Marked for Life (20 page)

* * *

Lena Wikström was feeling uneasy. She fingered her gold necklace and bit her lip. She felt sick when she thought about Thomas Rydberg not being there any longer. That he had been murdered. In the docks. By whom?

She felt even more sick when she looked at her cell which still lay on the bed on top of the blanket. Two lamps on the dresser were turned on, and light fell on the three frames which were placed between them. Happy children's faces with midsummer garlands, a reminder of the last summer. Small imitation crystals hung from a white enamel ceiling light.

Who had phoned?

She let go of the necklace and opened one of the wardrobe doors, pulled out a suitcase and put it next to the phone on the bed.

She had never before been called on that number. She was the only one who initiated the communication. Nobody else. That was the arrangement. The others were only allowed to text messages, which were memorized by the recipient and deleted forever. Nobody ever phoned. That was how it worked. Now the rule had been broken.

By whom?

She hadn't recognized the number. Now she didn't dare touch the phone. Just let it lie there on the bed.

Lena unzipped the suitcase. Her instinct was to just run away. Of course it could have been a wrong number. A mistake. But she wasn't really convinced. The worry of being exposed was simply too great for her to just let the call pass.

She opened another wardrobe door and picked out three cardigans, a blouse and four tops. She didn't bother about underclothes, just packed what was on top in the drawer.

She could buy some new clothes wherever she went. She had often thought this day would come some time; she
knew
it would eventually come. Even so, she had no idea where to go. Where she could run to.

Suddenly the doorbell rang.

Her hands froze on the suitcase. She wasn't expecting a visitor.

Lena looked out through the bedroom window, which faced the front door. But she couldn't see anybody.

With a growing sense of unease, she tiptoed out from the bedroom, through the living room, past the bathroom and into the hall. She looked through the peephole in the door but her eye only met with darkness.

With both hands she unlocked the door, then the two extra locks and looked out through the narrow chink.

A woman was standing there outside.

“Hello, Lena,” said the woman and put her foot in the door.

* * *

“What have we got on Lena?” said Gunnar Öhrn.

They were all standing around the conference table. Everybody felt the tension in the room.

“She is 58 years old, unmarried, two adult children, her son lives in Skövde and her daughter in Stockholm. No criminal record,” Ola Söderström read out.

“So what do we do now?” said Mia.

“We must bring her in for questioning,” said Henrik.

“But so far all we have is a scatterbrained teenager who thinks he might have seen her in Juhlén's office that Sunday,” said Mia.

“I know, but for the moment that's the most important lead we've got,” said Henrik.

“Henrik's right. It's important that we follow up on this. Straightaway!”

Gunnar looked serious. He pointed a finger at himself.

“I'm going there. Henrik and Mia, you're coming with me.”

He left the room and Henrik and Mia were right behind him.

Ola was left on his own.

He knocked on the tabletop, absorbed the news that the investigation had at last gained some momentum, and went into his room to start up the computer. Then he took his lunchbox into the staff kitchen and put it in the fridge.

On his way back, he just happened to notice a bundle of papers in Gunnar Öhrn's in-box. He picked up the bundle to see what they were. They were conversation logs from a mobile operator. The number belonged to Thomas Rydberg.

Ola had a quick look at the lists. When he came to the page with outgoing text messages, he was astounded. Then he suddenly found himself in a hurry, ran across to the lift and frantically pressed the button to catch up with his colleagues.

* * *

Lena Wikström didn't have time to react when Jana Berzelius pushed her way in and closed the door behind her. It wasn't very light in the hall, but Jana could see some china figures and an embroidered cloth above a sideboard. A mirror with an ornamental frame. A frosted shade on the ceiling light.

Jana stood absolutely still on the mat in the hall. There was something familiar about the woman in front of her. She didn't know what.

“Who are you?” Lena said and riveted her eyes on Jana.

“My name is Jana Berzelius. I'm investigating the murder of Hans Juhlén.”

“Indeed? But what are you doing inside my home at this time of day?”

“I need some answers.”

Lena stared uncomprehendingly at the woman in high-heeled shoes and a dark trench coat.

“I can't help you.”

