Hostage (37 page)

Alex didn’t respond; he couldn’t give a fuck where she’d bought the damned thing.

‘Your wife died about a year ago, didn’t she?’

There was a warmth in Eden’s voice that he hadn’t heard before, a warmth he hadn’t thought she possessed, to be honest. It disarmed him, made it possible to answer the
question.

‘Yes. Cancer.’

‘And now you’re afraid you’ll lose Erik as well?’

He couldn’t speak, and merely nodded instead.

‘There isn’t a cat in hell’s chance that I will allow that to happen,’ Eden said. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying? Erik will get through this.’

Alex stared at Eden, completely taken aback. The warmth was gone, her expression hard. Her voice and posture were utterly uncompromising.

‘Nor will I allow you, Erik’s father, to fall apart in the middle of all this. You can do that later if you have any reason to do so. Is that clear?’

He felt a flash of pure rage.

‘Crystal clear – do you think I’d abandon the attempt to save my own son?’

A faint glimmer appeared in Eden’s eyes.

‘No. Just checking.’

Alex wanted nothing more than to believe what Eden had said, but he couldn’t understand how it was going to work, how he was going to get Erik back. Alex thought back to when it had all
started. They had had a plan then. They would try to find out who was behind the hijacking, save the hostages in that way. But that was before they realised Karim Sassi was involved. Now it
didn’t make any difference what they found out; if they couldn’t get to Karim, both the battle and the war would be lost.

Fredrika and Sebastian appeared in the doorway. Eden waved them in, and Fredrika closed the door behind her.

Alex couldn’t understand why someone like Fredrika wanted to sit in some government office, rotting away. He watched her as she pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. Like everyone
else, becoming a parent had changed her. The lines around her eyes gave away the fact that she probably did more than half of the household chores at the end of the working day. He had somewhat
reluctantly accepted his children’s view that it was unreasonable to expect women to work full-time both outside and inside the home.

Fredrika lived with a man who was older than Alex. A man of retirement age, who was looking after two small children. Obviously, he wasn’t going to have as much energy as Fredrika; he
couldn’t be expected to provide as much help and support as she needed.

The differences between Eden and Fredrika were striking. There was so little on Eden’s desk, in terms of both personal and professional items, that it looked as if she had only just
started working there. Anyone who walked into her office would leave without having learned a single thing about her. He saw the glint of a wedding ring on her left hand, and suspected that things
were very different in her household. Whoever her husband might be, Alex thought he probably put in as much effort as Fredrika did in order to make things work.

‘We think that Adam Mortaji, who used to own Zakaria’s phone, knows or is somehow linked to his sister,’ Fredrika said before going on to explain what they had found out from
talking to Maria.

Alex listened, his anxiety as intense as a physical sensation.

They were talking too much, both to each other and to witnesses. None of this was going to help bring down the plane safely – they could do all this afterwards.

Eden was listening too as she looked at the list of calls Sebastian had given her.

‘I agree, the sister is interesting,’ she said. ‘But I find it difficult to see exactly how she fits in. Do we know anything about her relationship with Zakaria? Are they
close? Could she be involved in the hijacking in order to secure her brother’s release?’

Every case had its own phantom; Alex had realised that at an early stage in his career. There was always one individual who was impossible to pin down, who for some reason drifted around those
parts of an investigation that lay in the shadows.

‘We’ve been wondering about that too,’ Fredrika said.

‘Have we eliminated the girlfriend?’ Alex asked.

‘We did that a while ago,’ Eden replied. ‘We just don’t believe she’s capable of carrying out an operation like this. Admittedly, she might have a minor role to
play, but she couldn’t be the person behind it.’

‘This all comes back to Zakaria,’ Fredrika said. ‘Even if his sister is mixed up in the hijacking, I’m certain there’s someone else who’s involved, someone
Zakaria is protecting.’

‘Adam Mortaji, for example?’

‘Exactly.’

Alex thought for a moment.

