just have to grin and bear it.
A GroupWise message was really all it took to get going. She soon found Nilla’s email address on the internal contact list, even though she had a different surname, but it had been thirteen years and she had almost counted on Nilla being married by now.
So what was the best way to put it?
It took Rebecca over an hour to compose the email, and in the end she realized that if she was ever going to send it, she would have to keep it short.
But when she moved the cursor to the send button, she suddenly felt hesitant. Her index finger was left hanging in the air above the mouse button. Was this really such a good idea?
What sort of answer was she expecting? Sure, I’d love to talk to you, Rebecca. Let’s meet for coffee and chat about old times. Maybe you could tell me what happened the night my brother was murdered?
She moved the mouse away. She’d have to leave it for another day when she’d had time to think it through more thoroughly. Thirteen years had passed already, so a few more days wouldn’t make any difference.
When the telephone rang HP sat up with a jerk. It took him a few seconds to work out where he was, and what the stupid tune resounding through the flat actually meant.
Manga, correction, Farook’s flat, with him on the sofa, the room still dark. He blinked a few times to see the clock on the television. Who the hell was calling the Al-Hassan residence at 02:10 at night?
The ringing stopped, they must have answered in the bedroom. Then the baby started to scream. A couple of minutes later a bleary-eyed Manga appeared in the living room, wearing one of those full-length white nightshirts that he seemed to wear all the time these days.
‘The burglar alarm has gone off in the shop, you can come with me into the city,’ he slurred as he buttoned his harem trousers.
‘The security company and the cops are already there, so it’s kind of urgent. Get your clothes on while I go to the toilet …’
HP crawled off the sofa and pulled on his jeans and trainers without protest.
Just before they set off, Betul the witch stuck her head out of the nursery and gave him the evil eye, but that wasn’t the reason HP felt an uneasy lump in his stomach.
‘Has this happened before?’ he asked with feigned nonchalance while Manga beat the crap out of his little Polo as they crossed the Liljeholmen Bridge.
‘A couple of times over the years,’ he muttered through his teeth as he swerved through a red light. ‘But not since we put bars on the windows and installed a camera inside. According to the security company the thieves didn’t get in, but apparently the cops want me there straightaway. Wonder why?’
HP kept quiet and clung on to the handle above the door. The lump in his stomach was growing exponentially.
Four minutes later Manga pulled up sharply outside the shop. The security firm’s car and two cop-cars were parked outside, and a bit further away stood a fire-engine.
To HP’s relief, the shop seemed to be undamaged.
‘Hello,’ one of the policemen said as they arrived. ‘Selini, Södermalm Police.’ He pulled a notepad from his trouser pocket and nodded to HP. ‘Are you the owner?’
‘No, I am, Farook Al-Hassan.’
The policeman gave Manga and his middle-eastern appearance a long look, but said nothing.
‘Okay, we’ll need a few personal details and so on in a bit, but I’d like to show you this first.’
He led them towards the entrance. The door of the shop was open and the cop explained that the security guards had opened it up, as well as the roller blind, to check for damage inside.
‘We were just round the corner when the alarm went off,’ he went on chattily, ‘so we came close to catching them red-handed. Two blokes on a moped. My partner reckons one of them was watching while the other one broke the window, possibly filming the action. Crime videos like that are getting more and more common, happy-slapping and all that …’
HP had suddenly gone ice-cold. He opened his mouth to say something but the policeman interrupted him.
‘Either way, there wasn’t much action, they ran and we pursued them until they turned into a cycle path through Tantolunden.’
They reached the front door and the policeman indicated a fist-sized hole in the window alongside. ‘They must have used an emergency hammer or something like that to break the glass.’
The window was full of what looked like snow, like a Christmas display. All that was missing were a couple of plastic reindeer and a chocolate Santa Claus, HP noted, almost in amusement.
‘I emptied our fire-extinguisher through the hole so it never caught properly. There’ll be a bit of cleaning up, but that’s better than the alternative …’ The policeman shrugged.
HP’s stomach had clenched solid and he was having trouble breathing. The cop’s voice sounded like it was slowed down.
‘A few soaked rags and probably some more paraffin through the hole. It doesn’t look like they were planning a robbery, just wanted to start a fire. I don’t suppose you happen to have acquired any enemies recently, Mr, er … Al-Hassan?’
‘No, not as far as I know,’ Manga replied, giving HP a long look.
They both sat in silence on the way home. Thoughts were whirling through HP’s head, he was desperate for a fag but knew he’d make himself even less popular if he lit up in the car.
This was the second warning, albeit something of a failure, but still. If the cops hadn’t happened to come round the corner when they did, the computer shop wouldn’t be there now. The whole thing would have gone up in smoke, just like that. Whoosh!
And all because he had chosen to break rule number one again.
He’d dragged Manga into this and it had almost cost Manga his shop. In other words, they must have been watching them somehow, either electronically, or else there were people out there following him.
The thought made HP’s skin crawl. He couldn’t help looking in the wing-mirror. There was a car behind them, a Ford, to judge by the lights. It was keeping its distance, didn’t seem to be in any hurry.
‘My mum’s sister’s got a small cottage on a allotment in Tanto,’ Manga said curtly, and it took HP a couple of seconds before he worked out what Manga meant.
‘I’ll move out tomorrow.’
Silence filled the car again.
Another glance in the mirror, the Ford was still there. Its nearside headlight was more yellow than the other one. A replacement rather than the original, HP guessed.
Now Manga seemed to have noticed that something was up, because he too was taking long looks in the rear-view mirror.
‘I need to make a couple of calls,’ he muttered, clutching the wheel. ‘We need to work out who these bastards are, HP,