“Oh yes, you can,” said Jana and went straight into the kitchen.

“You can't just come in like this,” said Lena.

“Yes I can, and if you object then I'll issue a search warrant. Then I'll have every right to be here.”

Lena sighed.

“Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Hans Juhlén was murdered in his home,” Jana said.

“That's not a question.”

“No.”

Lena walked up to the front door and locked it. She carefully opened a drawer and slowly lifted out a gun, which she pushed inside the waistband of her trousers. Then she put her sweater over it and that nicely hid the bulge. Then she went into the kitchen with a forced smile on her lips.

“So, what's the question?” Lena said.

“Hans Juhlén was murdered at approximately 7:00 p.m. When the police went through his computer they found some identification numbers for shipping containers. The combinations were deleted from the computer at half past six. So he couldn't have done that himself. Was it you?”

Lena was at a loss for what to say. She suddenly felt pressure over her chest.

Jana went on: “I have an important reason to find out what was in those containers.”

“I'm sorry, but I must ask you to leave.”

“I just want to know.”

“You will leave my home.”

Jana remained standing by the table while Lena slowly moved her hand behind her back, toward the gun.

“I'll stay until I get an answer,” said Jana. She had seen Lena's hand had started to move behind her back and made herself ready for what might come next.

The very moment Lena took the gun up from her waistband, Jana threw herself forward, hit Lena against her kidneys with the side of her hand, then kneed her in the stomach. Lena lost her grip on the gun and groaned from shock as well as the dreadful pain.

Jana checked the gun, which was loaded, cocked the trigger and crouched down in front of Lena. She could see something glimmer around Lena's neck.

Something goldish.

The floor rocked when she saw what it was. Everything started swimming before her eyes, and she heard a roaring in her ears. Her temples ached and her pulse was so high, it hurt.

A necklace.

With a name.

Mama.

* * *

The elevator descended extremely slowly. At least it felt like it did.

Ola Söderström stared at the display as the elevator passed each floor. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, he ran out as fast as he could into the garage to find his colleagues. He heard a car door slam and walked rapidly toward the sound. He heard another door and stretched to see over the tops of the parked cars.

Then he saw Gunnar Öhrn's silhouette disappear into a car and the sound of yet another car door echoed in the garage.

“Stop!” shouted Ola.

The red brake lights lit up in front of him.

Gunnar opened the door and stuck his head out.

“What's the matter?”

Ola caught up with the car, rested one arm on the door and tried to get his breath back.

“We've...got...hold...of the call logs,” he said.

He gave Gunnar the lists.

Mia and Henrik looked at each other.

“Thomas Rydberg's...cell. Check page eight. His...texts.”

Ola leaned against the door and took three deep breaths while Gunnar found the right page. On line two there was a text that was extremely strange.
Del.Tues.1
.

“Has Thomas sent this?” he said.

Ola nodded briefly.

“To whom?”

“The phone is registered with the Migration Board.”

“Hans Juhlén?”

“Yes, or perhaps his secretary Lena?” said Ola.

Gunnar nodded slowly, then closed his car door and drove off in a great hurry.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR

IT SEEMED LIKE
Lena Wikström was still in pain. She pressed her right hand against her kidney and glared at Jana Berzelius who was standing in front of her with the loaded gun. She had stood there a long time, her eyes just staring.

“The necklace,” Jana whispered.

She was suddenly hit by the incredible force of a memory. With a girl, a boy and a woman.
The woman had a gun and she and the boy
threw themselves backward. He got a firm hold of the woman's arm and twisted it to make her drop the gun. A shot went off. The sound echoed between the trees.

The woman shrieked with pain when the boy forced her arm back.

The girl got hold of the gun and immediately pointed it at the woman. Then she saw the boy sink down on the grass. He had been hit.

And the girl
...was me.

It was me!

Jana felt dizzy and had to hold on to the kitchen table to support herself.

“Hades,” she said slowly.

Lena gasped.

“You! You killed him!” said Jana. “I saw it. You killed him right in front of my eyes!”

Lena was silent, her eyes turned into narrow slits and she examined Jana from top to toe.

“Who are you?” she then said.

