"Where is it, then?"
"In my bag. It's at the bottom, underneath my sanitary towels."
Beata winced, just as Annika had gambled she would. Beata was squeamish about her female functions. She was really rolling the dice.
"It's a beautiful little parcel," Annika said. "If you get the bag, I'll give you your Christmas gift."
Beata didn't buy that, Annika immediately saw.
"Don't try anything," she said menacingly and got to her feet.
Annika sighed. "I'm not the one walking around with dynamite in my bag. There's nothing in that bag except for a pad, some pens, a packet of sanitary towels, and a present for you. Get it and see for yourself!"
Annika held her breath; she was taking a big risk. Beata hesitated for a moment.
"I don't want to rummage through your bag," she said.
Annika took a deep breath. "What a pity. The present would have looked nice on you."
That made Beata's mind up. She put the battery and the fuse on the floor and picked up the end of the rope tied around Annika's neck.
"If you try anything, I'll pull."
Annika put her hands in the air and smiled. Beata walked backwards to the place where the bag had landed more than sixteen hours ago. She picked up both the handles with one hand, holding the rope in the other. She slowly walked up to Annika.
"I'll be standing here all the time," she said and dropped the bag in Annika's lap.
Annika's heart was pounding so hard her head was echoing. Her whole body was shaking; this was her only chance. She smiled up at Beata, hoping her pulse wasn't visible on her temples. Then she looked down at Beata's legs. She was still holding on to the handles of the bag. Slowly, she put her hand into the bag and found the parcel right away, the little box with the garnet brooch for Anne Snapphane. She quickly started feeling among the things inside the bag.
"What are you doing?" Beata said, snatching the bag away from her.
"I'm sorry," Annika said, barely making out her own voice for the thundering noise of her beating heart. "I can't find it. Let me try again."
Beata hesitated for several seconds. Annika's brain had stopped working. She mustn't plead because that would be the end of it. She had to play on Beata's curiosity.
"I don't want to tell you what it is beforehand; that would spoil the surprise. But I think you'll like it," Annika said.
The woman held out the bag once more, and Annika took a deep breath. She firmly pushed her arm down, felt the parcel, and right next to it the phone. Dear God, she thought, please let the hands-free kit be connected! Her upper lip was covered in sweat. The battery side was turned up, good, or Beata might see the green display light up. She'd done this a thousand times without giving it a thought. She fumbled for the different buttons, found the big oval one, and pressed it lightly. Then she moved her finger an inch down to the right, found the number one button, pressed that, and moved her finger back to the big one for a third push.
"There we are. I've got it," Annika said, moving her hand to the package nearby. Her arm was shaking when she lifted it out, but Beata didn't notice. All the Bomber saw was the gold wrapping paper and the blue ribbon gleaming in the harsh light. There was no sound from the bag. The hands-free kit was connected. Beata backed away and put the bag next to the dynamite box. Annika desperately needed air and forced herself to soundlessly take deep, gulping breaths. "Menu-1-Menu," she had pressed; "Phone book-Newsdesk-Dial."
"Can I open it now?" Beata said, full of expectation.
Annika couldn't speak. She just nodded.
* * *
Jansson had sent off the last page to the printers. He was always a little tired the first night of his shift, but now he felt totally paralyzed. He usually had breakfast in the cafeteria, a cheese roll and big mug of tea, but he wouldn't have any today. He'd just stood up and was putting on his jacket when his phone rang. Jansson groaned loudly and considered not even checking the display to see who it was. I'd better, he thought, it could be the printers. Sometimes the color files weren't transferred properly and the yellow plate would be missing. He reached out for the phone and saw the familiar number. At the same moment, every single hair on his body stood on end.
"It's Annika!" he bellowed. "Annika is phoning on my extension!"
Anders Schyman, Patrik, Berit, and Janet Ullberg all turned toward him from where they were standing at the picture desk.
"There's a call from Annika's cellphone!" he roared. He was staring wide-eyed at his telephone.
"Then pick it up, for God's sake, pick it up!" Schyman shouted back and started running across the floor.
Jansson took a deep breath and picked up the phone.
"Annika! Annika, is that you?"
There was nothing but a crackle and hum.
"Hello! Annika!"
The others had reached Jansson's desk and were standing around him.
"Hello? Hello! Are you there?"
"Give it to me," Schyman said.
Jansson handed the phone to the editor. Schyman put the receiver to his ear and plugged the other with a finger. He heard static and buzzing, and a rising and falling noise which could be voices.
"She must be alive," he whispered, handing the phone back to Jansson. "Don't hang up." He walked into his office and phoned the police.
* * *
"It's beautiful! Absolutely beautiful."
Beata really sounded overwhelmed. Annika felt a renewed energy.
"It's old, almost antique," she said. "Real garnets and gold on top of silver. It's the kind of thing I would like to have myself. Those are the best gifts, don't you think?"
The woman didn't reply, just stared at the brooch.
"I've always been fond of jewelry," Annika said. "When I was a little girl, I saved up money for years to buy a heart of white gold with a wreath of diamonds. I had seen it in a catalog from the jeweler's shop in town, one of those mailings they do before Christmas. When I finally had saved enough to buy it, I'd outgrown it all and bought a set of skis instead…"
"Thank you so much," the Bomber said in a hushed voice.
