She threw away the coffee and frantically looked at a paper. 'The Bomber Was Close to Christina, Suspect Taken in for Questioning' was the front-page headline. Inside she found the big black headline: 'The Solution Lies in the Security Codes.'
'What the fuck!' she shouted. 'Who wrote this headline?'
'Hey, don't get hysterical,' Ingvar Johansson said to her.
She felt her field of vision fill with something red and warm, her gaze landing on the smug man in the office chair. She could see how pleased he was behind the nonchalant face he had on.
'Who approved this?' she asked. 'Did you?'
'I have nothing to do with the inside-page headlines, don't you know that?' he said and turned around to continue working. But she wasn't letting him off the hook that easily. She grabbed the back of his chair and swiveled it around so that his legs hit the desk drawer.
'Don't be an asshole,' she said, making a hissing sound. 'It doesn't matter if I'm screwed, don't you see? But it will damage the paper. It will hurt you, Ingvar Johansson, and Anders Schyman- and your daughter who works in the mail room in the summer. I'm going to find out who wrote this headline and on whose initiative it was done. Don't you worry. Who called?'
His smug grin was gone, replaced by an expression of distaste.
'Don't make such a big deal of it,' he said. 'That was the police press officer.'
She looked at him with surprise. The police press officer had no idea of what promises she had made. He was probably pissed off with the story being leaked. And that headline
She turned on her heel and walked away, not noticing the way people were staring at her. Scenes like this were commonplace at the paper and people always found it interesting to listen in. Bosses fighting was always great entertainment. Now they were wondering what had made the crime editor blow up. They would open the paper on pages six and seven and look at Annika's piece but not see anything out of the ordinary, and with that the fight would be forgotten.
But Annika didn't forget. She placed Ingvar Johansson's deed on top of all the others in a pile of shit that was growing taller by the day. Any day now she feared the shit would hit the proverbial fan, and then no one in the newsroom would escape without getting it on their faces.
'Do you want your personal mail, or do you want me to handle that as well?' Eva-Britt Qvist was standing in the doorway with a couple of letters in her hand.
'What? No, put them here, thanks…'
The crime-desk secretary walked up to Annika's desk on clattering heels and threw down the letters.
'Here you are. And if you want me to start making coffee for you, you can tell me straight to my face instead of sending the editor-in-chief.'
Surprised, Annika looked at her. The other woman's face was dark with contempt. Before Annika had a chance to reply, she turned around and stormed out.
Christ almighty, Annika thought, tell me this isn't happening! She's pissed off because she thinks I went behind her back and ordered her to start opening the mail. Oh, Lord, give me strength!
And the pile of shit grew a bit taller.
Evert Danielsson stared at his bookcase, his mind a blank. He had a strange feeling of being hollow. He gripped the desk tightly with both hands, trying to keep it, or himself, in place. It wouldn't work, he knew that. It was only a matter of time before the board would issue a press release. They didn't want to wait until a new assignment had been arranged for him; they wanted to show their strength and decisiveness without Christina at the helm. Deep down he knew that he hadn't been quite up to all aspects of the job during these years, but with Christina right above him, he'd been sheltered. Now that she wasn't there any longer he had nothing to hold on to. He was finished, and he knew it.
Some things he had learned in this time, however. What happened to people who were no longer wanted, for example. Often you didn't even have to make a decision to remove people because they would leave of their own accord. There were many ways of freezing someone out, and he was familiar with most of them, even if he hadn't personally made use of them very often. When the decision was made, by whoever it may be, the staff would be informed. The internal reaction was almost always positive: A person who was made to leave had seldom managed to retain any popularity. Then the public would be informed, and if the person was known, the media was turned loose. That was where the story could move in either of two directions. Either the media would side with the ousted person and let him or her have a good public cry, or they would gloat and crow, 'It serves you right!'
The first category was composed of mainly women, unless they were too highly placed. In the second category, you found mostly men from the private sector who were given enormous golden handshakes. He suspected he would end up with the latter. In his favor was the fact that he'd been fired, that he'd been made the scapegoat for Christina Furhage's death. It might be possible to steer things in that direction. Evert Danielsson felt that, even without quite being able to formulate the words in his empty mind.
There was a knock on the door, and his secretary popped her head in. Her eyes were a bit swollen and her hair was disheveled.
'I've written the press release. Hans Bjallra is here to go through it with you. Can he come in?'
Evert Danielsson looked at his secretary. She had stayed loyal to him for many years. She was close to sixty and would never get a new job. Because that's how things went when someone left, their assistants went with them. No one wanted to take on someone else's underlings. It didn't work. There would never be any real loyalty.
'Yes, of course, show him in.'
The chairman of the board came in, tall and dressed in a black suit. He was in mourning after Christina's death, the bastard- everyone knew he couldn't stand her.
'I think we should keep this as brief and civilized as possible,' Bjallra said and sat down on the couch, uninvited.
Evert Danielsson nodded energetically. 'Yes. Clean and dignified…'
'I'm glad we agree on that. The press release will say that you're leaving your post as director of SOCOG, the Stockholm Organizing Committee of the Olympic Games. The reason being that after the tragic death of Christina Furhage you will be given another assignment. What this will be is not clear at the moment, but the matter will be worked out in cooperation with you. Nothing about being fired or about your severance package. The board has agreed to keep quiet about that. What do you think?'
Evert Danielsson let the words sink in. It was a lot better than he'd dared hope. It almost sounded like a promotion. He let go of the desk with his hands.
'Yes, well, I think it sounds very good,' he said.
'There are a few things I'd like to talk to you about,' Annika said to Eva-Britt. 'Could you come into my office for a second?'
'I'm really very busy.'
'Now,' Annika said and walked into her room, leaving the door open. She heard Eva-Britt demonstratively punch the keys on her computer for a few seconds. Then she came and stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. Annika sat down behind her desk and pointed at the chair opposite.
'Shut the door and take a seat.'
Eva-Britt sat down without closing the door. Annika sighed, got up, and closed the door. She noticed that she was shaking slightly; confrontations always were unpleasant.
'What's the matter, Eva-Britt?'
'Why? What do you mean?'
