She stares at the floor where he was lying and sees the bullet-holes from the two final shots, then realises why the body had been rolled aside.
The gunman took the bullets with him.
No one does that, Janus mutters.
He used a semiautomatic pistol with a silencer... Four shots fired, two of which were clearly lethal, she says.
A heavyset man is going around the dark-toned furniture in the living room, spraying luminol over the fabric as another forensics officer puts an armchair back into place over the depressions in the rug.
Get ready to pack up, everyone, Janus shouts, clapping his hands. Were cleaning the house in ten minutes, and the glazier and painter will be here within an hour.
The heavyset man removes the forensic teams floor-tiles behind them as they leave. As soon as they exit the door a team enters the house to clean it.
The killer not only took the spent cartridges with him, but also dug the bullets out of the floor and walls while the alarm was howling and the police were on their way. Not even the very best hit men do that.
Theyre dealing with a perfectly executed murder, yet he left a witness. He could hardly have failed to notice someone watching him at the crime scene.
Ill go and talk to the witness, Saga says. The woman must be involved somehow.
You know weve already got our experts there, Janus says.
I need to ask my own questions, Saga replies, and sets off towards her motorbike.
9
The bomb-shelter beneath Katarinaberget in Stockholm was the biggest nuclear shelter in the world when it was built at the start of the Cold War. Today the whole place, other than the section that used to house the backup generators and ventilation units, is used as a parking garage.
The machine house is a separate building, blasted into the bedrock alongside the actual shelter.
These days it is used by the Security Police.
Its the site of the secret prison known as the Spinnhuset. The most highly classified interrogations take place deep in the bowels of the old ice pools.
Its still early in the morning when Saga passes the Slussen junction on her motorcycle. Her sweaty leather bodysuit feels cold against her breasts. She drives in through the arched entrance next to the petrol station, and heads down into the garage. The shift in acoustics amplifies the sound of the engine.
Rubbish has gathered beneath the peeling yellow railings, and loose cables hang from the loudspeakers.
The panels covering the wide groove in the floor rumble beneath the tyres as Saga passes the shelters immense sliding doors, designed to protect against a pressure wave.
As she heads down the concrete ramp, her mind ponders the unsolved riddle.
Why would the woman activate the security alarm and then stay at the crime scene if she was involved in the murder?
Why would the killer leave a witness if she wasnt involved in the murder?
The Security Police see her as a security risk whether she was involved or just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Saga brakes carefully as she circles deeper and deeper inside the parking garage.
The womans identity has been verified. Her name is Sofia Stefansson, and she appears to work part-time as a prostitute, though that hasnt been confirmed.
So far theyre relying on what she said, and the very limited documentation theyve found in her flat.
Saga cant rule out the possibility that Sofia has been recruited by a terrorist organisation.
Maybe she was the bait; maybe she filmed what happened in bed in order to blackmail the Foreign Minister?
But in that case, why was he killed?
Saga lets go of the brakes and swings into the lowest level.
She drives past a few parked cars, tyres squealing. Red dust swirls up around the motorcycle. She parks and walks over to a blue blast-proof door.
She swipes her ID, taps in the nine-digit code and waits a few seconds. The door opens onto an airlock.
She shows her ID again and is signed in by a guard who takes her pistol and keys. After passing through the full-body scanner she is let through the inner door of the airlock.
Jeanette Fleming sits inside the staffroom. Shes a psychologist, and one of the Security Polices specialist interviewers. Shes a beautiful middle-aged woman, with ash-blonde hair cut in a boyish style.
Jeanette is elegantly dressed as usual. Shes eating salad from a plastic container.You know Im not hitting on you, but you really are ridiculously attractive, she says, pushing her plastic fork into the salad. I somehow forget about it every time... some sort of self-preservation instinct, I assume.
Jeanette puts the rest of the salad in the fridge. They walk towards the lifts.
Hows your appeal going? Saga asks.
Ive been turned down.
Sorry to hear that.
Jeanette waited eight years for her husband to decide he was ready to have children, and then he left her. She then spent three years trying Internet dating before applying for artificial insemination from the Swedish health service.
I dont know, if they say no, I might go down to Denmark to do it... but I still want the child to speak Swedish, Jeanette jokes as she gets into the lift with Saga.
She presses the button for the lowest level.
Ive only read the initial report on my phone, Saga says.
