For several years Petter has been flirting with Magdalena Ronander without noticing her troubled expression and constant attempts to switch to a more businesslike tone. Magdalena has been a detective in the Reconnaissance Division for four years, and she intends to complete her legal training before she turns thirty.
Lowering his voice suggestively, Petter questions Magdalena about her choice of service weapon, wondering aloud how often she changes the barrel because the grooves have become too worn. Ignoring his coarse innuendoes, she tells him she keeps a careful note of the number of shots fired.
But you like the big rough ones, dont you? says Petter.
No, not at all, I use the Glock Seventeen, she replies, because it can cope with a lot of the defence teams nine-millimetre ammunition.
Dont you use the Czech?
Yes, but I prefer the M39B, she says firmly, moving around him to enter the meeting room. He follows, and they both sit and greet Joona. And you can get the Glock with gunpowder gas ejectors next to the sight, she continues. It reduces the recoil a hell of a lot, and you can get the next shot in much more quickly.
What does our Moomintroll think? asks Petter, with a nod in Joonas direction.
Joona smiles sweetly and fixes his icily clear grey eyes on them. I think it doesnt make any difference. I think other elements decide the outcome, he says.
So you dont need to be able to shoot. Petter grins.
Joona is a good shot, says Magdalena. Good at everything. Petter sighs.
Magdalena ignores Petter and turns to Joona instead. The biggest advantage with the compensated Glock is that the gunpowder gas cant be seen from the barrel when its dark.
Quite right, says Joona.
Wearing a pleased expression, she opens her black leather case and begins leafing through her papers. Benny comes in, sits down, looks around at everyone, slams the palm of his hand down on the table, then smiles broadly when Magdalena flashes at him in irritation.
Magdalena ignores Petter and turns to Joona instead. The biggest advantage with the compensated Glock is that the gunpowder gas cant be seen from the barrel when its dark.
Quite right, says Joona.
Wearing a pleased expression, she opens her black leather case and begins leafing through her papers. Benny comes in, sits down, looks around at everyone, slams the palm of his hand down on the table, then smiles broadly when Magdalena flashes at him in irritation.
I took the case out in Tumba, Joona starts.
Thats got nothing to do with us, says Petter.
I think we could be dealing with a serial killer here, or at least-
Just leave it, for Gods sake! Benny interrupts, looking Joona in the eye and slapping the table again.
It was somebody settling a score, Petter goes on. Loans, debts, gambling
A gambling addict, Benny says.
Very well known at Solvalla. The local sharks were into him for a lot of money, and he ended up paying for it, says Petter, bringing the matter to a close.
In the silence that follows, Joona drinks some water and finishes the last of his sandwich. Ive got a feeling about this case, he says quietly.
Then you need to ask for a transfer, says Petter with a smile. This has nothing to do with the National CID.
I think it has.
If you want the case, youll have to go and join the local force in Tumba, says Petter.
I intend to investigate these murders, says Joona calmly.
Thats for me to decide, replies Petter.
Yngve Svensson comes in and sits down. His hair is slicked back with gel, he has blue-grey rings under his eyes and reddish stubble, and, as always, hes in a creased black suit.
Yngwie, Benny says happily.
Not only is Yngve Svensson in charge of the analytical section but hes also one of the leading experts on organized crime in the country.
Yngve, what do you think about this business in Tumba? asks Petter. Youve just been having a look at it, havent you?
Strictly a local matter, he says. A loan enforcer goes to the house to collect. Normally, the father would have been home, but hed stepped in to referee a soccer match at the last minute. The enforcer is presumably high, both speed and Rohypnol, Id say; hes unbalanced, hes stressed, something sets him off, so he attacks the family with some kind of SWAT knife to try and find out where the father is. They tell him the truth, but he goes completely nuts anyway and kills them all before he goes off to the playing field.
Petter sneers. He gulps some water, belches into his hand, and turns to Joona. What have you got to say about that?
If it wasnt completely wrong it might be quite impressive, says Joona.
Whats wrong with it? asks Yngve aggressively.
The murderer killed the father first, Joona says calmly. Then he went over to the house and killed the rest of the family.
In which case its hardly likely to be a case of debt collection, says Magdalena Ronander.
Well just have to see what the postmortem shows, Yngve mutters.
Itll show Im right, says Joona.
Idiot. Yngve sighs, tucking two plugs of snuff under his top lip.
Joona, Im not giving you this case, says Petter.
I realize that. He sighs and gets up from the table.
Where do you think youre going? Weve got a meeting, says Petter.
Im going to talk to Carlos.
Not about this.
Yes, about this, says Joona, leaving the room.
