‘Let’s do that,’ she said. ‘Let’s ask for a search warrant right now.’
27 14:30
Alex headed back to Solna while Fredrika stayed behind at Säpo. Eden had found her a workstation in the open-plan office. She would only need it for one day. No longer. One day – after that the plane would have run out of fuel and the drama in the skies would be over.
Fredrika felt a knot of fear in her stomach. Hundreds of people trapped on board a plane that wasn’t allowed to land. A plane that could plunge to earth or be destroyed by a bomb in the baggage hold.
Their options were limited. They could go for an emergency landing. Meet the hijackers’ demands. Or find whoever was behind the threat, thus freeing the passengers and crew. They hadn’t managed to come up with any alternative courses of action. And if it turned out that Karim Sassi was involved, they had no options at all, because in that case it wouldn’t matter if they identified his fellow perpetrators on the ground; Karim Sassi would still have the power to determine the fate of Flight 573.
Unless they could get Alex’s son Erik to intervene. It was only a question of time before they had to decide whether that was how they were going to save the plane. If Karim Sassi was involved, then Fredrika was more convinced than ever that there was no bomb on board. It had no obvious function if the captain was part of the plot.
She sat down at the computer to read through some of the newspaper articles. The PM’s press conference had turned into a fiasco. The journalists refused to accept that he had no answers to their questions, but Fredrika thought he had at least managed to convey the most important point: the Swedish government did not negotiate with terrorists. They would not be reviewing the decision to revoke Zakaria Khelifi’s residence permit. If the hijackers wanted to have a discussion about this, they were welcome to get in touch, but so far no one had claimed responsibility for the threat.
Fredrika moved on to the American press to check out their angle on the story. It was certainly just as big on the other side of the pond, no doubt about it. Of the four hundred and thirty-seven passengers on board the plane, one hundred and fifty-one were apparently US citizens. This was news to Fredrika; the US authorities must have leaked the figure. Twenty-two of these belonged to a junior football team who had travelled to Sweden to play a friendly against Bromma boys’ team.
The US citizens came from no less than ten states. The issue would occupy many members of Congress during the day. Fredrika could well imagine the political pressure that was rapidly building up in Washington, which would inevitably lead to loud demands for someone to do something. A favourite expression in the US. If someone died, if kids were getting too fat, if gas became too expensive, the cry went up: do something. Anything. At any price. The ability to take action had a strange intrinsic value in the USA.
On the other hand, that same ability had an equally strange lack of value in Sweden. Fredrika had never made any secret of the fact that she loved the USA and the American success ethic, the belief that anything was possible. She often found it difficult to swallow the European and Swedish smugness, the blind faith in their own social model. The year she had spent in New York hadn’t diminished her enthusiasm; the Americans had a fire within them, and it created energy.
There were certain dates that people would always remember. Fredrika’s parents and their friends knew exactly where they were and what they were doing on the day they heard that President Kennedy had been shot, and the same applied to the day they found out that Olof Palme had been assassinated.
And then of course there was 9/11. Fredrika knew exactly where she had been on that day: on holiday with Spencer. They had spent the whole afternoon in the hotel, unable to tear themselves away from the TV. The images of the Twin Towers collapsing were etched on her memory and could never be erased. Those majestic buildings came down at a speed that was reminiscent of a Hollywood film, with the proviso that Hollywood probably wouldn’t have made quite such a good job of it.
The fear Fredrika had felt afterwards had little to do with the terrorists behind the attack, and a great deal to do with the fact that the US President at the time was so ill-equipped to lead a country, in every possible respect. Who knew what he might do, what crazy ideas might pass through that man’s mind?
The answer to that question came almost immediately. First, Afghanistan. Then, Iraq. And so many outrages in the hunt for the terrorists along the way that it was no longer possible to count them. It was a war that could not be won, and millions of people all over the world paid the price for the insanity of it all.
Fredrika called her boss and passed on the latest developments in the investigation. She was careful to play down the possibility of Karim’s involvement; it would be better to tell him when they knew exactly what the situation was. She hoped that Alex and his colleagues would be discreet when they went into Karim’s house; if the news that the police were searching Karim Sassi’s house spread around the neighbourhood, it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew the police suspected that the captain was involved, which would make everything much more difficult. On a positive note, the press hadn’t been told which specific flight was under threat, even if they had worked out that there weren’t very many to choose from.
The hijacking was like nothing else Fredrika had ever worked on. It had been staged in a way which worried her and made her think. There were so many coincidences. For example, Karim Sassi just happened to be flying to New York the day after Säpo brought in Zakaria Khelifi. Was that by chance, or had he requested that particular flight?
She went over to Eden to ask whether they had checked with Karim’s employer.
‘According to SAS, the flight to New York was part of Karim’s normal schedule; he’s known about it for at least two months,’ Eden said.
‘So he hasn’t swapped flights or shifts with anyone?’
‘Apparently not. I’m starting to wonder whether the esteemed Mr Karim Sassi has been planning this for a long time.’
‘But that doesn’t seem likely,’ Fredrika said. ‘The government only made a decision on Zakaria Khelifi yesterday.’
‘That’s true. However, the date of the court hearing has been known since the beginning of August, which means it wasn’t difficult to work out roughly when the verdict would be delivered. Perhaps whoever was so committed to Khelifi’s case would have taken similar action if he had been convicted. The fact that it’s happened as a result of the government’s decision instead might not matter to whoever is behind this.’
Fredrika thought for a moment. On the one hand, everything to do with the hijack seemed very carefully planned, while on the other, there was something impulsive about it.
‘How are things looking in the mass media?’ Eden asked.
‘Terrible. We need to confirm which flight is involved very soon.’
‘I know, I know.’
Fredrika sighed.
‘It’s not that the reports are lacking in detail. Whoever leaked the story seems to have kept nothing back apart from the flight number and departure time. Everything else is out there – the demands, the fact that the note was taped to the wall in one of the toilets…’
Eden stopped what she was doing.
‘What did you say?’
‘I just said the media reports were very detailed.’
‘No, you said the note that was found in the toilet was taped to the wall.’
Fredrika nodded.
‘You don’t understand,’ Eden said. ‘I haven’t heard anyone mention that the note was taped to the wall. Have you?’
Fredrika thought about it, and slowly realised what she had just said.
‘No.’
Eden leapt to her feet and ran past Fredrika.