Hostage (35 page)

He decided to call Eden, to discuss what to do about the government demand. It really wasn’t part of the General Director’s remit to involve himself in specific cases, but since
Zakaria’s fate had attracted so much attention and had led to such dangerous consequences, it had become a matter for the top brass.

He called her office, but was informed that she wasn’t available.

‘Of course,’ Buster said. ‘She’s in a meeting with the Germans.’

He ended the call, and almost immediately Henrik Theander, head of counter-espionage, appeared.

‘Do you have a minute?’

‘Not really – what’s it about?’

‘Eden and Efraim Kiel, the Mossad agent.’

Buster put down the phone.

‘Yes?’

‘He’s made an approach.’

Buster’s stomach contracted into a cold knot. No, no and no. They didn’t have time for this. Not now. Not when hundreds of people were heading towards their deaths.

‘What kind of approach?’

‘He’s standing outside the building.’

Buster wasn’t sure he understood.

‘Outside what building?’

‘Our building. Police HQ. He’s standing opposite the entrance on Polhemsgatan.’

Throughout his career, Buster had been known for his calm approach, his coolness under pressure, but this time there was too much going on all at once.

‘Right, and what’s he doing there? Is he trying to get in?’

‘No, he’s waiting.’

‘Waiting? Who for?’

‘Eden?’

Buster pictured the scene. Sooner or later, Eden would leave work and head out into the darkness, where the Israeli was waiting for her on the pavement.

‘He’s not exactly being discreet.’

‘No.’

The knot in his stomach grew, spreading upwards into his chest and towards his heart. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. Telling the government that they might have got it wrong in the
case of Zakaria Khelifi suddenly seemed like a piece of piss. Explaining that they had managed to recruit a Mossad agent to run the counter-terrorism unit would be considerably worse.

‘What do we do now?’ Buster said.

‘The same as Efraim Kiel. We wait.’

T
he man was still lying unconscious on the floor. The passengers appeared to be welded to their seats. Erik Recht was grateful for their silence,
although he suspected that it wouldn’t last much longer. Soon they would start asking questions, wanting to know what was going on. What would he say to them? That everything was fine, that
it was perfectly normal for the captain to lock his co-pilot out of the cockpit? That the man Erik had just knocked out was someone who definitely deserved such treatment?

He needed to call his father again, explain the situation, tell him what had gone on. Warn him about what could happen now that Karim was alone in the cockpit.

But first of all, he had to think.

The only way into the cockpit was through a security door, built to withstand an attack by hijackers or anyone else who might constitute a threat. Erik couldn’t open the door from the
outside; he was dependent on being let in by someone on the inside. Several people had pointed out the weakness in this system, but that was the way things were.

He wouldn’t be able to kick or break down the door. Nor would it be possible to pick the lock. Automatically, his hands went through his pockets, seeking some forgotten object that might
help him. But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

‘What’s going on?’

A male voice came from the back of the cabin.

Erik looked around, trying to focus on giving an impression of calm competence. Which was difficult after what had just happened.

A hand shot up. ‘I’m the one who asked.’

Only now did Erik realise that several of the passengers were crying.

A woman a few rows further forward put her fears into words: ‘You have to give us some kind of information. The plane is going to arrive several hours late. And now this. What are you
doing?’

She gestured towards the unconscious man and Erik’s bloodstained shirt.

He searched for the right words. ‘We are in an extremely unusual situation. Unfortunately, I am unable to share all the details with you, because I don’t have them. And I realise I
am asking the impossible when I say that you must continue to be patient, but I’m afraid that’s all I can do right now.’

People shuffled anxiously.

‘Why are you locked out?’ the man at the back wanted to know.

Erik swallowed. ‘Because Captain Sassi is unable to open the door from the inside at the moment, but we’ll soon sort it out.’

Anything else would be a disaster, although he didn’t say that.

He needed help. His one-man show was over. He would start by going back to the bar and telling Lydia what had happened.

