'I was hoping to get some shopping done today,' Annika said.
'I'll buy chocolates for my mother on the plane,' Patrik said.
He was spending Christmas with his parents in Smaland, in southern Sweden. Berit's two grown-up children were visiting her. She had a daughter in the U.S.A. and a son in Malmo.
'We've worked our butts off these past few days. Why don't we organize it so that we can all have some time off the next few days?' Annika suggested.
'Cool. I'd love to have Thursday off,' Patrik said. 'I could catch an earlier flight.'
'I'd like to get some cleaning done tomorrow; Yvonne and her family are arriving on Thursday.'
'Perfect!' said Annika. 'I'll leave early today and early-ish on Thursday.'
They moved to Annika's office to run over what had to be done. Patrik went off to get a copy of the rival.
Annika and Berit took their usual places, Berit on the couch, Annika with her feet on the desk. A second later Patrik came rushing in like a hurricane.
'They got the test back. They know what blew up Furhage!'
He waved the police press release in the air.
'Okay,' said Berit. 'What does it say?'
Patrik read in silence a couple of seconds. 'It was dynamite,' he said, disappointedly.
'What kind of dynamite?' Annika asked and reached for the press release. Patrik pulled it away.
'Hang on, hang on. This is what it says: 'The analysis of the explosives used at the detonation at Victoria Stadium, Stockholm, at 3:17 on blah-blah… when the MD for SOCOG, Christina Furhage, was killed, has now been completed. The substance used was a gelatinous explosive mixture containing nitroglycerine, as well as nitroglycol. It is marketed under the trade name Minex and is available in a number of weights and forms. The charge in question is estimated to have been approximately fifty pounds made up of fifteen plastic-wrapped cartridges, 50 x 550 millimeters in size…' '
'Fifty pounds, that's a lot of explosives,' said Annika.
'Especially when it's above ground,' Berit said. 'I'm not surprised the blast was felt all the way to South Island.'
Patrik continued, demanding attention: ' 'The batch in question was manufactured in Poland, sometime in the past three years. It is characterized by its high power, high density, and high V of D, velocity of detonation. It's soft in consistency and has a relatively mild smell. The substance is characterized by its low sensitivity…' What the hell does that mean?'
'Something to do with safety,' Berit said. 'It's a safe explosive.'
'How do you know that?' Annika was impressed.
Berit shrugged. 'I'm good at crosswords, too.'
' 'It has a high energy level, the volume of detonation gas being slightly above average, the power is 115 percent of ANFO and the density approximately 1.45 grams per cubic centimeter. The velocity of detonation is 5,500-6,000 m/s.' '
'Okay, what does
'Take it easy. Just technical stuff. I'm coming to the important part. 'Minex is one of the most widely used dynamite brands in Sweden. The general agent in Nora has sold it to more than a hundred building projects in the last three years. Including some Olympic sites. It has not been possible to ascertain to this point which lot the charge in question originated from.' '
'So it was common building dynamite,' Berit said.
'What do you
'They use it for all kinds of things. You blast to prepare for roads; in mines, in opencast mining, you make gravel out of rock with the help of dynamite, you make the ground level for building… We hired a blaster when we installed a new septic tank at our country cottage. It's done every day.'
'I guess so,' Annika remembered. 'They were blasting away like crazy when they built that new housing development next to us.'
'Listen, there's more here: 'The charge was initiated with the help of electric detonators. The firing switch of the device was a timer connected to a car battery.' '
Patrik put the paper down and looked at his colleagues.
'Well,' he said, 'we're really talking premeditation here.'
They sat in silence for a while, digesting the information. Annika took her feet off the desk and shook herself.
'This is a creepy one,' she said. 'So, who's doing what? Berit, you've got the victim's family; Patrik, can you do the analysis and the police hunt?'
Both of the reporters nodded and Annika went on: 'I've written a column on the builders who came to their workplace and held a minute's silence for their dead colleague. That will show how much they're mourning their friend.'
'What was it like out there?' Berit wanted to know.
'Well, there was a woman who just cried and cried. She was rambling on about guilt and punishment and evil- it was a bit spooky. I've left her out completely because it didn't seem right to expose her.'
'I'm sure you're right,' Berit said.
'Have we forgotten anything? Was there anything else?'
The reporters both shook their heads and went out to their telephones and computers. Annika filed her copy on the server, put her coat on and left. It was only half past one, but she wasn't going to sit around any longer.
The snow was still falling as Annika walked to the bus stop. Since the temperature was hovering around the freezing point, the snowflakes turned into a grayish brown slush the instant they reached the sidewalk. But the snow was managing to stick in other places, forming a fairly white cover on the grassy slope outside the Russian Embassy.
She sat down heavily on the bench by the bus stop. There was no one else there, which made her think that she'd just missed a bus. On top of that, she'd sat on something wet, a puddle or a snow patch. She sat on a glove.
They were spending Christmas in town. Thomas's parents would be with them on Christmas Eve. She had hardly any contact with her own family. Her father was dead and her mother still lived in Halleforsnas, the small town where Annika grew up. Her sister lived in Flen nearby and worked part time at the checkout at the Right Price. They hardly ever saw each other. She didn't mind; they had very little in common any more, apart from the time they'd shared growing up in the dying industrial community. Though Annika sometimes wondered whether they really ever had been in the same place all that time. Their experiences of the small town were utterly different.
The bus was nearly empty. Annika took a seat at the very back and went into Hotorget in the city center. She went to the PUB department store and bought toys on her Visa card for 3,218 kronor, trying to comfort herself with the bonus points she would earn. She bought a cookbook on sauces and a shirt for Thomas and a woollen scarf for his mother. Thomas would have to buy something for his father- he usually only wanted brandy anyway. She was back in the apartment at two thirty. After a moment's hesitation, she hid the gifts at the back of the big walk- in closet. True, last year Kalle had found all the presents there, but she didn't have the energy to think of another place at the moment.
She went out in the slush again and on a sudden impulse walked over to a nearby antiques shop. They had the most amazing collection of diamante jewelry, necklaces, and earrings, big like those on 1940s film stars. She went in and bought a classic gold-plate brooch with garnets for Anne Snapphane. The neat gentleman behind the counter wrapped it in shiny gold-colored paper and tied a glittering blue ribbon around the little parcel.
The children joyously rushed toward her when she stepped into the daycare center. Her guilty conscience stabbed her like a knife in the heart. This was what a real mother should do every day, right…?
They went to the Co-op supermarket and bought marzipan, cream, treacle, chopped almonds, gingerbread dough, and cooking chocolate. The children were twittering like little birds:
