The Chosen (2 page)

Then they catch sight of her.

She is a freight train hurtling down a straight track; no one can stop her. Someone makes a futile attempt but misses her by a millimetre. She hurls herself through the open door of the building
and races up the stairs.

And that is where she stops.

She slams into another body and she falls down. She tries to get up but is pinned down by arms that think they are stronger than a mother under threat.

‘You can’t go in there right now. You just need to wait a little . . .’

But she will not wait. She doesn’t even understand how it happens, but she takes him down with a single blow to the crotch, gets to her feet and carries on running. She hears his voice
echoing through the stairwell:

‘She got away! Stop her!’

Soon she has reached the top of the stairs. Soon she is standing outside her own door. Soon she will find out what has happened.

That her husband and her children are dead.

That there is no one left.

She will stand in silence on the threshold of the room where they are lying, observe the frantic activity going on around them in an attempt to save whatever can be saved, in spite of the fact that it is too late. That is how all those present will
remember the scene.

They will remember her standing in silence in the doorway, with snow on her coat, and a violin case in her hand.

E
fraim Kiel had arrived with two tasks to accomplish. The first was to identify and recruit a new head of security for one of the Jewish associations in Stockholm, the Solomon Community.
The second task he preferred not to think about too much. Once both had been fulfilled, he would return home to Israel. Or move on elsewhere. He rarely knew how long his journeys would take.

It shouldn’t have been so difficult. It wasn’t
usually
all that difficult. How many times had he been sent off on a similar mission? Countless times. And how often had he
come up against problems like this? Not once.

The Solomon Community in Stockholm had made the decision to approach contacts in Jerusalem. A series of worrying incidents had occurred over the past year; the community had been the target
of a sabotage campaign. In several cases this had involved direct attacks, and the community’s school had also been targeted. No one knew why the situation had changed in Stockholm in
particular, and that was largely irrelevant. The important thing was to assess their current position and to see how security could be improved.

It had been decided that one part of the solution was to employ a head of security who was better qualified, and Efraim’s task was to find such a person.

He knew what he wanted.

A good leader.

In order for a team to work well, it was essential to have a clear, energetic leader, someone with integrity and the ability to prioritise, to make strategic decisions. But above all they must
have someone who would command respect. No qualities in the world could compensate for character traits that evoked contempt in those he or she was supposed to guide and co-ordinate.

So far they had found it hard to track down a person who possessed the necessary skills and attributes. There was always something missing, usually integrity and sufficient operational
experience. One applicant after another was discounted, and now time was running out for Efraim Kiel.

‘But we’ve got the perfect candidate – why can’t we employ him?’ The query came from the general secretary of the Solomon Community, who was sitting opposite Efraim.

‘Because he can’t take up the post until summer, which is too late. You can’t be without a head of security for six months. That’s out of the question.’

Efraim looked over at the window and saw the snow falling from the dark clouds, covering the ground with white powder. Stockholm in January was very different from Tel Aviv, where he had been
sitting outside drinking wine just a few days ago. The Swedes had their own customs and rituals, of course. Efraim had realised that they sometimes sat outdoors in the snow, grilling sausages and
sipping hot chocolate. Even allowing for the fact that he didn’t eat pork, and that it would never have occurred to him to mix milk and meat, he still thought it was a bizarre tradition.

‘We need to find someone else,’ he said, making an effort to maintain a diplomatic tone of voice. ‘Someone with a broad range of experience who can start right away.’

The general secretary shuffled through the pile of applications on the desk in front of him. There weren’t very many, but from a purely numerical point of view there should have been
enough to find someone. Efraim knew that the general secretary had had a lot to deal with over the past few months. Both the Solomon Community and the school had moved to new premises in
buildings directly opposite one another on Nybrogatan. They hadn’t moved far from their previous home on Artillerigatan, but it had still taken time and energy. Everyone needed a period of
peace and quiet.

If only their preferred candidate could take up the post earlier.

Efraim was open to a solution that involved a temporary appointment to fill the gap until the summer, but they still needed a solid incumbent. A community without a head of security was naked
and vulnerable.

He couldn’t explain why, but Efraim had the distinct feeling that this particular community wouldn’t be able to cope for very long. He reached for the pile of applications, in
spite of the fact that he knew them off by heart by now.

‘Actually, we had another application today,’ the general secretary said hesitantly. ‘Several, in fact. From a consultancy firm that specialises in strategic security
work.’

Efraim raised his eyebrows.

‘And?’

‘I’d say that only one of the candidates is worth looking at, but then again the application arrived too late, and I’m not really sure if the person in question is suitable for
the post.’

Efraim didn’t care whether the application was late or not, but the issue of suitability was more interesting.

‘Why is he unsuitable? Or she?’

‘He. And he’s not one of us.’

‘You mean he’s a gentile?’

‘Yes.’

A non-Jewish candidate for the post of head of security within a Jewish community.

‘Why are you mentioning his application if you think he’s no good?’

The general secretary didn’t answer; instead he got up and left the room. He returned with a sheaf of papers in his hand.

‘Because he has certain qualities and a level of experience that made me curious, especially in view of the fact that we may need to make a temporary appointment. I checked out his
background and found several important elements.’

He passed the documents to Efraim, and reeled off a brief summary.

‘An ex-cop, almost forty years old. Wife and two young kids. Lives in Spånga; they moved out of the city when he lost his job. Did his military service with the Marine Commandos, and
seems to have flirted with the idea of becoming an officer, as he stayed on for a while. Got into the Police Training Academy and made rapid progress in the police service. Promoted to the rank of
Detective Inspector at a very young age, and spent only a few years in the sticks before he was handpicked to join a special investigation unit in Stockholm. Led by a DCI by the name of Alex
Recht.’