Jana's hands started to shake. The gun vibrated. She held it in both hands to keep it still, to keep her aim on Lena.

“Who are you?” Lena repeated. “You can't be the person I think you are.”

“Who do you think I am?”

“Ker?”

Jana nodded.

“It can't be true...” said Lena. “It can't be.”

“You killed him!”

“He isn't dead. Who has said he's dead?”

“But I saw it—”

“Don't believe everything you see,” Lena cut her off.

“You know what's inside those containers, don't you?” Jana said slowly.

“Yes. You ought to know too,” said Lena.

“Tell me!” said Jana.

“You don't know? Can't you remember?”

“Tell me what was in them!” Jana insisted.

Lena got up with some effort from the floor, sighed heavily and sat with her back against the kitchen cupboards.

“Nothing remarkable...”

Lena winced with pain, pulled up her sweater and looked at the red mark that Jana's blow had left.

“Go on!” Jana said.

“About what?”

“What was in them? Narcotics?”

“Narcotics?” said Lena. She looked with surprise at Jana and smiled.

“Yes, exactly,” she said and nodded. “That's right, narcotics. We...”

“Which we! Tell me!”

“Pah, there isn't so much to tell...it started mainly by chance, one could say, but then it got more...organized.”

“Do you know why I have a name carved on my neck?”

Lena didn't answer.

“Tell me!”

Jana took a step forward and pointed the gun right at Lena's head. Lena played it cool and shrugged her shoulders. “It was his idea. Not mine. I had nothing to do with it. I just...helped a little.”

“Who is
he
? Tell me!” screamed Jana.

“Never,” said Lena.

“Tell me!”

“No! Never, never, never!”

Jana held the gun in a new grasp. “And Thomas Rydberg, what did he do?” she said.

“He knew when the containers were on their way. Then he informed me. First by calling, later by sending me a message. Stupid, really.”

Lena took a deep breath.

“But he paid well,” she said.

“Who? Thomas? Who paid well?”

Jana suddenly heard the sound of a car braking.

“Are you expecting anybody?”

Lena shook her head.

“Get up. Be quick! Up!” Jana ordered when she heard car doors slamming. She held the gun against the back of Lena's head and pushed her toward the window.

“Who is it?”

“The police!”

“The police?” Jana thought.
What are they doing here? What do they know?

She bit her lip. They must immediately leave the house. But what should she do with Lena? She smothered a vengeful impulse to kill her. Killing Lena was of course absurd. Lena was an important source and for the moment she was the only one who could say who was responsible for everything that had happened and why. But what should she do? Tie her up? Leave her be? Knock her unconscious?

Jana swore to herself. She put her hand into her pocket and pulled out Thomas Rydberg's phone and placed it in front of Lena.

“Using texts these days isn't stupid at all,” she said. “In fact it was extremely well done. Do you know what this is? It's Thomas Rydberg's cell.”

“Why have you got it?”

“That doesn't matter, but now I know how to get rid of it.”

Jana nodded to Lena.

“Move!”

Footsteps could be heard outside the door.

Jana held the gun pointed at the back of Lena's head and pushed her toward the bedroom.

When she saw the open suitcase on the bed, she told Lena to sit down next to it. She wiped the mobile and pressed Lena's fingers on it.

“What are you doing? What do you think you're doing!?”

She put the mobile in the suitcase.

“The police are here. You will confess everything to them. That it was you who was behind the murder of Hans Juhlén and Thomas Rydberg.”

“You're crazy. Never.”

“I see you've got children. Grandchildren too. I shall kill them, one for each day that passes, until you confess.”

“You can't do this!”

“Oh yes, I can. And you know I can.”

“It won't end here. It will never end. Never!”

“Yes, it will.”

“You'll get caught for this! I'll make sure you're caught, Jana, just so you know!”

“You know what? I don't think anybody will suspect a prosecutor. And as for that, you and I will meet in court. In about two weeks I'll charge you for murder. Murder gives the highest penalty in Sweden. So, yes, it will end here. It's over. For you,
Lena
.”

When there was a ring on the door, Jana left the bedroom.

She silently unlocked the back door. The garden was embedded in a darkness that embraced her when she stepped out.