"My pleasure," Annika said. "My grandmother had a similar brooch, maybe that's why I decided on it."
Beata undid the top buttons of her coat and pinned the brooch to her sweater.
* * *
"This could be the breakthrough we need," the cop on the phone told Schyman. "You can hang up now; the call has gone through. We'll fix the rest together with the service provider now."
"What are you going to do?" Schyman asked.
"We'll contact the central operations office of the service provider, Comviq, out in Kista. They may be able to trace the call."
"Can I come with you?" Schyman quickly asked.
The policeman wavered only briefly. "I don't see why not," he said.
Schyman hurried back to the newsroom.
"The police are tracing the call, so you can hang up now," he called out, putting his coat on.
"Do you think it'll do any harm if we keep listening?" asked Berit, who was now sitting with the phone against her ear.
"I don't know. I'll call if that's the case. Don't anyone leave. I need you all to stay right here."
He took the stairs down to the entrance and noticed his legs were shaking from weariness. It wouldn't be a good idea to drive now, he thought, and ran over to the taxi stand.
It was still dark outside and the road out to Kista was deserted. They drove fast and met only a few other cars along the way, the taxi driver saluting those from his own firm with his left hand. They reached Borgarfjordsgatan, and while Schyman was paying the taxi with his company card, a car drove up next to them and stopped. A man got out and came over to Schyman. He asked Schyman who he was and introduced himself as a police officer.
"If we're lucky we might be able to track her down this way," the policeman said.
His face was white with exhaustion and there was a rigid line round his mouth. Suddenly Anders Schyman thought he knew who this man must be.
"Do you know Annika?" the editor asked.
The policeman drew a deep breath and looked askance at Schyman.
"Sort of," he said.
At that moment, a sleepy security guard appeared and let them into the building housing the head offices of both Comviq and Tele2. He led them through a series of long passages and corridors until they eventually stepped into a room filled by enormous TV screens. Anders Schyman gave a whistle.
"Looks like in an American spy movie, doesn't it?" a man approaching them said.
The editor nodded and said hello to the man. "Or the control room at a nuclear power station," Schyman said.
"I'm a systems technician here. Welcome. Please come this way," the man said and showed them to the center of the room.
Anders Schyman slowly followed the cop and the technician. The room was packed with computers; projectors made the walls serve as gigantic computer screens.
"From here we control the entire Comviq network," the technician began. "There are two of us working the night shift. The search you want to do is a very simple one. I only had to execute one single command from my terminal and the search is underway."
He indicated his workstation. Anders Schyman had no idea what he was looking at.
"It'll take up to fifteen minutes, even though I limited the search to start at 5 A.M. It's been going about ten minutes now. Let's have a look and see if we've got anything…"
He turned to a computer and clicked on the keyboard.
"Nope, nothing yet," he said.
"Fifteen minutes, isn't that very long?" Anders Schyman said, noticing how dry his mouth was.
The technician regarded him steadily. "Fifteen minutes is quick. It's Christmas Eve morning, and there's very little traffic right now. That's why I think the search will be fast."
As he said that, a row of data appeared on the screen. He turned his back to Schyman and the cop and sat on his chair. He clattered away on his keyboard for a couple of minutes, then gave a sigh. "I can't find it. Are you sure the call came from her cellphone?"
Schyman's pulse quickened. They couldn't screw it up. He felt confusion mount within him. Did these people even know what had happened? Did they know how important it was?
"Our night editor would know her number in his sleep. They were still sitting around listening to the static from her phone when I left the newspaper," he said and licked his lips.
"Ah, that explains it," the technician said and executed another command. The data disappeared from the screen and it went black.
"All we can do now is wait," he said and turned to face Schyman and the policeman again.
"What do you mean?" Schyman queried, hearing himself sound upset.
"If the call is still going on, we haven't received any information yet. The data is stored internally in the phone for thirty minutes," he said and got up from the chair. "After thirty minutes, the telephone creates a bill, which it then sends here to us. Among that data, we can find A numbers and B numbers, base station and cell."
Anders Schyman looked at the flickering screens and felt ever more confused. Exhaustion was pounding his brain; he felt he was in the middle of a surreal nightmare.
"Please explain that," the cop asked.
"According to your information, the call from Annika Bengtzon reached the newsdesk of
Kvällspressen
just after 6 A.M., right? If the line hasn't been broken, the first data pertaining to the call will reach us just after six thirty, which is soon."
"I don't understand," Schyman said. "How can you tell where she is from her cellphone?"
"This is how it works," the technician said obligingly. "Cellphones work just like radio transmitters and receivers. The signals are transmitted via a number of base stations, that is telephone masts, up and down the country. Each base station has various cells that pick up signals from different places in different directions. All cellphones that are switched on connect with the exchange every four hours. We ran the first search on Annika Bengtzon's telephone number already last night."
"You did?" Schyman said with surprise. "Can you do that on anyone, just like that?"
"Of course not," the technician replied calmly. "Any kind of search like this one has to be authorized by a court order."
He walked over to another screen and typed something on the keyboard. Then he went to a printer and waited for the printout.
"Anyway, the last call from Annika's phone, apart from the ongoing one, was connected at 13:09 yesterday afternoon," he said, studying the sheet. "It was for the daycare center on 38B Scheelegatan in Kungsholmen."
