muscles. The two men carry him down the staircase, out through the front door, and into a waiting garbage truck.
95
Joona tries to call Pontus Salman back to shore. The rowboat glides farther away. Joona runs from the dock to the meet the psychologist and the two colleagues from Sodertalje. He accompanies them back to the dock and tells them to be careful, but he doesn’t believe that Pontus Salman is a danger to himself or others.
“But keep him in custody,” Joona says. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.” He hurries back to his car.
As Joona drives over the bridge over Fittjaviken, he reflects on Pontus Salman and how Salman sat in the rowboat and told Joona how he was convinced that Axel Riessen would want to sign the Paganini contract.
Joona had asked Salman if Riessen could refuse, but he said that Riessen would not want to.
As he dials the number for Axel Riessen, Joona can see Veronique Salman in his mind’s eye. The disappointed expression around her mouth and the fear in her eyes as she described how once one had kissed Raphael Guidi on the hand, there was no way out.
Those words, “the nightmare,” keep returning, Joona thinks. Palmcrona’s housekeeper had used it. Veronique Salman had said that Raphael made sure that everyone would tell him their worst nightmare and Pontus Salman had said that Palmcrona had avoided his nightmare by committing suicide.
Pontus had said, He was able to escape reaping his nightmare.
Joona reflects on the fact that Stefan Bergkvist never knew that Carl Palmcrona was his father. He thinks about the unbearable heat that burned the flesh right off the bones and made the blood boil-the heat that burst the boy’s skull.
You can’t break a Paganini contract even if you die.
Joona tries again to reach Axel Riessen on the phone and then tries the direct number to the ISP.
“Can you connect me to Axel Riessen?” he asks quickly.
“I’m sorry. He is not reachable at the moment,” the receptionist replies.
“I’m a detective with the police and I need to speak to him right away.”
“I understand, but-”
“Interrupt him if he’s in a meeting.”
“He’s not here,” she replies, raising her voice. “He hasn’t come in this morning, and we haven’t been able to reach him by phone.”
“Now I know,” Joona says while hanging up.
Joona parks his Volvo on Brahegatan outside the gate to Axel Riessen’s mansion. The massive front door is just swinging shut as he approaches, and he races to ring the bell. The lock rattles and the door is reopened.
“Hello there,” Robert Riessen says as he sees Joona.
“Is Axel at home?”
“He should be, but I just got here,” Robert replies. “Has something happened?”
“I’ve been trying to reach him.”
“Me, too,” Robert says, and he lets Joona inside.
They walk up a half staircase and enter a large foyer dominated by an elaborate rose-colored glass-armed chandelier. Robert knocks on the door and then walks right into Axel’s residence. They both hurry up to the private apartment in silence.
“Axel!” Robert yells.
They look around, going from room to room. Everything appears normal-the stereo system is on but no sound comes out, and a volume of the Encyclopaedia Britannica is lying open on the dictionary stand.
“Do you know if he was planning to travel?” Joona asks.
“No,” Robert replies, but there’s an odd exhaustion in his voice. “He does so many strange things.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You think you know somebody and… well, who knows.”
Joona walks into the bedroom and takes a quick look around. He sees a large oil painting leaning against the wall with its back facing the room and a puffy white dandelion past its bloom placed in a whiskey glass, and he notices an unmade bed and a book.
Robert has already left the room and started down the stairs. Joona follows him down and to the large kitchen.
96
Joona parks his car next to Kronoberg Park and walks to the police station while on the phone to the Sodertalje police. Something is nagging him; he wishes he had been part of the group to bring in Pontus Salman.
His worry intensifies when the Sodertalje officer explains that no one knows where Pontus Salman is.
“I’ll call you back,” the man says in a strong Gotland accent. “Just give me a few minutes.”
“But you did bring him in, didn’t you?” Joona asks.
“That was the plan,” the officer says doubtfully.
“I was very clear that he should be held.”
“No need to blame me,” the man says. “I’m sure all procedures were followed.”
He is heard to tap on his computer, mumble to himself, and then tap some more before he gives Joona the information: “Yes, he’s in custody here. We have also confiscated his weapon, a Winchester 490.”
“Good. Keep him there. We’ll send a car for him,” Joona says. The nearby Kronoberg Park swimming pool smells strongly of chlorine to Joona as he walks through the large glass doors.
He takes the elevator up and strides quickly through the corridor. He’s almost reached Carlos Eliasson’s office when his cell phone rings. It’s Disa. Time is very short, but he answers anyway.
“Hi,” Disa says. “Are you coming tomorrow?”
“You told me you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday.”
“I know, but I thought… just you and me.”
“Sounds good,” Joona says.
“I have something important to tell you, too,” she explains.
“Okay,” Joona says as he arrives at Carlos’s door.
“I-”
“Sorry, Disa, but I really can’t talk. I’m heading into an important meeting.”
“I have a surprise,” she says.
“Disa, I have to hang up now,” he says, and opens the door. “But-” Disa says.
“I’m really sorry, but I just can’t talk now.”
Joona walks into Carlos’s room, closes the door behind him, and sits down next to Saga on the sofa.
“We can’t reach Axel Riessen,” Carlos tells him immediately.
“We’re afraid these murders are all tied to the export authorization,” Joona says. “And we believe that Raphael Guidi is behind the whole thing. We need an arrest warrant for him as soon as possible-”
“Arrest warrant?” Carlos repeats, taken aback. “Just because Axel Riessen hasn’t answered his phone for two hours and has been delayed coming to work, you immediately assume he’s been kidnapped by Raphael Guidi- who, I might remind you, is a successful businessman with an unblemished record.” Carlos starts counting on his fingers. “Swedish police have nothing on him. Europol has nothing on him. Interpol has nothing. I’ve even talked to
