The Chosen (38 page)

After a little more digging he discovered that Samson Security AB was registered at a post box address in Stockholm. Mona Samson, however, was not registered anywhere; the apartment in
which she was living was presumably a sublet.

Alex thought things over. Regardless of whether or not Mona Samson could provide Saul Goldmann with an alibi, they must know one another. Goldmann had given the police both her address and
telephone number, and claimed they had had a business meeting, which had apparently taken place at her private residence. Unless of course her office was there too, but why would an overseas
company that had invested in a branch in another country go for such an unprofessional set-up?

After a certain amount of hesitation, he called Saul Goldmann. Saul sounded tired when he answered, almost apathetic.

It was now four days since his son had been found shot dead out on Lovön, barefoot in the snow with a paper bag over his head. That could drive any parent crazy. Or leave them feeling tired
and apathetic.

‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ Alex began. ‘But we’re having problems getting in touch with Mona Samson. Do you know how we can contact her?’

‘I gave her details to another officer last week. I thought you’d already spoken to her?’

His tone was sharper now, as if Alex’s question worried him. Just as he had reacted during the interview.

‘We have, but I’d like to get in touch with her again, and I’m getting nowhere. Do you happen to know whether Samson Security has an office in the city? You gave us the address
of her private apartment, and she’s not there.’

He was risking everything on one throw of the dice, hoping his bluff would work.

It did.

‘Oh, right, yes. We met in her apartment instead of her office. I happened to be nearby, so it was easier. Well, I say I happened to be nearby, but we did have an appointment. However, I had another meeting beforehand. In Kungsholmen.’

Saul Goldmann was wobbling. Gabbling.

Alex was surprised; Saul Goldmann had not given the impression that he was a person who was likely to do either of those things.

So what was he hiding?

‘Saul,’ Alex said, choosing every word with care. ‘If there’s something you’d like to tell me, something you think could improve our chances of finding the person
who killed Abraham and Simon, then please talk to me. Because time is running out for another child. We still haven’t found Polly Eisenberg. And I’m afraid she will suffer the same fate
as Abraham and Simon unless we track her down very soon.’

Saul’s silence was unbearable.

Say something. For fuck
’
s sake, say something.

‘I’ve told you everything I know. I have nothing to add.’

‘Okay, if you insist. But perhaps you remember where Mona Samson’s office is located?’

‘Of course. Samson Security has a rented office on Torsgatan.’

T
he landscape around Jerusalem was just as dramatic as the history of the city.

They were driving south along the main road towards Tel Aviv. Fredrika was in the back of a cab reading through her notes. The kibbutz she was heading for was called Jeich Tikvha, and according
to the map lay not far from Netanya, a town thirty kilometres to the north of Tel Aviv. The other kibbutz had closed down some years ago.

Fredrika was still shocked at the way the previous evening had ended. She had left the Old City alone via the Lion Gate, then she had followed the wall until she reached the Damascus Gate. She
hadn’t heard from Isak, nor had she expected to. Her suitcase was in the boot of the cab, and she wanted nothing more than to go home. Leave Israel and forget that she had ever been
there.

Alex had called her and given her yet another job. She hoped she would have time, but had to admit to herself that her desire to visit an Israeli security firm was minimal. Anything she did
from now on lacked legitimacy since the Israeli police had disowned her, and she didn’t think Israel was a very good country in which to play at being a police officer.

The hotel had helped her to book a cab; it was expensive but practical. The driver said something she didn’t hear, and pointed through the windscreen.

‘Sorry?’

‘Rain,’ the driver said in English. ‘It’s going to rain.’

Dark clouds had come rolling in over the coast and were moving east. The first heavy drops began to fall as they turned off for Netanya.

Fredrika was tired. The peace and quiet of the hotel had allayed the fear she had felt when she finally got back, but not the paranoia. She had the sense that someone was watching her, and
before she went to bed she checked several times to make sure the door was locked. She had called Spencer to say goodnight, but that had been a mistake. He knew her so well that after just a few
words he could tell that something had happened.