They were too rough on the girl. She got scared and clammed up, Jeanette says. They had orders to go in hard.
Who gave the orders?
I dont know, Jeanette replies.
The lift descends quickly. The light from the cage reflects off the rough rock walls, and the counterweight shimmers briefly as it glides up past them.
Sofias afraid of being hurt again. She needs someone wholl listen to her, protect her.
Who doesnt need that? Saga smiles.
They reach the bottom and walk quickly down the hallway. At this depth everything seems still and grey.
Sofia Stefanssons story has been corroborated by the discovery of a high dose of the fast-acting sedative flunitrazepam in her blood. Her wrists and ankles are wounded and theres bruising on the inside of her thighs. Her fingerprints have been found on the chair that smashed the window.
If her story is true, then shes a victim according to the law prohibiting the purchase of sexual services: she was assaulted and exploited by her customer, and should be allowed to speak to both the police and a psychologist.
But since she could also be involved in a serious act of terrorism, the law doesnt matter.
I think its best if I wait in the control room to start, Jeanette says.
Saga taps in the code and opens the door to the former ice-store.
The lighting in the windowless room is very bright. A security camera is recording at all times.
The store was built to fit two hundred tons of ice to keep the shelter cool in case of nuclear war.
Sofia Stefansson is standing uncomfortably in the middle of the floor on a plastic sheet. Her shoulders are pulled back tightly, and her hands are tied behind her back. Her weight is held by the cable shes hooked to, which stretches up to a plank beneath one of the beams. Her head is lowered and her lank hair hides her face.
10
Saga walks straight over to Sofia. She makes sure shes still alive and then explains that shes going to lower her to the ground.
Saga starts to turn the winch. Sofia gradually sinks to the floor. One of her legs starts to buckle.
Put your heels on the floor and take the strain, Saga calls.
The skin on Sofias ankles is torn, and Saga thinks of the bloody straps around the bedposts upstairs in the house.
First she was there, and now shes down here.
Sofia is lying on her side on the plastic sheet. Her breathing is laboured. She looks even younger without makeup. She could be very young. Her eyelids are swollen and the bruising around her neck is more pronounced.
When Saga loosens the straps on her arms she starts to tremble and her body tenses up.
Dont hurt me, she gasps. Please, I dont know anything.
Saga winches the empty cable back up towards the ceiling, then pulls a chair over to Sofia.
My name is Saga Bauer. Im an officer with the Security Police.
No more, she whispers. Please, I cant bear it.
Sofia, listen to me... I didnt know they were treating you like this. Im sorry about that, and I will be bringing it to my boss this afternoon, Saga says.
Sofia lifts her head off the floor. Her cheeks are smeared with tears. All her jewellery has been removed, and her brown hair is plastered to her pale face with sweat.
Saga has experienced waterboarding. It formed part of her advanced training, but she doesnt consider it particularly effective.
She looks over at a bucket of bloody water with a towel floating in it, and thinks to herself that the only thing torture reveals is the torturers own secrets.
Saga gets a bottle of water and helps Sofia drink some, then gives her a piece of chocolate.
When can I go home? Sofia whispers.
I dont know. We need answers to a few questions first, Saga says apologetically.
I already told you all I know. I havent done anything wrong. I dont understand why Im here, Sofia sobs.
I believe you, but I still need to know what you were doing in that house.
I already told them everything, she whimpers.
Tell me, Saga says gently.
Sofia slowly raises her stiff arms to wipe the tears from her eyes.
I work as an escort, and he contacted me, she replies in a thin voice.
How did he contact you?
I advertise, and he wrote an email explaining what he was interested in.
The young woman sits up slowly, and accepts another piece of chocolate.
You had pepper spray with you. Do you usually have that?
Yes, usually, although most people are pretty kind and considerate... I actually have more trouble with people falling in love with me than people getting violent.
Is there anyone who knows where youre going, who can come if you need help?
I write the names and addresses in a book... and Tamara, shes my best friend, shed already had him as a client and didnt have any trouble.
Whats Tamaras last name?
Jensen.
Where does she live?
She moved to Gothenburg.
Do you have a phone number?
Yes, but I dont know if it works.
Do you have other friends working as escorts?
No.
Saga takes a few steps back and looks at Sofia. She thinks shes telling the truth about her work.
Theres nothing that contradicts her story, even though theres little that backs it up.