‘So the idea that Zakaria is keeping quiet about information that could secure his release – couldn’t that also be an indication that he actually is involved? Even if
we’re now tending to think that he isn’t, do we have enough evidence for such a definitive conclusion?’

They had to get out of this Säpo framework within which every discussion so far had been conducted. Alex was sick of it. Villains were villains, whether they were bank robbers or
terrorists.

The difficulties with Säpo’s role were painfully obvious, and Alex thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t work there. He would have gone crazy.

Eden broke the silence that followed Alex’s question.

‘No,’ she said. ‘In spite of intense investigative work, we can’t be certain of anything at all.’

Right from the start, Alex had felt that Zakaria was the protagonist in this drama, in spite of the fact that it had begun before he was told that he would have to leave Sweden. So far, Alex
hadn’t wasted much energy on the issue of Zakaria’s guilt, but now he was starting to wonder.

What if Zakaria himself was involved in the hijacking?

Fredrika glanced at her watch. It was just after ten o’clock in the evening, but it might as well have been three in the afternoon. She was firing on all cylinders now,
and her body was not aware of either tiredness or hunger. They were on the home straight. In less than two hours, it would all be over. That thought brought her neither peace of mind nor relief, so
she pushed it firmly aside.

Dennis, the head of the investigation unit, knocked on the door and yanked it open. He looked surprised when he saw how many of them were sitting there.

‘I just wanted to let you know that Karim’s wife called a few minutes ago. She’ll be landing in Stockholm in an hour.’

‘She’s coming back from Copenhagen?’

‘Yes. She’s left the children with her parents.’

‘Tell her we might want to see her.’

‘Already done.’

He turned to leave, but hesitated.

‘Has anything new come up? Is that what you’re discussing?’ he said.

‘I’ll be with you in two minutes,’ Eden assured him.

He disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, closing the door behind him. Eden turned to Sebastian.

‘I want you to come with me to a meeting with the CIA shortly.’

‘First the CIA – then what?’ Alex asked.

‘Zakaria,’ Eden said. ‘Then Karim’s wife.’

Fredrika swallowed. She needed to update the government, but she had no idea what she was going to say.

At that moment, Eden’s phone rang and she answered: ‘Eden Lundell.’

Then she sat for a long time with the receiver pressed to her ear, saying nothing.

‘It’s unfortunate that we didn’t discuss this in advance,’ she eventually said in English. ‘We’ve asked Erik Recht to do something similar.’ She fell
silent once more.

Something similar?

Fredrika glanced at Alex, and saw that he was leaning forward in his chair, as if he was trying to hear more clearly.

‘Okay, so when was this?’ Eden said. ‘And you haven’t heard from him since then?’

She shook her head, her lips compressed into a straight line.

‘We haven’t heard from Erik either, and that worries me, to be honest.’

She listened again, then ended the call.

‘Bad news,’ she said in a tone of voice so sharp that Fredrika was grateful Eden had chosen a career within the police service rather than the medical profession.

‘What’s happened? Was that about Erik?’ Alex asked.

‘The Americans appear to have a whole truckload of surprises,’ Eden said. ‘Apparently, they have an operative from the Department of Defense on board, and he’s been in
touch with them. They’ve told him to get into the cockpit with the help of a stewardess, then to put Karim Sassi out of action and take over the plane.’

‘So he’s a pilot?’ Sebastian said.

‘Yes, although he usually flies a different kind of aircraft. The only problem is that they haven’t heard from him and were wondering if we’d heard anything. Which we
haven’t, of course.’

Alex sighed heavily. Fredrika could see that he was clutching his mobile, and wished with all her heart that Erik would call.

Ring, for God’s sake, ring.

‘They also wanted us to know that they’re sticking by their decision,’ Eden went on. ‘If we can’t get someone into the cockpit, they won’t let the plane enter
their airspace.’

An endless nightmare.

Fredrika went over the loose ends. There were a lot of them, and it was difficult to get an overview, but she had a feeling it was important not to forget about Zakaria’s sister.

‘Have you passed on what we know about Sofi to the Germans?’ she asked.

