She nods, walking into the house, leaving the door ajar, and returns with a blue bowl filled with mail.
“Thank you,” Joona says as he takes the bowl.
Edith closes the door completely and they hear her locking it behind her. A few seconds later, they hear the whirring of the dog’s tether again. They hear his aggressive barking behind them as they walk to the car and climb in.
Saga starts the engine, then puts the car into gear and turns it around. Joona puts on protective gloves to sort through the letters in the bowl and then pulls out a manila envelope with a handwritten address. He opens it carefully and just as carefully slides out the photograph for which at least two people have died.
47
Saga Bauer pulls onto the shoulder of the road and parks. The grass in the ditch is so tall it brushes the passenger-side window. Joona Linna remains absolutely still as he contemplates the photograph.
There’s something fuzzy on the upper edge of the picture, but in general, it is perfectly sharp. Probably the camera was hidden and the photograph taken secretly.
There are four people sitting in the large box of a concert hall. Three men and one woman. Their faces are clearly visible. Only one person is turned away, but even that face is not hidden.
There’s champagne in a chiller and the table has been set so they can converse and eat and still listen to the music.
Joona recognizes Carl Palmcrona right away. He holds a champagne flute. Saga can identify two of the other people.
“That one is Raphael Guidi, the weapons dealer mentioned in the blackmail letter,” she says as she points to a man with thin hair. “And the one looking away is Pontus Salman, the head of Silencia Defense.”
“Weapons,” Joona says.
“Silencia Defense is a well-known company.”
Under the spotlight, onstage behind the men, a string quartet can be seen: two violins, a viola, and a cello. The musicians are all men. They sit in a half circle, their faces calm in concentration. It’s hard to tell if their eyes are closed or slightly open, whether they are looking at their music or simply following the different parts.
“Who is the fourth person, the woman?” Joona asks.
“Let me think and it’ll come to me,” Saga replies as the wheels turn in her mind. “I do recognize her, but… damn…”
Saga’s voice fades as she stares at the woman in the picture.
“We have to find out who she is,” Joona says quietly.
“Right.”
Saga starts the car and, at the same time she bumps back onto the road, she has the answer. “That’s Agathe al-Haji,” she says. “She’s the military adviser to President Omar al-Bashir.”
“Sudan.”
“Right.”
“How long has she been his adviser?”
“Fifteen years or so. I can’t really remember.”
“So what’s going on in this picture?” Joona muses.
“I have no idea. I mean… the fact that the four of them are meeting is not so strange. Perhaps they are discussing business proposals,” Saga speculates. “These kinds of meetings happen all the time. This could be a first encounter. You meet, explain your intentions, and maybe ask for ideas, even a preliminary decision, from Carl Palmcrona.”
“And his positive reaction could mean that the ISP will most likely give export permission in the end?”
“Exactly. It would be a good indication.”
“Does Sweden usually export war materiel to Sudan?” asks Joona.
“No, I don’t think so,” she answers. “We should ask an expert. I believe that China and Russia are the largest exporters to Sudan, but I’m not so sure anymore. There was a peace pact made in Sudan in 2005 and I imagine that the export market was opened after that.”
“So what does this picture tell us? Why would Carl Palmcrona take his own life because of it? I mean, they met in public in a concert-hall box.”
In silence they keep driving south on the dusty highway while Joona goes over the photograph again and again, turns it over, notices the torn corner, and thinks.
“So this actual photograph cannot be dangerous to anyone,” he states.
“Not if you ask me.”
“Did Palmcrona take his own life because he realized that the person who took this picture could expose something? Maybe the photograph is just a warning? Maybe Penelope and Bjorn are more important than the picture?”
“We don’t know a damn thing.”
“Yes, we do,” Joona says. “The problem is that we don’t know how to connect the dots. We’re still guessing at the orders for this hit man. It looks like he was only trying to find this photograph to destroy it and that he killed Viola because he thought she was Penelope.”
“Perhaps Penelope took the shot,” Saga suggests. “Even so, this killer wasn’t content with just her murder.”
“Exactly. We don’t know which one comes first: Is the picture a link to the photographer, who is the true threat? Or is the photographer the link to the photograph, the primary threat?”
“The first attack was on Bjorn’s apartment.”
They say nothing for a few minutes. They’ve almost gotten back to the police station when Joona takes another close look at the photograph. The four people in the box, the food, the four musicians onstage, the instruments, the heavy curtain, the champagne bottle, the champagne flutes.
“Looking at this photograph,” Joona says, “I see four faces. One of them must be behind the murder of Viola Fernandez.”
“Right. Palmcrona is dead, so we can probably exclude him. So that leaves three… and two of them are out of our reach, so we can’t question them.”
“We’ve got to interview Pontus Salman,” Joona says.
48
It is difficult to find a real human at Silencia Defense AB. All outside lines lead to the same labyrinth of automated menus and recorded information. Finally, Saga decides to bypass it all with the number 9 and the star key. She is connected to the company secretary. She ignores this person’s questions and goes right to what she wants. The secretary says nothing for a moment and then tells Saga that she must have gotten the wrong number and that everyone has gone out for lunch.
“Please call back tomorrow morning between nine and eleven and-”
“Tell Pontus Salman to be ready for a visit from Sapo at two this afternoon,” Saga says in a loud, firm voice.
“I’m sorry,” the secretary says. “He’s in meetings all day.”
“Not at two o’clock,” Saga answers sweetly.
“Yes, his appointment book says that-”