But the woman who had spoken earlier wasn’t satisfied with Erik’s response.

She pointed to the man on the floor. ‘Who’s he?’ she said.

Erik looked at the man he had just knocked out.

That’s exactly what I’d like to know, he thought.

T
ime would soon run out. The plane would have used up all its fuel within just a few hours, and Fredrika Bergman felt nothing but sheer
despair.

They had called Jerker Gustavsson, who was one of the people who had been in contact with Zakaria’s phone both before and after the date on which he claimed he had acquired it, and luck
had been on their side. Jerker was actually at a restaurant in Södermalm, celebrating his mother’s seventy-fifth birthday, rather than at home in Västerhaninge. Like everyone else,
he was nervous when he heard that the police wanted to speak to him, but he certainly wasn’t uncooperative.

‘You’re welcome to come to the restaurant,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to leave my family.’

‘Someone will be with you in twenty minutes,’ Fredrika replied.

And they were. A patrol car was dispatched immediately with its blue light flashing, and time moved on inexorably.

Eden and Sebastian had been given new information by their German colleagues, who had received another email. The pilot was going to crash the plane into the Capitol building, regardless of
whether the hijackers’ demands were met. No reason was given.

Fredrika felt something like physical pain when Eden told her what the Germans had said. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Alex. His son would be dead within just a few hours, and
there was nothing anyone could do for him. Unless Erik could save himself by putting Karim Sassi out of action.

‘What’s our assessment with regard to the reliability of the German intelligence?’ the head of the investigation unit asked when Eden had finished speaking.

‘As we established earlier, it’s not possible to make any kind of assessment. The only thing we know for sure is that the original information about a hijacking taking place turned
out to be correct, and it also seems likely that the captain is involved, as the first email stated. To put it briefly, we have to take this new intelligence seriously.’

Alex was sitting at the table listening, pale and exhausted. Erik still hadn’t been in touch, and they were now considering calling Karim, just to get some sign of life from the plane.

‘Is that our next step?’ Dennis asked. ‘Calling Karim Sassi?’

‘Later,’ Eden said curtly.

Later? There was no later.

‘Have the Germans managed to identify the person who sent these emails?’ Dennis wanted to know.

‘They’ve tried everything they can, but without success. It’s as if the messages were sent from outer space.’

It was obvious that everyone in the group was seething with impatience. Hour after hour had passed, and the plane was still heading for destruction.

We have to have a breakthrough, Fredrika thought. Otherwise we are going to lose both our judgement and our morale.

‘Surely, the person who sent the emails has to be someone who was involved?’ Alex said.

‘Not necessarily,’ Eden replied. ‘After all, we don’t know exactly who’s behind the hijacking, apart from Karim of course. It’s not impossible that someone
else who is mixed up in all this couldn’t help boasting about what’s going to happen.’

‘Why would someone who’s involved in the hijacking talk about it several weeks in advance?’ Sebastian said.‘It doesn’t make sense.’

A fleeting thought, impossible to catch. They were missing something, Fredrika could feel it in her whole body. The answer to Sebastian’s question was right there in front of them –
they just couldn’t see it.

Why would someone who’s involved in the hijacking talk about it several weeks in advance?

Fredrika came up with two possible answers.

‘Either because he or she wants to appear innocent,’ she said slowly, ‘or the emails were sent to the Germans to make sure we don’t miss what’s
happening.’

Eden stared at her incredulously.

‘I’m sorry? So that we don’t miss the fact that someone is threatening to blow up a jumbo jet?’

Alex met Fredrika’s gaze; he straightened up and nodded slowly. He understood what she was saying.

‘That’s not what she means,’ he said. ‘Think about what was actually in the emails. Details that we would never have found out otherwise.’

The room fell silent.

‘Go on,’ Sebastian said.

‘I can’t explain it,’ Fredrika said. ‘But . . . these messages. Aren’t they just like the book of Tennyson’s poetry that we found on Karim’s bookshelf?
Way too obvious, yet with an attempt at vagueness. The book clearly points to Tennyson, so that we won’t miss the fact that Karim has something to do with Tennyson Cottage – and yet we
can’t find anything else pointing in that direction. Not one single thing.’