‘Yes. They didn’t seem to recognise her name, or the picture we got from her uncle. Although that doesn’t necessarily mean a great deal; she might use a different name in
Germany.

Germany and Sweden, the USA and Afghanistan.

The world had turned into a gigantic playing field where different teams met in order to challenge each other in a competition with rules that were rewritten as they went along, rules that could
usually be broken.

‘What is it we’re actually looking for?’ Fredrika said.

‘We’re looking for someone who knows both Zakaria and Tennyson Cottage, and who is sufficiently wound up to hijack an entire plane,’ Eden said.

She was right, Fredrika thought. Whoever had written the note that had been found in the toilet on the plane hadn’t mentioned Tennyson Cottage by chance. On the contrary – the person
in question thought it was important for Tennyson Cottage specifically to be shut down. Otherwise he or she could have written about the USA’s secret detention facilities in Afghanistan in
far more general terms.

Fredrika added another factor to her analysis.

Whoever had set all this in motion was not only personally concerned with Zakaria’s fate and the closure of Tennyson Cottage. He or she also knew Karim Sassi, a man who on paper
didn’t appear to have a single reason to do what he was doing right now. It was equally important to find that link in order to solve the case.

And then there were yesterday’s damned bomb threats. What was their significance, and who had made the calls? Fredrika sensed that it was important to find the answers to these questions.
She just didn’t understand why.

‘W
hen will you be home?’

Diana’s voice was far away; Alex had to make a real effort to hear what she was saying.

‘I don’t know. I’m staying here until I know how things pan out.’

Until I know whether Erik has died or not. Whether I’m the father of just one child from now on.

‘Would you like me to come over for a while?’

Alex pressed the receiver to his ear, remembering how they had started to see one another while Alex was investigating the death of Diana’s daughter. How sensitive and clandestine it had
all been. And how wonderful. So incredibly liberating.

It was still wonderful; he loved to hear her voice.

‘What, to the station?’

‘Yes.’

How many times had he been close to tears today? He blinked them away.

‘No, best not.’

‘Call me if you change your mind.’

Alex dropped the phone when they had finished talking, as if it were red hot. He definitely wouldn’t call her. There was absolutely no way that he could cope with seeing Diana until he
knew for certain whether things had gone well or extremely badly.

What wouldn’t he give to feel her arms around him right now?

He shook off the sense of yearning and went over to the analyst who was checking the lists of cars that had driven out of the city in the direction of Arlanda. He recognised Alex right away.

‘Something I can help you with?’

Alex explained what he wanted, trying not to sound impatient. He had no right to flare up. Not here, not now. Not as long as he was on Säpo’s territory. Eden had gone to her meeting
with the CIA, and Fredrika had returned to her desk. She liked sitting there, on a chair behind a desk with four sturdy legs. She had worked miracles from there on more than one occasion; please
God let her do the same again this time.

‘Hang on, I’ll check,’ the analyst said, leaving Alex alone at his desk.

Alex gazed out over the open-plan office. He didn’t really know what he’d expected, but not this. Bizarrely, he hadn’t even expected his colleagues from Säpo to be so
pleasant. So ordinary. He had thought they would somehow seem aware of how exciting everyone else imagined their everyday lives must be, but after spending a day in their company, Alex was
convinced. Working for Säpo wasn’t exciting, it was frustrating.

The analyst came back. Alex couldn’t work out whether or not he was a police officer, and he didn’t bother to ask. The experience of working with Fredrika had taught him that it
didn’t make any difference whether someone was a civilian or a police officer, as long as he or she had an aptitude for the profession. And that had nothing to do with background.

The other man’s eyes were shining.

‘Look at this, Alex.’

He passed over a sheet of paper.

‘These are the cars we’ve highlighted as possibly of interest. Do you recognise any of the names?’

He did. According to the records, one of the cars that had driven out of the city just hours before yesterday’s bomb threats belonged to Zakaria Khelifi.

This time, Eden had no intention of letting them leave the meeting room until they had given her what she wanted. She would keep her eyes fixed on them until she had all the
data she needed.