There is no furniture in this room. Just the hanged man, who, in all probability, is none other than Carl Palmcrona, the general director of ISP.
The rope is fastened to the center of the lamp hook emerging from the rosette in the center of the ceiling.
Theres nothing for him to climb on, Bengtsson thinks.
The ceiling height must be at least three and a half meters.
Bengtsson calms himself, collects his thoughts, and registers everything he sees. The hanged mans face is as blanched as damp sugar and John Bengtsson can see only a few blood spots in the wide-open eyes. The man is wearing a thin overcoat, a light gray business suit, and black leather-soled oxfords. A black briefcase and a cell phone lie on the parquet floor a short distance from the pool of urine that has collected directly underneath the body.
The hanged man suddenly shakes.
Bengtsson takes a sharp breath.
A heavy thud from the ceiling above. The sounds of a hammer in the attic. Someone walks across the attic floor. Another thud and Palmcronas body shakes again. The sound of a power drill. Silence. Someone calling for more cable: Cable reel.
Bengtsson notices how his pulse begins to slow as he turns to walk away from the salon. He sees the outer door is open and he stops, sure hed closed it. He knows he could be wrong. He leaves the apartment, but before he reports to his department, he picks up his cell phone and calls Joona Linna at the National Criminal Investigation Department.
5
First week of June. For several weeks the people of Stockholm have been waking up much too early. The sun rises at three thirty a.m. and remains bright almost the entire night. The weather has been unusually warm. The exuberant bird cherries and lilacs bloomed at the same time. Dense sprays of buds spread their aroma from Kronoberg Park all the way to the entrance of the National Police Board headquarters.
The National Police Board, Swedens only centrally operating police organization, is responsible for combating serious crime at both the national and international level.
The head of the National Criminal Investigation Department, Carlos Eliasson, is standing by the low window on the fifth floor, scanning the view over Kronoberg Park while pressing the phone to his ear and dialing Joona Linnas number. Once again, he hears his call connect to voice mail. He sets the phone down and glances at the clock.
Next door, a tired voice tries to deal with a European arrest warrant and the Schengen Information System.
Petter Naslund enters Carloss office and, clearing his throat carefully, leans against a streamer that declares: WE MONITOR, MARK THE SPOT, AND DISTURB.
Pollock and his guys will be here soon, Petter says.
I can tell time, says Carlos.
The sandwiches are ready, Petter says.
Carlos suppresses a smile and asks, Have you heard theyre recruiting?
Petters face turns red as he looks at the floor, collects his thoughts, and looks up again. I would Can you think of anyone better who would work well in the National Homicide Squad?
There are five experts who make up the National Homicide Squad. The Commission, as theyre known, works systematically using a methodology known by its initials, PIGC, Police Investigation of Grave Criminality. The burden they carry is enormous. They are in such demand, they barely have time to get to the police station for a meeting.
The paradise fish in Carloss aquarium calmly make their turns. As he reaches for fish food, the phone rings.
Theyre on the way up, says Magnus in reception.
Carlos tries one last time to reach Joona Linna by phone, then gets up, checks himself quickly in the mirror, and goes to welcome his guests. Just as he reaches the elevator, the doors soundlessly slide open. Seeing the entire Commission together makes an image flash in his mind: a Rolling Stones concert he attended a few years back with some of his colleagues. The band on the stage looked like relaxed businessmen, and just like the National Homicide Squad, they were all dressed in dark suits and ties.
Nathan Pollock steps out first, his distinctive silver hair in a ponytail. Following him is Erik Eriksson. He likes eyeglasses decorated with diamonds, hence the nickname Elton. Behind him saunters Niklas Dent, next to P. G. Bondesson, and walking behind all of them is Tommy Kofoed. Kofoed is the forensic technician. Hes hunchbacked, and stares sullenly at the ground.
Carlos shows them to the meeting room, where Operating Commander Benny Rubin is already sitting at the round table, waiting for them, a cup of coffee before him. Tommy Kofoed takes an apple from the fruit basket and bites in loudly. Nathan Pollock looks at him with a smile and shakes his head slightly. Kofoed stops right in the middle of a chew.
Welcome, Carlos begins. Its good we can get together. There are several serious issues on the agenda.
Shouldnt we wait for Joona Linna? asks Tommy Kofoed.
Well drawls Carlos.
That man does just what he pleases, Pollock says quietly.
Hey, come on now, Tommy Kofoed says defensively. Give the man his due. The Tumba murders last year? He had them all figured out and I still dont know how he did it.
Against all fucking logic, Elton says with a smile.
