‘He’s lying on the floor?’
‘Listen to me, we’re almost out of fuel and I must…’
The voice that interrupted him sounded like a clap of thunder.
‘You are not calling the shots here, Co-pilot Recht. All you have to do is keep calm and await instructions. Why is the man lying on the floor? Is he hurt?’
‘I knocked him out. I had no choice.’
Erik could hear Hoffman breathing heavily.
‘I’m sorry – you knocked him out?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And now you claim you’re in command of the plane? That a stewardess managed to put Captain Sassi out of action all by herself, then opened the door for you?’
This couldn’t be happening. For the first time in his life, Erik experienced something close to sheer panic.
‘Please, you have to listen to me. I…’
‘Co-pilot Recht, I have no reason to distrust you. But tell me one thing. Given that you’ve just said that an operative of the US Defense Service is lying unconscious on the floor, how am I supposed to know that everything else is in order?’
An operative of the US Defense Service?
Erik shook his head.
‘I didn’t know he was telling the truth,’ he said. ‘And I couldn’t take the risk.’
The fuel gauge was dangerously close to zero. Erik couldn’t take his eyes off it. When the fuel ran out, the engines would die. And then the situation really would be critical.
‘In that case, allow me to clarify my question: How do I know that Karim Sassi hasn’t in fact taken you hostage, and is forcing you to talk to me and say the things you’re saying?’
There were no words. Erik sat there in silence.
The voice went on: ‘As you must realise, it is not possible for us to revise our earlier decision merely on the basis of what you’re telling me now. If you need to effect an emergency landing, then you will have to contact an airport outside the USA and hope you have better luck there.’
‘But we’re all going to die!’ Erik roared. ‘We’re out of fuel, I can’t change course and go somewhere else!’
Hoffman’s voice was ice-cold and crystal clear when he replied: ‘You are not landing on American soil. Do you understand?’
Then Erik heard himself repeating the words Karim had spoken not so long ago: ‘I’m very sorry, but I have no choice.’
After a brief silence, Hoffman said: ‘In that case, I must unfortunately inform you that neither have we.’
And he was gone.
It took Erik a few moments to grasp the significance of what he had just heard. He got out his mobile, which was working now that they had lost height, and called the only person in the world that he knew for sure would listen to him.
‘Dad, it’s me again. I’m in a hell of a mess.’
66 STOCKHOLM, 23:20
Lights were showing in only a few windows in Police HQ. It was a cold night. Eden Lundell realised she should have put on a jacket.
She hadn’t actually gone out for a smoke. Someone had called her mobile, but then the coverage suddenly dipped inside the office. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d mentioned this problem; something was interfering with telephone traffic in the building, and it was bloody inconvenient. Particularly right now, as Erik Recht approached the US border with hardly any fuel, and still without permission to land. In spite of the fact that he had managed to deal with Karim Sassi.
So Eden had rushed outside to allow the call to come through. And lit a cigarette. She’d give her phone another fifteen seconds, then she would have to dash back inside.
She didn’t hear him until he said her name.
‘Eden.’
It couldn’t be true.
The ground disappeared beneath her feet. For the first time since the drama of Flight 573 began, something else filled her thoughts. Completely.
The voice was right behind her, and she suppressed the urge to turn around immediately. Instead, she dropped her cigarette and stamped on it. In silence, she watched the glow disappear; only then did she turn.
‘I thought we’d agreed not to see each other any more,’ she said.
Her voice sounded so thin, and her heart was pounding.
‘That’s strange. I have no recollection of any such agreement.’
It was several years since they had met, but the memories were as clear as if it had been yesterday.
They stood in silence on the pavement outside the main entrance of Police HQ on Polhemsgatan. There wasn’t a sound or a movement nearby. Everything was quiet. But inside Eden there was only chaos. Memories she didn’t want to acknowledge burst into life and faded like stars against a dark sky.
‘We’ve been waiting for you to get in touch.’
‘In that case you’ve been waiting in vain.’
The expression in his dark brown eyes was serious, and she wished he was a little further away so that the difference in height wasn’t so obvious. She was shorter than him; the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and she could see the gold chain around his neck. The one he had inherited from his grandfather, who had died fighting for his people and his new country.
It was far too late in the day for this kind of encounter. She was worn out, and knew that she didn’t have the capacity to be strong.
Eden was fragile.
‘Go away,’ she said, pushing past him.
She heard him say something just as her mobile rang again. As soon as she saw the number, the feeling of vulnerability was gone. She answered as she always did.
‘Yes.’
She had been longing to hear Bruce Johnson’s voice. Suddenly she was no longer alone on the pavement.
‘I believe Erik Recht has been in touch with you too.’
She had been waiting for this.
‘Yes.’
She held her breath.
‘Sorry, but nothing has changed. The Supreme Commander is sticking to his decision. We can’t risk letting Flight 573 enter US airspace. It’s just not possible. We have information which clearly indicates that the captain is intending to crash the plane into the Capitol building, regardless of whether we meet his demands. And Erik Recht can’t prove that he is in control.’
Eden heard the words, but she couldn’t process what she was hearing. They had had the chance to avert a disaster, and now that chance was gone. But she had clung to hope. Desperately. Mostly for Alex’s sake, she realised.
‘Your decision is incomprehensible.’
‘To you, perhaps, but not to us.’
‘That’s crap – you’re on our side. You think this is crazy too.’
Bruce didn’t say anything, but Eden stuck to her guns.
‘Is there anyone we can call? Anyone we can pressurise?’
What could he say to that? Of course there wasn’t anyone they could call. The decision had been made by the US Supreme Commander, the President himself. It was as close to a pronouncement from God as you could get these days. The plane would be shot down. According to American logic, this would cost hundreds of lives, but save thousands.
‘I’ll call you later when I know more,’ Bruce said.
Then he ended the call, and Eden was seized by uncontrollable rage.
He would call later.
Later.
But there was no later, for fuck’s sake!
The hostages would die and the perpetrators would achieve their goal. Didn’t the Americans get that? If they shot down the plane, they would be doing the terrorists a favour. They would be fulfilling the mission Karim Sassi had been unable to complete.
Eden had reached the doors now, completely focused on calling the next person to whom she must pass on the latest news: Alex. How could he possibly deal with what she had to tell him?
We still don’t know how this is going to end.
Efraim waited while she spoke to Alex, then caught up with her.
‘I’ll be back.’
She looked up.
‘That’s not necessary.’
‘I don’t agree.’