she felt something sticking out. She became curious and screwed her eyes up in the dark to see what it was. A metal plate. She strained forward to try and study the little silver plate that was screwed into the wall. She saw some letters on it and she tried to make out what they said. V... P... Then there was a letter she didn’t recognize.
“Mama?” she whispered. “What letter is this?” She crossed her two fingers to show her.
“X,” her mother whispered back. “An X.”
X, the girl thought, V, P, X, O. And then some numbers. She counted six of them. There were six numbers.
THE AUTOPSY ROOM was lit up by strong fluorescent ceiling lights. A shiny steel table stood in the middle of the room and on it, under a white sheet, you could see the contours of a body.
A long row of plastic bottles marked with ID numbers were lined up on another stainless-steel table along with a skull saw. The metallic smell of meat had permeated the room.
Jana Berzelius went in first and stood across the table from the medical examiner, whose name was Björn Ahlmann. She said hello, then pulled out her notepad.
Henrik went over and stood next to Jana, while Mia Bolander stayed back near the exit door. Henrik too would have liked to have stayed at a distance. He had always found it difficult to be in the autopsy room, and he by no means shared Ahlmann’s fascination with dead bodies. He wondered how the pathologist could work with corpses every day and not be affected. Even though it was also part of Henrik’s job, he still found death hard to witness up close. Even after seven years on this job, he had to force himself to keep a composed face when a body was exposed.
Jana, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be bothered at all. Her facial expression revealed nothing, and Henrik found himself wondering if anything at all could get her to react. He knew that knocked-out teeth, poked-out eyes, chopped-off fingers and hands didn’t do it. Nor tongues that had been bitten to bits, or third-degree burns. He knew that because he had witnessed the same things in her presence, and he inevitably had to empty the contents of his stomach afterward, whereas she never seemed disturbed.
Jana’s facial expressions were indeed extremely restrained. She was never harrowed or resolute; she hardly showed any emotions at all. She rarely smiled and should a smile happen to cross her lips, it was more like a line. A strained line.
Henrik didn’t think that her austere personality matched her appearance. Her long dark hair and big brown eyes gave off a warmer vibe. Perhaps she was only projecting her professional side to maintain others’ respect. Certainly her navy blazer, three-quarter-length skirt and ever-present high heels played into her image as a strict, no-nonsense prosecutor. Perhaps she let out her personal feelings outside work... Perhaps not.
Björn Ahlmann carefully folded back the sheet and exposed Hans Juhlén’s naked body.
“Right, let’s see. We have an entry hole here and we have an entry hole here,” said Björn and pointed at two open wounds on the chest. “Both seem to be perfectly placed, but this is the one that killed him.”
Björn moved his hand and indicated the upper hole.
“So there were definitely two shots then?” Henrik commented.
“Exactly.”
Björn picked up an image from a CAT scan and clipped it up on the light box.
“Chronologically, it seems that he first received a bullet in the lower part of his rib cage, and fell down. He fell backward, which resulted in a subdural hemorrhage at the back of his head. You can see it here.”
Björn pointed at a black area on the image. “But he didn’t die, not from the first shot or from the heavy fall. No, my guess is that when Hans Juhlén collapsed, the perpetrator went up close and shot him again. Here.”
He pointed at the second entry hole in Juhlén’s body.
“This shot went right through the cartilage of the rib cage and through the pericardium, the heart. And he died immediately.”
“So he died from bullet number two.” Henrik again repeated the pathologist’s words.
“Yes.”
“Weapon?”
“The cartridges that were found show that he was shot with a Glock.”
“Then it won’t be so easy to trace,” said Henrik.
“Why?” said Jana, at the very same moment that her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She ignored it and asked again, “Why?”
“Because, as I’m sure you are aware, a Glock is a very common weapon. So common it’s used by our army and by police across the world. So I just mean it will take a while to run a check on all those on the list of people holding legitimate licences,” he said.
“Then we’ll have to put that task in the hands of somebody with patience,” Jana answered, and again felt a short vibration in her pocket. The caller must have left a message.
“Any sign that the victim tried to defend himself?” Mia asked from across the room.
“No. No signs of violence. No scratch marks, no bruises or marks from a stranglehold. He was shot. Plain and simple.”
Björn looked up at Henrik and Jana.
“The flow of blood shows that he died on the spot and his body was not moved, but—”
“Yes, Gunnar told us.” Mia interrupted him from across the room.
“Yes, I talked with him this morning. But there are...”
“No fingerprints?” she said.
“No. But...”
“Narcotics then?”
“No, no drugs. No alcohol. But...”
“Broken bones?”
“No. But will you let me finish now?”
Mia became silent.
“Thank you. What does seem interesting is the path of the bullets through the body. One of the entry holes—” Björn pointed at the upper of the two “—is not out of the ordinary. The bullet went horizontally through the body. But the other bullet went diagonally, at an angle. And judging by the angle, the perpetrator must have been kneeling, lying down or sitting up when he or she fired the first shot. Then, as I said earlier, when the man fell down, the shooter went up to him and fired a final shot right through his heart.”
“Execution style, then,” said Mia.
“That’s up to you to judge, but yes, it would seem so.”
“So he was standing up when bullet number one hit him,” said Henrik.
“Yes, and he was shot at an upward angle from the front.”
“So
