Studio Sex aka Studio 69 / Exposed

She got to her feet. There were lots of alternatives.

'You can do it,' she said out loud.

She'd made up her mind. Never again was she going to set foot in a newspaper office, especially not this one. She would take her bag and box up her notes and leave journalism behind her forever. Determined, she opened the door.

The feeling of being out on a rough sea wouldn't quite go away. She stayed close to the wall so she wouldn't fall over.

Once she reached Berit's desk she quickly gathered her things and put them in her bag.

'There you are! Could you come into my office for a moment?'

She recognized the voice of the new deputy editor, Anders Schyman.

Surprised, she turned around. 'Who, me?'

'Yes, I'm in the fish tank with the hideous curtains over there. Come on in when you've got a minute.'

'I can come right now.'

She felt the furtive glances of the newsroom as she walked over to the boss's office. One thing I know for sure, she thought- it can't get any worse.

It wasn't a nice office. The tired curtains really were hideous and the air was dank and stale.

'What's that god-awful smell? Haven't you emptied the ashtray?'

'I don't smoke. It's the couch. Don't sit on it, the smell gets into your clothes.'

She remained standing in the middle of the floor while he sat on his desk.

'I've called Studio 69,' he said. 'I never heard the likes of such a personal attack, and we didn't even get a chance to respond. I've already faxed a complaint to the Broadcast Commission. The editor in chief may be away, but I've been here all day. Did they call you?'

She didn't answer, just shook her head.

'I know that so-called commentator. He worked for a while on my current affairs program, but I had to get rid of him. His behavior really was beyond the pale. He was forever conspiring and dissing people until the office nearly fell apart. Fortunately, he wasn't on staff but was freelancing, so once I'd decided, I could ask him to leave.'

Annika stared at the floor.

'And on the subject of planting,' Schyman said, pulling out a fax from the mess that had already accumulated on his desk, 'we've received an anonymous tip that the leader of one of the other parties in Parliament has been interviewed by the police in connection with the Josefin case.'

He held out the fax to Annika, who looked at it, stunned. 'Where was it sent from?'

'My question, exactly. Do you see the caller ID in the corner? That's the phone number of the Social Democrats' public relations office.'

'That's so cheap.'

'Isn't it? Brazen too. They don't even care we'd know right away who sent it.'

They fell silent.

Then Annika steeled herself. 'Nobody planted anything with me.'

Anders Schyman looked at her attentively, waiting for her to continue.

'I haven't discussed my coverage with anyone, except a little with Berit and Anne Snapphane.'

'With the news editors?'

Annika shook her head. 'Not much,' she said quietly.

'So you've handled this all on your own?'

He sounded a bit skeptical; Annika felt a bit edgy.

'Well, almost,' she said, tears welling up in her eyes. 'I can't blame anyone else.'

'Oh, no,' Schyman hastened to say, 'that's not what I meant. I think your coverage has been okay, good, even. The only thing you missed out on was the strip joint. You knew about that, didn't you?'

She nodded.

'We should have run that sooner. But to do what the Rival and Studio 69 have done, practically making the girl out to be a prostitute, that's a hell of a lot worse. How did you find out about the minister's overnight apartment?'

Annika heaved a sigh. 'I had coffee with his neighbor.'

'Great!' Schyman said enthusiastically. 'And what really happened with those youngsters in Taby?'

There was a quick gleam in Annika's eyes. 'That is just too much. They called us themselves and invited us to the youth center. They also told us about the rally in the park, or whatever that was.'

'Things got a bit out of hand there, I heard.'

Annika dropped her bag on the floor and threw up her hands in a gesture of exasperation. It felt good to be talking about this at last.

'They're in mourning so you can't have a serious conversation with them. We're supposed to feel sorry for them but not to go near them in any way. You're not allowed to breathe a word about anything in this country that's the least bit unpleasant or controversial. We think that death and violence and suffering will go away if we just bury them and never discuss them. That's wrong! It's getting worse every day! Those kids were crazy, they would have set fire to us!'

'I don't think they would have gone that far.' Annika was worked up and Schyman thought he should try to calm her down.

'Yes, they would. You weren't there,' Annika shouted. 'Those pathetic social workers took control of the grieving process. 'Crisis management team'- my ass! All they've done is to work the kids into a frenzy. I bet most of them hadn't so much as spoken to Josefin! What are they doing joining in an orgy of grief for a whole goddamn week? They were in some kind of a trance, Schyman, they didn't know what they were doing. They made us into Evil. As though we were to blame. They offered us up as scapegoats. Don't tell me I'm exaggerating!' Her face was blotchy from agitation and anger, her breathing sharp and hard.

The deputy editor eyed her with interest. 'I think you may be right.'

'Of course I'm right, for fuck's sake.' Annika was holding nothing back because that's exactly how much she had to lose.

He smiled. 'It's a good thing you don't swear like that in your copy.'

'Of course I don't.'

Anders Schyman started laughing.

Annika took a step forward. 'It's no laughing matter. It's serious. Those youngsters at the cemetery were like a lynch mob. I can't say for sure they would have harmed us, but they gave us a fucking good scare. We should report them to the police, really. Pettersson's car got badly banged up, not that you can tell with that wreck, but still. We should make it clear that people can't behave like that, even if they are grieving.'

'There are crisis management teams that do a fantastic job,' the deputy editor said gravely.

Annika didn't respond and the man watched her for a while in silence.

'You've been working quite a lot lately, haven't you?'

She immediately was on the defensive. 'I'm not overreacting because I'm overworked,' she snapped.

The deputy editor got to his feet. 'That's not what I meant. Are you on your regular shift now?'

She cast down her eyes. 'No, I'm on next on Saturday.'

'Take the weekend off. Go away and take a rest, you could do with some peace and quiet after what just happened.'

She turned around and left the room without saying a word.

On her way out from the newsroom she heard Jansson cheering out loud, 'Holy smokes, are we putting out a great newspaper or what! 'The Speaker admits, 'I was in charge of IB.' ' We've got a comment from the prime minister on the murder suspicions, and the Ninja Barbies have been arrested, of which we have the exclusive pictures!'

Annika quickly stepped into the elevator.

***

Not until she was standing outside her apartment block did she remember she didn't have any keys. She needed a key to open the door from the street as there was no code lock. She almost began to cry again.