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She would have preferred him to call, but it meant ceding control and that was something she definitely didn't want to do. He had got her going again and she was truly grateful, but she wanted to continue under her own steam. 'I'll call Stocksund.'

'Good. Here's the number, I checked it out in the book.'

He helped her dial. At first, the phone rang without anyone answering. Patrik kept watching her and her heart was pounding. It would have been easier alone. She had no practice lying in front of an audience.

'Marten Samuelsson.'

The sudden sound of a voice at the other end threw her. The many signals had distracted her.

I'm sorry to trouble you. Is this Sofie Samuelsson's husband?'

Fantastic introduction. She closed her eyes. Whoever he was, for sure he wasn't Sofie Samuelsson's husband. Not any more. 'Who's speaking, please?'

She looked around, as if useful answers might be lurking in attic corners. 'This is…'

Patrik was miming THE POLICE. '… from the police.' Silence at the other end.

'Just one question. Did your wife have an organ transplant recently?'

I told you so already.'

She nodded to Patrik. He rolled his eyes.

'When was this?'

'Whenever you people came round here.'

'No, I mean the operation.'

'Thirteen months ago.'

'I see. Can you remember the date?'

'The fifteenth March. I'll never forget that date. Why do you ask?'

'No problem. Thank you for your help.'

She handed Patrik the phone. He pressed a button to switch it off and sighed.

'Why don't you try the straight question-approach next time?'

'You can phone yourself if you're so smart. When was Soren Stromberg operated on?'

Patrik was leafing through his papers looking for the hospital notes.

'Many times.'

'Any entry on the fifteenth March?' 'Got it. 98 03 15. Liver transplant.' She nodded. He pushed his fist in the air. 'YEES! We fucking did it!'

Sibylla felt pleased too, but was already thinking ahead. What had they proved, exactly? It seemed likely that all four victims were ex-transplant patients. What did this mean? Why should anyone go to the trouble of murdering four severely ill individuals?

Patrik's eyes were glowing behind his specs.

'I'll pop downstairs and tell Mum!'

'What? Have you gone off your…?'

'Why not? We've got a motive!'

‘Is that so? What motive?'

Patrik fell silent and a small vertical fold between his eyebrows replaced his smile. 'Oh. Fuck.' 'See what I mean?'

He sat down beside her. The attic was chilly and Sibylla wrapped the sleeping bag round their shoulders. 'Is your Mum back then?' She was reaching for the beer and sandwich, I thought you said she wouldn't be back until this evening.' Patrik stared at the floor. He was muttering. 'She didn't feel well and came back early.'

The minutes were crawling along. He'd asked her to come with him but she'd refused. She had no intention of entering his home again, especially not with his mother in bed next door to his room.

Finally he returned, bringing a new stack of papers. He sat down beside her.

I printed out lots, but ran out of paper. Fancy a banana?'

Starting to peel it at once, she thought she was becoming spoiled by this life of luxury. Then she got hold of the first sheet of paper.

DONATIONS. ANSWERS TO THE MOST FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS.

Deep in concentration, they read through all the information in the pile, hoping to find new leads. Patrik was lying on her mat, while she was sitting in an old armchair pulled out from an unlocked box-room.

Can someone else use your kidneys after your death?

Reading on from this initial question, she realised that much had happened while she was out of touch with the whole social system. She definitely had not filled in any Donor Card, but maybe that didn't affect non-people like herself. What would happen to her after an accident? Would anyone want her remains? She had never considered such questions before, not even the matter of her final burial. Were there funeral services held for lost souls like her, homeless beings, whom no one really cared for? Maybe they were easy meat, with organs anyone could have if in need of some replacement or other. Well, it was quite a thought that one day she might be regarded as a useful resource.

Law on Transplantation, third paragraph, section one: Biological material intended for transplantation or other medical procedures may be removed from a deceased person, on condition that the person has declared his or her informed consent or if the deceased's wishes in the matter can be ascertained in any other manner.

Biological material, as simple as that. That's what they all were, when everything was said and done. She wondered what conclusions they would draw about Sibylla Forsenström's wishes in the matter of her biological material, when her day finally came.

Ibid. Third paragraph, section two. In cases other than those indicated in section one, biological material may be removed if the deceased has not in writing declared him- or herself explicitly opposed to such use or made declarations, which unequivocally show that such interventions would be contrary to the deceased's beliefs or value-systems.

She looked up from her bundle of paper and stared at the wooden planks in the wall opposite. So that was it – it was open season to use her and her mates. One man's meat is another man's poison, only the other way round. What would it feel like to have another's heart, especially if it was kept alive and beating only when you took medicines to stop your familiar old body from ridding itself of its heart? And the nearest and dearest, what did they feel? What was it like, knowing that your beloved's heart was still there, inside someone else?

Patrik's voice interrupted her musings.

'Found anything?'

'Not really. Have you?'

Since he didn't answer, she assumed he hadn't, and returned to her reading. Paragraph four.

Even if biological material can be removed as described in Paragraph three, section two, such procedures are not permitted in cases where someone close to the deceased is strongly opposed to the intervention. Close relations by blood or marriage must be informed about the planned intervention and about their right to forbid it. After such information has been provided, the informed must be allowed a reasonable period of time to consider it.

She read it all through once more. Then she put the paper down and rose, slowly turning the idea over in her mind. It was right, she could feel it all over.

Accursed are those who rob the innocents of their rights.

'Patrik!'

'Ummm.'

'I've got it!'

She heard him shuffling behind the wooden partition and the next moment he was with her. 'What? How can you be sure?' She was sure.

'The killer, it's someone who is regretting giving permission.' Regret was what she had not been given a chance to do once. Accursed are those who rob the innocents of their rights. The right to live. Or to die. 'It could be someone who wasn't asked at all.'

Patrik went back downstairs to commune with his computer. Meanwhile she was impatiently pacing the corridor to pass the time.

The donor must have died just before the 15th March, 1998. How could they find out who he or she was? Maybe there were lists of donors in that secret world Patrik could access through his computer. If there were, she felt certain he would find it. Everything seemed to be connected by that strange Net of his.

He mustn't say anything to his mother. She had forbidden him, deciding that she preferred to stay chief suspect for however long it took to find the answer alone. The police might be on the same trail – but why would they be? They knew who the murderer was already.

When Patrik returned, he had no good news to bring. There were no officially available registers of dead individuals, only general mortality statistics. It was unhelpful to know that during the year, 93,271 people had died.