Annika didn't hear what the woman was saying. She was lost in a deep pit of fear, which killed off any brain activity. She didn't even notice the stench from her own shit. She cried quietly while Beata was busying herself with something next to her, humming some old popular song. Annika tried to sing but was unable to.
'Don't try to talk yet,' Beata said. 'The rope squashed your vocal cords a bit. Here we go!'
Beata stood up next to Annika. She was holding a roll of masking tape in one hand and what looked like a pack of red candles in the other.
'This is Minex. Twenty paper-wrapped cartridges, 22 x 200mm, at 100 grams each. Two kilos. That's enough, I noticed with Stefan. He broke in two.'
Annika understood what the woman was saying. She realized what was about to happen and leaned over to throw up. She vomited so hard her whole body was shaking and bile was coming up.
'What a mess you're making!' Beata exclaimed disapprovingly. 'I should have you clean up after yourself.'
Annika panted and felt the bile dripping from her mouth. I'm dying, she thought. I can't believe this is happening. Why had she followed this woman down here? It's never like this in the films.
'What the hell did you expect?' Annika croaked.
'See, your voice is returning,' Beata said cheerfully. 'That's good, because I'd like to ask you a few questions.'
'Fuck you, you maniac,' Annika said. 'I'm not talking to you.'
Beata didn't reply but leaned over and pushed something onto Annika's back, just underneath the ribs. Annika reflected, breathed in, smelled damp and explosives.
'Dynamite?' she asked.
'Yep. I'm fastening it to your back with masking tape.'
Beata wound the tape around Annika's body and embraced her a couple of times. Annika felt this might be a chance for her to escape, but she didn't know how to. Her hands were still tied behind her back and the feet were fixed to a metal frame in the wall.
'There, that's it,' Beata said and got to her feet. 'The explosives are quite safe, but the detonator can be a bit unstable, so we'll have to be careful. Do you see this wire here? This is what I use to detonate the charge. I'm pulling it to over here, and do you see this? It's a battery from an ordinary flashlight. It's enough to set off the detonator. Amazing, isn't it?'
Annika watched the thin, yellow and green wire winding toward the small folding table. She realized that she didn't know the first thing about explosives; she couldn't say whether Beata was bluffing or telling the truth. At the murder of Christina, she had used a whole car battery. Why, if a flashlight battery was enough?
'I'm sorry it had to be like this,' Beata said. 'If you'd only stayed in the office yesterday afternoon we could have avoided all this. It would have been better for everyone concerned. Completion should take place in its proper place, and in your case that means the newsroom at
Annika stared at the woman- she really was insane.
'What do you mean? Has there been another explosion?'
let out a sigh.
'Well, I didn't bring you here for fun. We'll just have to do it this way instead. I'm going to leave you now for a while. If I were you, I'd try to get some rest. But don't lie on your back, and don't try to pull the chain from the wall. Sudden movements could trigger the charge.'
'Why?' Annika asked.
Beata looked at her with complete indifference for a few seconds. 'See you in a couple of hours,' she said and started walking toward the training facility on her clattering heels. Annika heard her steps disappear beyond the bend and then the light was gone again.
Annika carefully turned around, away from the vomit, and infinitely slowly lay down on her left side. She lay with her back toward the wall and stared into the darkness, hardly daring to breathe. Another explosion- had anyone died? Was the bomb meant for her? How the hell was she going to get out of this alive?
Lots of people were working on the stadium, Beata had said. That should be at the other end of the passage. If she screamed loud enough they might hear her.
'Help!' Annika cried as loud as she could, but her vocal cords were still damaged. She waited for a while and shouted again. She realized her cries wouldn't reach out.
She put her head down and felt panic creeping up on her. She thought she could hear the patter of animals around her but realized that it was only the sound of the chains around her feet. If only Beata had left the light on, she could have tried to get rid of them.
'Help!' she screamed again, this time with even less effect.
Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic…
'Help!!'
Don't breathe too quickly, you'll only start cramping up. Nice and calm now, hold your breath, one-two-three- four, breathe, hold your breath, one-two-three-four, you're doing fine. Just take it easy, you'll be all right, everything can be sorted out…
Suddenly the first digital notes of Mozart's 40th Symphony sounded in the dark. Annika stopped hyperventilating from sheer astonishment. Her cellphone! It was working down here! God bless the cellphone! She got up on her heels. The sound was muffled and came from over on her right side. The music played on, bar after bar. She was the only one in town who used this particular signal: number 18 on the Nokia 3110. Cautiously, she started crawling toward the sound as the melody started from the beginning. She knew she was running out of time, soon the answering service would pick up the call. And then she ran out of chain- she couldn't reach her bag.
The telephone went dead. Annika was breathing loudly in the dark. She remained propped on her knees, thinking. Then she carefully moved back to the mattress; it was warmer and softer there.
'Everything'll be all right,' she told herself. 'As long as she isn't here, I'm all right. A bit uncomfortable, perhaps, but as long as I move around cautiously, I'm all right. I'll be fine.'
She lay down and sang to herself, like an incantation, Gloria's old hit: 'First I was afraid, I was petrified…'
Then she cried quietly, into the dark.
Thomas was walking away from the Central Station with long strides when his phone rang. He got hold of it in his coat pocket just before the answering service picked up the call.
'We told you we close at five today,' one of the male staff at the daycare center said. 'Will you be here soon?'
The traffic on Vasagatan was so loud that Thomas could barely hear himself think. He stepped aside and stopped in a shop's doorway, asking what was up.
'Are you on your way, or what?' the man said.
Thomas was shocked by the anger that hit him in his midriff. Christ, Annika! He'd let her sleep this morning, had taken the kids to the daycare center, and was coming back home on time- despite the leak on the regional bill- and she couldn't even pick up her own children on time.
'I'm so sorry. I'll be there in five minutes,' he said and switched off.
Furious, he marched off toward Kungsbron. He turned the corner at Burger King, nearly bumped into a stroller loaded with Christmas gifts, and hurried up past the Oscar Theater. A group of men stood outside the jazz club Fashing. Thomas had to step out in the street to get past them.
This is what he got for being so understanding and equal-handed. His children were left waiting at a municipal institution the day before Christmas Eve because his wife, who was supposed to pick them up, let her work come before her family.
They'd been through this before. He could hear her voice through the city's noise.
'My work is important to me,' she used to say.
'More important than the children?' he'd shouted once. Her face had turned pale and she'd said, 'of course not,' but he'd barely believed her. They'd had a couple of furious arguments on the issue, especially once, when