‘I wish I was there with you,’ he had said. ‘Hurry home.’

He didn’t need to ask more than once; she had absolutely no desire to stay.

‘Here we are,’ the driver said. He pulled up; forest on one side of the road, a high fence on the other. Up ahead she could see an entrance with a guard post.

‘Jeich Tikvha,’ the driver said, pointing. ‘It means “There is hope” – did you know that?’

She didn’t, but took some consolation from the words. She certainly needed hope.

He dropped her off and drove on. Fredrika picked up her case and walked over to the guard. What the hell was she doing here?

This whole thing was a lunatic project in a country which was one of the most challenging in the entire world in terms of security. It would have been much easier with Isak by her side.

The rain was falling heavily now, and she increased her speed. The guard stared at her with suspicion.

‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I’d like to speak to the Goldmann and Eisenberg families, if they’re available. It’s about their sons.’

Being on unfamiliar ground with a task that was far from clear wasn’t ideal. Fredrika realised this when she was shown into David and Gali Eisenberg’s house. The place where Gideon
Eisenberg had grown up.

‘I’m sorry to turn up unannounced and at such an early hour,’ she said once they were seated at the kitchen table. ‘But we really need your help with our
investigation.’

It was nine o’clock; she had left Jerusalem at seven thirty.

‘Is this about Simon and Polly?’ Gali asked

She looked as if she were on the verge of tears. Fredrika shuffled uncomfortably; this was an impossible situation.

‘It is. And I have to begin by saying that you are under no obligation to talk to me. I am with the Swedish police, and I don’t have the authority to conduct an investigation in
Israel. But I was here on another matter, and wanted to take the opportunity to meet you.’

‘We’re happy to help the police in any way we can,’ David assured her.

They seemed like decent people. Calm and collected. And so sad.

‘Do you have other children apart from Gideon?’

‘A daughter,’ Gali said. ‘She lives in Haifa.’

Not too far away; that must be some consolation when their son had moved all the way to Stockholm.

The house was small and simply furnished. If Fredrika understood correctly, everything on a kibbutz was owned collectively. Therefore, the house was not theirs, but had been allocated to them as a place to live. The very thought of not owning her
home, or at least having a contract with the landlord, made Fredrika’s head spin.

She began by asking a question to which she already knew the answer.

‘How long is it since Gideon left Israel?’

Gali sighed.

‘It’s exactly ten years.’

‘Do you remember what motivated the move to Stockholm? I understand they left at the same time as the Goldmann family.’

There was no mistaking the reaction. As soon as Fredrika mentioned the name Goldmann, both Gali and David stiffened.

‘It was just a coincidence really,’ David said. ‘The fact that they moved at the same time.’

‘It all happened so fast,’ Gali said. ‘One day the decision was made, and we didn’t understand it at all. They left just a few weeks after Simon was born.’

‘So something must have happened, something that meant they didn’t want to go on living here,’ Fredrika said.

‘Gideon always found it very difficult to talk about his job,’ David said, with some hesitation. ‘And we respected that. As far as we know, the decision had something to do
with his work, but we never found out what happened.’

Gali shook her head sorrowfully.

‘They just disappeared. We’ve been over to visit them many times, of course, and they’ve been here, but things just aren’t the same.’

‘You said Gideon found it difficult to talk about his job,’ Fredrika said, turning to David. ‘What did you mean by that?’

‘It seemed as if everything he was involved in was top secret.’

‘You mean at the firm where he worked?’

David looked confused.

‘Firm? Gideon didn’t work for a firm. He was employed by the military until he moved. Just like the others.’

A thought flitted through her mind. The others?

David straightened up.

‘If you want any more information, you need to ask Gideon,’ he said. ‘He’s in the best position to know what he can and can’t reveal about his past.’

He realised he had said too much, and Fredrika knew she wouldn’t get any more out of him.

She tried a different tack.