Get back in here, shouts Petter, or Ill have to-
Joona doesnt hear what Petter will have to do, he simply closes the door calmly behind him and moves along the hall, saying hello to Anja, who peers over her computer screen with a quizzical expression.
Arent you in a meeting? she asks.
I am, he says, continuing toward the lift.
Chapter 10
On the fifth floor is the National Police Boards meeting room and central office, and this is also where Carlos Eliasson, the head of the National CID, is based. The office door is ajar, but as usual it is more closed than open, as if to discourage casual visitors.
Come in, come in, come in, says Carlos. An expression made up of equal parts of anxiety and pleasure flickers across his face when Joona walks in. Im just going to feed my babies, he says, tapping the edge of his aquarium. Smiling, he sprinkles fish food into the water and watches the fish swim to the surface. There now, he whispers. He shows the smallest paradise fish, Nikita, which way to go, then turns back to Joona. The murder squad asked if you could take a look at the killing in Dalarna.
They can solve that one themselves, replies Joona. Anyway, I havent got time.
He sits down directly opposite Carlos. There is a pleasant aroma of leather and wood in the room. The sun shines playfully through the aquarium, casting dancing beams of undulant refracted light on the walls.
I want the Tumba case, he says, coming straight to the point.
The troubled expression takes over Carloss wrinkled, amiable face for a moment. He passes a hand through his thinning hair. Petter Näslund rang me just now, and hes right, this isnt a matter for the National CID, he says carefully.
I think it is, insists Joona.
Only if the debt collection is linked to some kind of wider organized crime, Joona.
This wasnt about collecting a debt.
Oh, no?
The murderer attacked the father first. Then he went to the house to kill the family. His plan from the outset was to murder the entire family. Hes going to find the older daughter, and hes going to find the boy. If he survives.
Carlos glances briefly at his aquarium, as if he were afraid the fish might hear something unpleasant. I see, he says. And how do you know this?
Because of the footprints in the blood at both scenes.
What do you mean?
Joona leans forward. There were footprints all over the place, of course, and I havent measured anything, but I got the impression that the footsteps in the locker room were well, more lively, and the ones in the house were more tired.
Here we go, says Carlos wearily. This is where you start complicating everything.
But Im right, replies Joona.
Carlos shakes his head. I dont think you are, not this time.
Yes, I am.
Carlos turns. Joona Linna is the most stubborn individual Ive ever come across, he tells his fish.
Why back down when I know Im right?
I cant go over Petters head and give you the case on the strength of a hunch, Carlos explains.
Yes, you can.
Everybody thinks this was about gambling debts.
You too? asks Joona. I do, actually.
The footprints were more lively in the locker room because the man was murdered first, insists Joona.
You never give up, do you? asks Carlos.
Joona shrugs his shoulders and smiles.
Id better ring and speak to the path lab myself, mutters Carlos, picking up the telephone.
Theyll tell you Im right, says Joona.
Joona Linna knows he is a stubborn person; he needs this stubbornness to carry on. He cannot give up. Cannot. Long before Joonas life changed to the core, before it was shattered into pieces, he lost his father.
Maybe thats when it all began.
Joonas father, Yrjö Linna, was a patrolling policeman in the district of Märsta. One day in 1979 he happened to be on the old Uppsalavägen a little way north of the Löwenström Hospital when Central Control got a call and sent him to Hammarbyvägen in Upplands Väsby. A neighbour had called the police and said the Olsson kids were being beaten again. Sweden had just become the first country to introduce a ban on the corporal punishment of children, and the police had been instructed to take the new law seriously. Yrjö Linna drove to the apartment block and pulled up outside the door, where he waited for his partner. After a few minutes the partner called; he was in a queue at Mamas Hot Dog Stand, and besides, he said, he thought a man should have the right to show who was boss sometimes.
Yrjö Linna never was one to talk much. He knew regulations dictated that there should always be two officers present at an incident of this kind, but he said nothing, although he was well aware that he had the right to expect support. He didnt want to push, didnt want to look like a coward, and he couldnt wait. So, alone, Yrjö Linna mounted the stairs to the third floor and rang the doorbell.
A little girl with frightened eyes opened the door. He told her to stay on the landing, but she shook her head and ran into the apartment. Yrjö Linna followed her and walked into the living room. The girl banged on the door leading to the balcony. Yrjö saw that there was a little boy out there, wearing only a nappy. He looked about two years old. Yrjö hurried across the room to let the child in, and that was why he noticed the drunken man just a little too late. He was sitting in complete silence on the sofa just inside the door, his face turned towards the balcony. Yrjö had to use both hands to undo the catch and turn the handle. It was only when he heard the click of the shotgun that Yrjö froze. The shot sent a total of thirty-six small lead pellets straight into his spine and killed him almost instantly.