it’s Joona.”
“How’s it going? Have you found anything out?”
“I’ve just been given an approximate location for the call.”
“Where was he?”
“The only thing we’ve got so far is that the base station is in Gävle.”
“Gävle?”
“Slightly north of—”
“I know where the place is. I just don’t understand.”
Joona can hear Erik moving around the room. “We’ll get a more precise location sometime this week,” he says.
“Sometime?”
“Tomorrow, hopefully.”
“So will you take over the case?” Erik asks, his voice full of tension.
“I’m taking over the case, Erik,” says Joona firmly. “I will find Benjamin.”
“Thank you.” Erik clears his throat, and goes on, once his voice is steady again. “I’ve been giving some thought to who could have done this, as you suggested, and I have the name of a person I’d like you to trace. Eva Blau. She was a patient of mine about ten years ago.”
“Blau? Like blue in German?”
“Yes.”
“Had she threatened you?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“I’ll do a search right away.” Joona writes the name on a pad. “One other thing. I’d really like to see you and Simone as soon as possible.”
“All right. What’s up?”
“Nobody did a reconstruction of the crime, did they?”
“No.”
“To remind Simone of exactly what she saw. And there may have been witnesses. It’ll help us figure out who may have had the opportunity to see the crime take place. Will you be home in half an hour?”
“I’ll call Simone,” says Erik. “We’ll wait for you there.”
“Good.”
“Joona,” says Erik.
“Yes?”
“I know it’s usually a matter of hours if the perpetrator is caught. I know it’s the first twenty-four hours that count. And now it’s—”
“Don’t you believe we’re going to find him?”
“It’s … I don’t know,” Erik whispers.
“I’m not usually wrong,” Joona replies quietly, but with a sharpness in his voice. “And I believe we’re going to find your son.”
Joona hangs up. He takes the piece of paper with Eva Blau’s name on it and goes to see Anja again. There is a strong smell of oranges in her office. A bowl of assorted citrus fruit stands next to the computer with its pink keyboard; on one wall hangs a large shiny poster showing a muscular Anja swimming the butterfly in Barcelona, at the 1992 Summer Olympics.
Joona smiles. “I was the safety officer when I was doing my military service. I could swim ten kilometres with a signal flag. But I’ve never been able to do butterfly.”
“It’s a waste of energy, that’s what it is.”
“Oh, not at all. I think it’s beautiful—you looked like a mermaid, swimming along,” says Joona.
Anja’s voice reveals a certain amount of pride as she tries to explain. “The coordination technique is very demanding. It’s all about a counter rhythm and—who cares?”
Anja straightens up contentedly, her large chest almost brushing Joona where he stands.
“Anyway,” he says, holding out the piece of paper, “I’d like you to do a search for me.”
Anja’s smile stiffens. “I should have known you wanted something, Joona. It was a bit too good to be true. You come along with that sweet smile, and I was almost beginning to think you were going to ask me out to dinner or something.”
“Oh, I will, Anja. All in the fullness of time.”
She shakes her head and snatches the piece of paper from him. “Is it urgent?”
“It’s extremely urgent, Anja.”
“So why are you standing here flirting with me?”
“Thought you liked it.”
Anja studies the piece of paper for a moment. “Eva Blau,” she says thoughtfully.
“There’s no guarantee that it’s her real name.”
Anja chews on her lip. “A made-up name,” she says. “It’s not much to go on. Haven’t you got anything else? An address or something?”
“Nothing. The only thing I know is that she was a patient of Erik Maria Bark at Karolinska University Hospital ten years ago, probably for just a few months. But you can check the electoral roll and all the other databases. Is there an Eva Blau who enrolled in a university course? If she bought a car, she’s registered to drive. Or has she ever applied for a visa? Does she have a library card … clubs, the temperance movement? I want you to look at witness protection programmes as well, victims of crimes—”
“Yes, all right, all right. Now go away,” says Anja, “and let me get on with my work.”
72
tuesday, december 15: morning
Joona turns off the audio book; Per Myrberg is reading Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment with his own peculiar mixture of calm and intensity. He parks the car outside Lao Wai, an Asian vegetarian restaurant that Disa keeps nagging him to try. He glances in through the window and is struck by the ascetic, simple beauty of the wooden furniture, the absence of anything unnecessary, the lack of decorative bits and pieces within the restaurant.
Erik and Simone are waiting for him in their apartment. Joona runs through what he intends to do.
“We’re going to reconstruct the kidnapping as far as possible. The only one of us who was really there when it happened is you, Simone.”
She nods resolutely.
“So you will play yourself. I’ll be the kidnapper and you, Erik, can be Benjamin.”
“All right.”
Joona points to the clock. “Simone, what time do you think the break-in took place?”
She
