suspect, which has concluded in the part of town called Diplomat City. It appears that the suspect has entered the German embassy. Saga Bauer is talking to a colleague outside the Saluhall. The officer is wrapped in a blanket. Saga catches Joona’s eye and waves him over. He walks toward the women and nods a greeting.
“I was sure I’d get here before you,” Joona says.
“Too slow, Joona, you’re too slow.”
“Yes, I am.” He grins as he replies.
The policewoman in the blanket looks at Joona and says hello.
“This is Mira Carlsson from Span,” Saga says. “She was one of the first into the Saluhall and she thinks she hit our man.”
“But you didn’t see his face,” Joona states.
“No, I didn’t,” Mira confirms.
Joona looks at the entrance to the Saluhall and then turns to Saga.
“They assured me that all the buildings nearby were secure,” he mutters bitterly.
“They assumed these were too far away-”
“They assumed wrong,” Joona says.
“Yes,” Saga agrees, and gestures at the building. “He was behind the fence of this entrance and he was able to fire a shot through Penelope’s window.”
“So I heard. She was lucky,” Joona says softly.
Barriers were up in the area around Ostermalms Saluhall and small numbered signs marked the first findings: a shoe print and an empty cartridge from a full metal jacket American-made precision bullet.
Farther inside the open doors, Joona can see some tomatoes scattered across the floor along with a battered-looking magazine from a Swedish AK-5.
“Stewe Billgren, our colleague from Span,” Saga continues, “followed the suspect to Diplomat City and reports that he walked into the German embassy through the front door.”
“Any possibility he could be mistaken?”
“Maybe… we’re in contact with the embassy and… wait”-she quotes from her notebook-“they say that they have not ‘registered any unusual activity within the embassy grounds.’ ”
“Have you talked to Billgren yourself?”
“Yes.” Saga looks at Joona seriously. “His hearing was damaged when the suspect blew up the stolen car. He can hardly hear a thing. However, he’s absolutely certain what he saw. He clearly saw the suspect enter the German embassy.”
“And perhaps he went on through and back out on the other side.”
“Well, we have our people surrounding it now and a helicopter in the air. We just need permission to enter the building.”
Joona takes a quick look at the Saluhall. “That can take a while.” He takes out his cell phone and says, almost to himself, “I’m going to have a chat with Klara Olofsdotter.”
Klara Olofsdotter, the main prosecutor for the International Prosecutor’s Office, picks up the phone on the second ring.
“I know it’s you, Joona,” she says without a greeting. “And I know what’s going on.”
“Then you also know we must get inside that embassy.”
“That’s not so easy. This is always a damned sensitive area, excuse my language. I’ve talked with the ambassador’s secretary by phone,” Klara Olofsdotter explains. “She insists that everything is absolutely normal at the embassy.”
“We know the suspect is inside,” Joona says.
“How could he have gotten in?”
“He might be a German citizen demanding his right for help from the embassy. They’ve just opened. He could also be a Swedish part-time employee or he has the pass code or… some kind of diplomatic status. Maybe he has immunity or he’s being protected by someone. We just don’t know. He might even be a close relative to the defense attache or the ambassador, Joachim Rucker, himself.”
“But you don’t even know what he looks like,” she says. “How could we identify him even if they let us inside?”
“I’ll get a witness,” Joona says.
There’s a moment of silence. Joona can hear Klara Olofsdotter breathing on the other end of the line.
“All right. Then I’ll find a way to get you in,” she says at last.
82
Joona Linna and Saga Bauer are in Penelope’s protected apartment. No lamps are lit. The morning sun shines through the broken window. Penelope Fernandez sits on the floor with her back against the innermost wall and she’s pointing at the window.
“Yes, that’s where the bullet came through,” Saga corroborates.
“The lamp saved my life,” Penelope says as she lowers her hand.
They’re looking at the remains of the window lamp, its hanging cord and its broken plastic socket.
“I turned it off to see out a little better. Something was going on down on the square,” Penelope says. “The lamp started to sway then and he thought it was me, right? He thought it was me moving and the heat was from my body.”
Joona turns to Saga. “Did he have an electro-optic scope?”
Saga nods and says, “According to Jenny Goransson, he did.”
“What’s that?” Penelope asks.
“It seeks heat-you’re right, the lamp saved your life,” Joona answers.
“Good God in heaven,” Penelope whispers.
Joona looks at her calmly and his gray eyes glitter.
“Penelope,” he says slowly. “Actually, you have seen his face, right? Not this time, but before. You said you didn’t, but… now I want you to nod if you believe you can describe him.”
Penelope wipes her cheeks quickly and looks up at the tall detective. She shakes her head.
“Any description at all?” Saga asks gently.
Penelope listens to the detective inspector’s voice and his mild Finnish accent and wonders how he can be so sure that she’s seen the man’s face. She had seen him, but she’s not sure she can describe him. Everything had happened so quickly. She had only a glimpse of him. Rain was on his face. It was just seconds after he’d killed Bjorn and Ossian.
She wishes she could erase every memory.
But the man’s tired, almost concerned face is lit up again and again by the white flashes of lightning.
Saga Bauer walks over to Joona, who is near the window, reading a long text message he’s just received.
“Klara Olofsdotter has been speaking with the chief justice who has, in turn, spoken with the German ambassador,” Joona says. “Three people will be allowed into the embassy for one hour. This hour will begin in forty-five minutes.”
“We’d better hurry over there right now,” Saga says.
“No reason to hurry,” Joona says as he leisurely looks out over the square.
Journalists swarm around the barricades protecting the Saluhall.
“Did you tell the prosecutor that we have to go in armed?” asks Saga.
“We have to coordinate everything with the German security force,” Joona replies.
“Who’s going in?”
Joona turns to her. “Maybe… who tracked him down?”
“Stewe Billgren,” she says.