Eden shook her head crossly. ‘Where are you going with this?’

Another idea began to form in Fredrika’s mind, and this time she managed to hold onto it.

‘I don’t know,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s just that this entire business is littered with completely bizarre elements. And I don’t like these weird arrows
that keep on popping up, as if someone is doing everything in their power to make sure we don’t miss Karim Sassi’s involvement.’

‘But Fredrika, he
is
involved,’ Eden said. ‘Erik said that he happened to mention Washington instead of New York. And he refuses to move away from the US border, refuses
to seek an alternative place to land.’

‘I know that,’ Fredrika said. ‘And I’m not saying he isn’t involved. I’m just saying that someone is so determined to point us in his direction that
we’re forgetting to look for anyone else. I get the same feeling about this new information, telling us that the pilot has instructions that weren’t mentioned in the original note found
in the toilet.’

Alex joined in eagerly: ‘Exactly. They’re reinforcing an already threatening message, keeping us on track so that we don’t imagine we can deviate from the original
instructions.’

Seconds passed, and Eden said nothing.

‘So what’s the aim of the person who sent the emails to the Germans?’

‘To remind us that we are facing an unbeatable opponent,’ Fredrika said.

‘Not even if we accede to the demands?’

‘The hijackers know that’s not going to happen.’

‘And why send the emails to the Germans and not to us?’ Dennis wondered.

‘I’ve asked myself the same question,’ Fredrika said. ‘First of all, I think there’s a German connection that we don’t yet understand. And secondly, if the
first message had been sent to us, the effect would have been far too dramatic, since the plane was actually due to take off from Arlanda. The sender merely wanted to ensure that when the hijacking
took place, the right information was already out there.’

A German connection. But what could it be?

The only link they had seen so far was a number of calls to and from Germany on Zakaria’s phone. But that was hardly a link at all, more of a vague coincidence.

Time had passed too quickly, Fredrika realised that now. There were so many thoughts and loose ends buzzing around in her head, so much that didn’t make sense. Why Tennyson Cottage in
particular? The USA must have several secret detention facilities, so why Tennyson Cottage? They had to find out. And soon.

And why Karim Sassi?
What was the connection between Karim and Zakaria? If they understood that, then soon the jigsaw would be complete.

As Fredrika sat there, lost in thought, Sebastian and Eden moved the meeting on.

‘What’s next?’ Sebastian asked.

‘We’ll wait another hour to hear from Erik Recht, the co-pilot,’ Dennis said, glancing at Alex. ‘Then we will need to consider other options, in consultation with our
American colleagues.’

‘What options?’ Alex said.

‘We have to consider, as a last resort, confronting Karim with what we know – explaining that he’s not going to be able to achieve his goal, and that therefore the best thing
would be to land the plane and hand himself over to the police.’

Was that really where they had ended up? With pleading as their only remaining option? Karim Sassi would get what he wanted. He would be the one who formed the dividing line between life and
death.

Unless Erik managed to take control of the plane.

But why hadn’t he been in touch?

Fredrika could see that Alex was suffering.

‘What’s our next step?’ he said.

Impatient, as so many times in the past.

‘We’ve spoken to virtually everyone during the course of the day,’ Dennis said. ‘
Everyone.
We’ve contacted the relatives of both Karim and Zakaria, and they
all seem equally bewildered. For example, not one conversation has suggested who else might be involved apart from Karim, and that worries me, because in my opinion the idea that he could have
acted alone is out of the question.’

‘There’s still one person we haven’t spoken to,’ Fredrika said. ‘Zakaria’s sister.’

‘Exactly. And we need to find her as a matter of urgency, so that we can at least eliminate her from our enquiries, if nothing else. We’re interviewing Zakaria’s girlfriend
immediately after this meeting; the last time we talked to her, we didn’t know about the sister.’