Id say Im fairly well versed in forensics, Tommy Kofoed continues, but Joona walked in, took a look at the blood spatters He knew right away when each murder had occurred Amazing
Its true, its true. He could see the whole picture, Pollock says. The degree of violence, the level of force, the stress level, how the footprints found in the apartment lagged more, which showed more exhaustion than those in the locker room.
Fucking awesome, Tommy Kofoed mutters.
Carlos clears his throat, returns to his informal agenda.
The Coast Guard called this morning, he tells them. An old fisherman found a dead woman.
In his nets?
No, he saw a large motorboat drifting with the current near Dalaro. He rowed out, boarded the vessel, and found her sitting on her berth in the fore.
That doesnt sound like something for us, Petter Naslund says, and smiles.
Was she murdered? asks Pollock.
Probably a suicide, answers Petter quickly.
Theres no need to make snap judgments, Carlos says as he helps himself to a slice of sugar cake. But I wanted to bring it up.
Anything else?
We had a request from the police in West Gotaland, Carlos says. The form is on the table.
I wont be able to take it on, Pollock says.
I know how busy you are, Carlos says, slowly sweeping crumbs from the table. Lets skip to the other end of the agenda: recruiting someone for the NHS.
Benny Rubin looks around with a sharp glance and explains that the leadership is aware of the heavy workload, and they therefore, as a first step, have allocated funds for expanding the Commission by one fulltime position.
What does everyone think? Carlos asks.
Shouldnt Joona Linna be here? asks Tommy Kofoed. He leans forward and takes one of the wrapped sandwiches.
Im not sure hell make it, Carlos says.
What about a bite before we get into this? says Elton, reaching for the tray.
Tommy Kofoed methodically unwraps the plastic from his salmon sandwich, peels back the bread, plucks off a sprig of dill, squeezes lemon juice over the salmon, and reassembles his sandwich.
Suddenly the door to the meeting room swings open and Joona Linna steps in. His short-cut blond hair stands straight up.
Syo tilli, pojat, he says in Finnish.
Thats right! Nathan Pollock laughs. Eat your dill, boys!
Nathan and Joona grin at each other. Tommy Kofoeds cheeks turn red and he shakes his head with a smile.
Tilli. Nathan Pollock repeats the Finnish word and laughs out loud as Joona walks past Tommy and sticks the dill back onto his sandwich.
Lets get back to the meeting, says Petter.
Joona shakes hands with Nathan, then takes an empty chair, slinging his black jacket over the back as he sits down.
Please pardon my being late, he says.
Let me welcome you as a guest of this meeting, says Carlos. We were just bringing up recruiting. I believe Ill hand the floor over to Nathan.
All right, and I want everyone to know that Im not alone in this, Nathan Pollock begins. Rather were all in agreement. Joona, were hoping that youll come on board with us.
The room falls silent. Niklas Dent and Erik Eriksson nod. Petter Naslund is a dark silhouette in the backlight.
Wed really like to have you, Tommy Kofoed ventures.
I appreciate the offer, Joona answers as he runs his hand over his hair. Youre hardworking guys, and youve proved your mettle. I respect your work
Everyone around the table smiles.
But as for me I just cant be tied down to your strict methodology. To any strict method of investigation, he explains.
We know, we understand, Kofoed says quickly. The way we work is a little rigid, but its shown
Kofoed falls silent.
We just wanted to ask, says Nathan Pollock.
Its just not the way I work, Joona explains.
To a man, they look down at the table; someone nods. Joonas cell phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it. He stands up from the table and leaves the room. A minute later he returns and slides his jacket off the chair.
Sorry. I would like to stay, but-
Something serious? asks Carlos.
That was John Bengtsson from Routine Patrol, Joona says. Hes just found Carl Palmcrona.
Found? asks Carlos.
Hanged, Joona answers. His eyes gleam like gray glass.
Who is Palmcrona? asks Nathan Pollock. I cant place the name.
Hes the general director for ISP, Tommy Kofoed says quickly. He makes the final decisions on Swedish arms exports.
Isnt everything at ISP classified? asks Carlos.
True, Kofoed answers.
So let the guys at Sapo take it.
Ive just promised Bengtsson Id come in person, Joona answers. Theres something not quite right about the scene.
What? Carlos asks.
He said well, I really have to see it myself.
Sounds interesting, Tommy Kofoed says. Can I come?
If you want, Joona answers.
Ill come, too, then, Pollock says swiftly.
Carlos tries to remind them about the meeting in progress but sees it is pointless as the three men get up and walk out into the cool hallway.
6
Twenty minutes later, Detective Inspector Joona Linna parks his black Volvo on Strandvagen and gets out to wait for his colleagues from the National Criminal Investigation Department. They pull up moments later in a silver-gray Lincoln Town Car and together they walk around the corner and enter the building at Grevgatan 2.