‘Of course. We’ve already spoken to Gideon, and will be doing so again. A moment ago you said “just like the others”. That he was employed by the military just like the
others. I assume you were referring to Saul and Daphne Goldmann?’

They’d said they stayed on in the army for a year or so after their military service, hadn’t they? A year or so. But if Fredrika was right, it now seemed that they had stayed on
until they left Israel.

‘That’s right,’ David said.

He had looked relieved when Fredrika started talking; he didn’t need to feel as if he were betraying his son.

‘And Efraim Kiel,’ Gali said.

‘Efraim Kiel?’

‘Gideon, Saul, Daphne and Efraim did their military service together, then pursued a career in the army. Efraim was the only one who stayed in Israel.’

‘That’s probably because he was the most successful,’ David said with a melancholy smile. ‘He was always a winner, always the leader.’

‘Did he also grow up on this kibbutz?’

‘No, his parents lived in Netanya, but the boys went to junior and high school together.’

One thread after another was woven together, the pattern growing clearer all the time.

Efraim Kiel had come up yet again. Efraim Kiel, who didn’t have an alibi for the murder of the two boys. The man Alex couldn’t track down.

And once again it was apparent that Simon and Abraham’s parents had lied. None of them had revealed that they had gone to school with Efraim, and spent time in the army together; they
had said only that they did their military service with him.

As an investigator, Fredrika had to ask herself why. She also wondered if they were lying for reasons relevant to the inquiry, or because of something completely different. The sense of chasing
lost souls became stronger the more she dug into the past. Was it because their work had been top secret?

‘Do Saul Goldmann’s parents live nearby? I’d really like to speak to them too.’

A shadow passed across the kitchen table. The rain hammered against the window pane, and the Swedish cold felt like a distant memory. In Israel it was like the Swedish summer.

‘Unfortunately they are no longer with us,’ Gali said. She looked sad, but Fredrika could see something else in her eyes, something indefinable that had nothing to do with
sorrow.

Something that looked a lot like relief, in fact.

‘Were they very old?’ she asked.

David cleared his throat.

‘Aida died in a car accident last year. And Avital . . . Avital took his own life.’

Silence fell in the small kitchen.

Avital?
It was a coincidence, of course. The Lion had called himself Avital Greenburg. But Saul’s father was Avital Goldmann.

‘It must have been very difficult for Saul, losing both his parents when he’s so young himself,’ Fredrika said. Saul was only forty-five; most people don’t expect to lose
their parents until much later in life.

‘I shouldn’t think he misses them,’ David said, getting up from the table. ‘He didn’t even come to his mother’s funeral.’

Gali stroked his back as he passed her on his way to the sink.

‘David, we know nothing about all that,’ she said.

‘If he wasn’t close to them in the past, perhaps he’s thinking about them now that he’s lost his own son,’ Fredrika said, trying to smooth things over.

David switched on the coffee machine, and it came to life with a series of noises. The atmosphere in the kitchen was oppressive, as if the air was full of unspoken words.

‘I shouldn’t think Saul cares about the boy either,’ he said.

At that Gali slammed her fist down on the table.

‘I just said we know nothing about all that!’

‘Nonsense!’ David said, turning to face the two women. ‘I’m sure everyone knows the situation.’

What situation?

‘May I ask what you’re talking about?’ Fredrika said.

‘The fact that Abraham wasn’t Saul’s son.’

‘David!’

‘The boy is dead, Gali. What does it matter?’

Gali began to cry, silent, heart-rending tears.

David softened.

‘What are you saying?’ Fredrika said, looking at him.

David couldn’t meet her eye.

‘Well, that’s the rumour. That Saul had had a vasectomy. One of our neighbours who’s a doctor arranged for him to have it done in Haifa, and then along comes Daphne a few years
later and announces that she’s pregnant.’

‘But why didn’t Saul want children?’

Fredrika didn’t understand. He must have been so young when he made the decision not to be a parent.

David didn’t respond.

Fredrika gently placed a hand on Gali’s arm.

‘Why didn’t Saul want children?’ she repeated.