Efraim looked up.

‘Alex Recht. Why do I recognise that name?’

‘Because he was in the papers back in the autumn when that plane was hijacked. His son was the co-pilot.’

‘That’s it.’

Efraim nodded to himself. The hijacking had also featured in the Israeli press. He focused on the documents in his hand once more. The information the general secretary had just given matched
what the man himself had said in his application. However, there was one piece of information missing.

‘You said he lost his job.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re still considering taking him on? Don’t you realise how much you have to fuck things up to lose your badge in a country like Sweden?’

Yes, the general secretary did realise.

‘However, I would say there are definitely extenuating circumstances in this case.’

‘Go on.’

The general secretary paused for effect.

‘They kicked him out after he shot the man who murdered his brother. And it happened in the line of duty.’

Efraim stared at the man opposite for a long time, then looked down at the application once more.

Peder Rydh. Could he be the person they needed?

The meeting was interrupted by the general secretary’s PA, who knocked on the door and walked straight in.

‘You have to come,’ she said. ‘Something terrible has happened. I’ve just had a call from the Solomon school to say that one of the pre-school teachers has been
shot.’

T
he call from the Solomon school in Östermalm didn’t make any sense at first. A pre-school teacher had been shot. In front of children and parents. Probably by a sniper who must have
been on a roof on the other side of the road.

Incomprehensible.

As far as DCI Alex Recht was concerned, the Solomon Community was a closed book. He knew it was one of Stockholm’s Jewish communities, but that was all. He couldn’t understand why
the case had landed on his desk. If the motive was anti-Semitism, then it should be investigated by the National Crime Unit’s specialist team who dealt with hate crimes. Maybe the National
Security Police, Säpo, should be involved. But why Alex’s team, which had only just been formed and wasn’t yet ready for a major challenge? And even more importantly, who the hell
would have a reason to shoot a pre-school teacher in broad daylight in front of a group of adults and kids?

‘Her new partner,’ Alex’s boss said, tossing a computer printout onto his desk. ‘This is no hate crime, although that’s how the internet editions of the papers are
reporting it. This is linked to serious organised crime, and if you look under a few stones I’m sure you’ll discover that the poor little schoolteacher who got shot in the back isn’t quite as pure as the snow she’s lying on.’

Alex picked up the printout, which was an extract from the serious crimes database.

‘This is her partner?’

‘Yep.’

The words in front of him were all too familiar. Drugs-related offences. Unlawful threats. Assaulting a police officer. Resisting arrest. Aggravated theft. Armed robbery. Procurement.

‘Anything on the teacher herself?’

‘Not a thing. She isn’t even in the suspects’ database.’

‘In which case she might be as pure as the driven snow after all; perhaps she just has particularly poor judgement. And bad luck.’

‘I’ll leave it to you to look into; find out if this is about her or her boyfriend. Or possibly both of them. And don’t hang about.’

Alex looked up.

‘Are we in a hurry?’

‘The Solomon Community is very energetic when it comes to security issues. If they don’t get answers from us fast enough, they’ll start their own investigation. Whatever
happens, they’re bound to demand major input from the police, and they’ll do it very publicly.’

Alex ran a hand over his chin.

‘Maybe not if we tell them that their teacher was living with someone who has a criminal record as long as your arm,’ he said. ‘Surely that will give the impression that
they’re recruiting potentially dangerous individuals, which won’t be very good for their image.’

His boss was already on his way out of the door.

‘Exactly. So make sure you get in touch with them as soon as possible. Go over there and have a chat. Take Fredrika with you.’

‘She’s not in this afternoon, but I’ll call her tonight and let her know what’s going on.’

His boss frowned.

‘That’s up to you, of course, but don’t you think you ought to call her now and ask her to come in? If she’s in town, that is.’

‘She is in town, and of course I can call her, but she probably won’t answer.’

‘Has something happened?’

‘She’s rehearsing with the orchestra.’

‘Orchestra? What does she play?’

‘The violin. And it makes her feel good, so I’m not going to interrupt her.’

After being away from the police for almost two years, Fredrika Bergman was back at last. Back at Kungsholmen. Back with Alex. Which was exactly where he had always thought she should be, so he
had no intention of quibbling over the odd rehearsal.

He would make a start on the investigation himself. The teacher had been living with a man who had been in a hell of a lot of trouble, so that was the obvious place to begin.

‘So why am I dealing with this?’ Alex asked. ‘Serious organised crime isn’t in my remit.’

‘The Östermalm police have asked for back-up in the initial stages,’ his boss explained. ‘I promised you’d give them a hand. If there’s a clear link to
organised crime, just pass the case on to the National Crime Unit.’

It sounded so simple. Just pass the case on through the system. God knows how easy that would actually be. Alex thought back to the unique team he had led previously, drifting like a jellyfish
between the National Crime Unit, the local forces and the Stockholm City police. On paper they had been part of the Stockholm City police, but in reality they had served several masters. Alex had
liked it that way, and if it was up to him, the new team would be no different.

‘I’ll send a car to bring in her partner if he’s at home,’ Alex said. ‘I want to hear what he has to say, see whether we can eliminate him as a suspect.’

‘I shouldn’t think he did it himself,’ his boss said. ‘It’s too crude.’

‘I agree. It sounds like revenge or some other crap. But we still have to talk to the guy. I’m sure he must know who shot her in the back.’

O
nly an hour had passed since Fredrika had left Police HQ in Kungsholmen to go to her rehearsal. One hour, but the job no longer existed. Nor did her family or her friends. Not within the vacuum
that was created when she settled her violin in the correct position between her chin and shoulder.