven, looked at him. Sven tried to meet the other man’s eyes, but
