The phone emitted three short tones and the call was interrupted. The battery was dead. Annika started digging for the other battery at the bottom of her bag but gave up when she veered into the outside lane by mistake. The phone would have to wait until she got out of the car. Instead she turned up the radio again and to her delight heard that they'd just started spinning Gloria Gaynor's old hit 'I Will Survive.'
There were already several news reporters and photographers outside the sorting office when Berit and Johan Henriksson arrived. Berit squinted up at the futuristic building; the sun was glittering on the glass and chrome.
'Our Bomber is reinventing himself,' she said. 'He hasn't done letter bombs before.'
Henriksson loaded his cameras while they climbed the steps to the main entrance. The other reporters were waiting inside in the bright entrance hall. Berit looked around as she stepped inside. It was a typical 1980s building: marble, escalators, and ceilings reaching for the sky.
'Is anyone from
Berit and Henriksson looked at each other in surprise.
'Yes, over here,' Berit said.
'Could you come with me, please?' the man said.
The cordons had been lifted and the approach plowed, so Annika could drive all the way up to the steps below the stadium. She looked around. The sunlight was so strong she had to squint, but she couldn't see a soul anywhere near. She stayed in the car, leaving the engine running, while she listened to Dusty Springfield in 'I Only Wanna Be with You.' She jumped when there was a knock on the window right by her ear.
'Hiya! My God, you scared me there,' Annika said when she opened the door.
Beata Ekesjo smiled.
'Don't worry,' she said.
Annika switched off the engine and put her cellphone in the bag.
'You can't park here,' Beata Ekesjo said. 'You'll get a ticket.'
'But I'm not staying long,' Annika protested.
'No, but we've got to walk a bit. The fine is 700 kronor here.'
'So where should I park?'
Beata pointed. 'There, the other side of the footbridge. I'll wait here for you.'
Annika started the car again. Why do I let people push me around? she mused as she drove back the way she had come and parked among the other cars next to the new housing development. Oh, well, she could do with a couple of minutes' walk in the sunshine, that didn't happen every day. The main thing was not to be late picking up the kids from daycare. Annika took out the phone and changed batteries. There was a beep when she put the new one in, and 'message received' appeared on the display. She pressed 'c' to remove the message and called the daycare center. They closed at five, an hour earlier than usual but still later than she'd counted on. She breathed out and started walking across the footbridge.
Beata was still smiling, her breath a white cloud around her head.
'What was it you wanted to show me?' Annika said, hearing how gruff she sounded.
Beata continued smiling.
'I've found something really odd over here,' she said, pointing. 'It won't take long.'
Annika gave a quiet sigh and started walking. Beata followed behind.
At the same moment as Berit and Henriksson stepped inside the elevator at Stockholm Klara sorting office, the Chief District Prosecutor Kjell Lindstrom called the
'I'm afraid he's gone to lunch,' the secretary said when she saw Schyman wave his hands in a dismissive gesture. 'Can I take a message? I see… One moment please, and I'll see if I can get hold of him…'
Schyman's migraine just wouldn't go. More than anything he just wanted to lie down in a blacked-out room and sleep. He had, despite the headache, achieved something constructive during the morning. His talk with Eva- Britt Qvist had gone surprisingly well. The crime-desk secretary had said she thought Annika Bengtzon was a very promising manager whom she would give all her support; she wanted to join forces to make the crime desk function under Annika's leadership.
'It's a prosecutor and he's very persistent,' the secretary said, emphasizing 'very.'
Anders Schyman sighed and picked up the phone.
'So, the law is still at it this close to Christmas,' he said. 'Though you've got it the wrong way around, it's we who should be hounding you…'
'I'm calling about the explosive charge that has gone off at the Stockholm Klara sorting office,' Kjell Lindstrom broke in.
'Yes, we've got a team on its way…'
'I know, we're talking to them now. The bomb was meant for one of your employees. A reporter by the name of Annika Bengtzon. She must be given protection immediately.'
The words penetrated Anders Schyman's brain through a haze of Distalgesic. 'Annika Bengtzon?'
'The envelope was addressed to her and was set off by mistake in the terminal. We believe it was sent by the same person who's behind the explosions at the Olympic stadium and Satra Hall.'
Anders Schyman felt his legs give way under him. He sat down on his secretary's desk. 'My God…'
'Where is Annika Bengtzon now? Is she in the newsroom?'
'No, I don't think so. She went out this morning to interview someone. I haven't seen her since.'
'Man or woman?'
'What? Who she was interviewing? Man, I think. Why?'
'It's extremely important that Annika Bengtzon is found and given twenty-four-hour protection straight away. She shouldn't go home or to her workplace until the person in question has been apprehended.'
'How do you know the bomb was for Annika?'
'It was addressed to her in a registered letter. We're looking into the details right now. But most importantly, Annika Bengtzon has to get protection immediately. A patrol is on its way over to you; they should be with you any minute. They'll see to it she's taken to a safe house. Does she have a family?'
Anders Schyman closed his eyes and passed his hand over his face. This can't be happening, he thought, feeling all the blood draining from his brain.
'Yes, a husband and two small children.'
'Are they in a daycare center? Which one? Who might know? Where does her husband work? Can you get hold of him?'
Anders Schyman promised to take care of Annika's family. He gave the police Annika's cellphone number and begged them to hurry.
They walked away from Sickla Canal and past a small cluster of trees near the arena. The small pine trees had been torn by the explosion, one lay with its roots in the air, the branches of the others splayed in all directions. The snow was a foot deep and got into Annika's shoes.
'Is it far?' she asked.
'Not very,' Beata said.
They plodded on through the snow; Annika was beginning to get annoyed. The training facility loomed large above them, and Annika glimpsed the uppermost floors of the media building further ahead.
