The Bomber

picked up the whole pile of conflicts and leafed through it: demonstrations, protests, a think piece… Annika stopped. What was this? She fished out a small piece from the bottom and dropped the rest of the pile. 'Olympic Supremo Fires Secretary for Love Affair' was the headline.

Annika immediately knew who had carried the story: It was Kvallspressen, of course. The story was seven years old. A young woman was forced to leave her job at the newly established Olympic Secretariat because of an affair with one of her superiors. 'It's humiliating and outdated,' the woman had said to the reporter from Kvallspressen. Christina Furhage declared that the woman had not been fired but that her contract had simply expired. It had nothing to do with any love affair. End of story. The article didn't name either the woman or her superior. No one else had run the story. Annika wasn't surprised: It was extremely thin. This was the only conflict involving Christina Furhage that had been reported in the media. She must have been a brilliant boss and administrator, Annika concluded. For a moment she contemplated the mass of media coverage over the years about conflicts in her own workplace, and this wasn't even such a bad place.

'Anything interesting?' Berit asked from behind her.

Annika stood up.

'You're back, good. No, nothing special. Well, maybe. Furhage let a young woman employee go because she'd had a relationship with her boss. It's worth keeping in mind… What have you found?'

'Quite a lot. Shall we go through it quickly?'

'Let's wait for Patrik,' Annika said.

'I'm here,' he called from the picture desk. 'I'm just…' He walked away to attend to whatever he needed to do.

'Let's go into my office,' Annika said.

Berit went to her desk and hung up her things. In Annika's office, she sat on the old couch, balancing her notes and a cup of coffee from the coffee machine.

'I've tried to piece together Christina Furhage's last hours. The Secretariat had a Christmas party at a restaurant in west-central Stockholm on Friday evening. Christina stayed until midnight. I went over there and talked to the waiters. I also spoke to Evert Danielsson, the director of the Secretariat.'

'Good.' Annika said. 'So what were her movements?'

Berit looked at her notes. 'Furhage arrived late at the restaurant, after 10 P.M. The others had already eaten- a Basque Christmas dinner, as a matter of fact. She left with a colleague, Helena Starke, just before midnight. No one saw her after that.'

'The explosion was at 3:17 A.M., which leaves more than three hours unaccounted for,' Annika said. 'What does Helena Starke say?'

'Don't know, she's ex-directory. She lives in South Island, but I haven't had time to go there yet.'

'Starke's good; we have to talk to her,' Annika said. 'What else? What was Furhage doing before she went to the Christmas party?'

'Danielsson thinks she was at the office, but he isn't sure. Apparently she put in hugely long hours at the office, like fourteen, fifteen hours a day.'

'Superwoman,' Annika muttered, remembering Christina's husband's ovation for all the work she did at home too.

'Who does The Furhage Story?' Berit asked.

'One of the masters of style over at the features department. I went to see the family- that didn't produce much. Tricky lot…'

'How do you mean?'

Annika thought a second. 'Bertil, her husband, was old and gray. He was quite confused. He seemed to feel admiration for his wife rather than love. The daughter came in screaming and crying, saying she was glad her mother was dead.'

'Really…'

'How's it going?' Patrik said as he came through the door.

'Fine. What about you?' Annika asked.

'Well, this will be great,' he said, sitting down next to Berit. 'So far the police have found one hundred and twenty-seven pieces of Christina Furhage.'

Both Berit and Annika grimaced.

'That's disgusting! You can't use that!' Annika exclaimed.

The young reporter smiled, unruffled.

'They've found blood and teeth all the way over to the main entrance. That's several hundred meters.'

'You're making me want to puke. Have you got anything worse?' Annika said.

'They still don't know what the Bomber used to blow her up. Or they're not saying.'

'So what will your story be?'

'I've talked to an all-right cop about the hunt for the killer. I can do that.'

'Okay,' Annika said. 'I've got some stuff on that, too. What have you got?'

Patrik leaned forward, his eyes shining.

'The police are looking for Christina Furhage's laptop. They know she had a laptop computer with her on the Friday night; a girl from the Secretariat saw it. But it's gone, it wasn't among the debris at the arena. They believe the murderer must have taken it.'

'Couldn't it have been blown up?' Berit asked.

'Impossible, at least according to my source,' Patrik said. 'The computer is gone, and that's their best lead, so far.'

'Anything else?' Annika said.

'They're considering asking Interpol to help catch the Tiger.'

'It wasn't the Tiger,' Annika said. 'It was an inside job. The police are sure of that.'

'How do they know?' Patrik said with surprise.

Annika thought about her promise not to say anything about the security codes. 'Trust me, I've got a reliable source. What else?'

'I've talked to the staff at the Olympic Secretariat. They're on the verge of a collective breakdown. Christina Furhage seems to have been a Christ figure to them. Everyone's in tears, including Evert Danielsson. I heard him through his door. I don't know how they're going to get by without her. She seems to have had all the good qualities a person can have.'

'Why do you sound so surprised?' Berit said. 'Isn't it possible for a middle-aged woman to be liked and appreciated?'

'Sure, but to that extent…'

'Christina Furhage had an outstanding career, and she handled her job as Olympic supremo excellently. When a woman succeeds in running a project like this from start to finish, you can bet your life she's something out of the ordinary. Twenty-eight simultaneous world championships, that's what the Olympics is.'

'Are her achievements so remarkable just because she was a woman?' Patrik said teasingly, and that really made Berit hot under the collar.

'Oh, please, will you grow up!'

Patrik got to his feet. 'What the hell do you mean by that?' he exclaimed.

Annika wanted to back up her female colleague. 'Patrik, you're a man and you aren't affected by the oppression of women. Of course, it's more difficult for a woman than for a man to hold down a position like hers, just as it would be more difficult for someone who was deaf and dumb than for someone with his faculties intact. Being a woman is tantamount to being a walking handicap. Do you have anything more?'

Patrik was bemused. 'What do you mean, 'a walking handicap'?'

The atmosphere was getting a little tense. Annika let it drop. 'Do you have anything else?'

He leafed through his notes.

'The hunt for the Bomber, the Olympic Secretariat in shock… No, that's all I've got.'

'Okay, Berit does Christina Furhage's last day. I do the family and add to your story on the hunt for the killer. Finished?'

They parted without saying anything more. The strain is beginning to show on us, Annika thought. She