Why would he want to do that? They’d be in touch if the boys turned up.
It was eight o’clock. Alex wanted to go home. Listen to Diana telling him about her day. Have something to eat. Ring his children. If necessary he could come back in later, leave his mobile switched on all night.
But to his surprise he heard himself say:
‘I’ll drop by and call you afterwards.’
‘Good. And Fredrika Bergman? Is she still playing the violin?’
‘She’s with her family.’
Alex’s response was curt and angry. To protect Fredrika. He thought about her frown, how pensive she had been. He hoped she wasn’t having problems at home. The way she had looked today, she wouldn’t have the energy to fight a war on two fronts.
The weather was atrocious, and it seemed to be getting worse all the time. Stockholm looked deserted as he drove towards the Solomon Community for the second time today. Cars covered in snow lined the streets like white sculptures, silent and motionless.
Nothing evoked stronger feelings than children at risk; Alex was well aware of that, so he wasn’t surprised when he walked in and saw how many people had gathered to support the parents in their search for the two boys.
The general secretary recognised him.
‘Any news?’ he said, his tone almost pleading. He adjusted his glasses which had slipped down his nose. The yarmulke perched on the back of his head was black and crooked. It was interesting to observe the effects of a divergence from normality.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Alex said. ‘I was about to ask you the same question.’
The general secretary shook his head gloomily.
‘Not a trace.’
‘And there’s no reason to suspect that the boys might have gone off somewhere of their own accord?’
‘No. Where would they go? They’re ten years old, there’s a blizzard and it’s minus five out there.’
Just as Alex opened his mouth to say something about children who went missing and where they usually went, he caught sight of someone he hadn’t seen for a long time.
Peder Rydh.
A tsunami of emotions surged through his body. Peder had been there when Alex’s career reached its zenith, when he was asked to lead his own freestanding team. He had selected Peder himself, and Fredrika had joined immediately afterwards. As time went by they had become one of the best teams Alex had ever worked with.
The pain of loss seared his soul like salt on an open wound. He was leading a similar team now, with a small core and a wide periphery. But without Peder Rydh.
When had he last seen Peder? They had bumped into one another in town about a year ago, but that was all.
Peder was sitting at one of the tables, deep in thought. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hand, frowning as he read. The years had left a clear impression on his face. He looked hardened. Hardened but balanced.
‘Excuse me,’ Alex said to the general secretary, and walked over towards Peder.
When he was only a metre or so away, Peder looked up and saw Alex. His face broke into such a broad grin that Alex had to take several deep breaths to stop the tears from coming.
They hugged each other tightly, without saying a word.
‘You’re looking well,’ Alex said when they had let go.
‘I’m fine,’ Peder said. ‘I don’t actually start until tomorrow, but they asked if I’d come in tonight.’
A shadow passed across his face, and a flicker of the defiance that had been so typical of him was visible for a split second.
‘What can you tell me?’ Alex said.
They sat down at the table. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss private matters.
‘Not much. The boys didn’t turn up for their tennis coaching session, and they hadn’t said anything to their friends about other plans.’
‘Have you met the parents?’
‘The mothers are over there; the fathers are out searching.’
‘Out searching.’ As if that was a feasible option. A search party in Stockholm city centre. In a blizzard. Senseless and pointless.
‘They seem, at least at first glance, to be harmonious families. One of the fathers is perhaps a little unstable, but I can’t decide whether that’s because of what’s happened, or whether he’s always like that.’
Of course not – how could he possibly know when the investigation had been going on for less than an hour? And a person could be unstable for all kinds of different reasons.
Peder lowered his voice.
‘The community has a lot of contacts within the police.’
‘So I’ve realised,’ Alex said.
‘One name in particular has been mentioned several times over the last hour: Eden Lundell. I’ve never heard of him or her – have you?’
He certainly had.
Eden Lundell. A woman so strong that she could declare war on any country, all by herself. They had worked together only once, but that was enough. Alex had the greatest respect for Eden Lundell.
‘I know who she is,’ he said. ‘She’s a very special woman.’
‘Special enough to find two missing boys and clear up a premeditated murder?’
‘I’d be very surprised if she got involved in all this,’ Alex said.
‘Why?’
‘Because she’s Säpo’s head of counter-terrorism.’
He was so damned good.
Like most other men, her beloved husband wasn’t perfect, but he was a bloody good lover. Which was fortunate, because otherwise he would never have won Eden Lundell’s heart.
She buried her face in his shoulder to smother her cries as she came. Pulled him closer, wrapped her legs more tightly around him. Her heart was pounding like a hunted animal, and she could feel his sweaty upper body pressing down on hers. Then he stopped moving and her pulse rate dropped.
Eden was satisfied. Obviously a successful encounter.
Mikael withdrew and lay down by her side. The sheet stuck to her skin as he laid his arm across her breasts and breathed against her neck. Closeness was important to him, and she let him be. For a while, anyway.
‘Do you mind if I have a cigarette?’ she said.
‘Eden, for fuck’s sake!’
‘You can’t blame me for asking. One day you might say yes.’
‘No bloody chance.’
‘Goodness me, all this swearing. Are priests really allowed to swear?’
‘This one is.’
She caressed his arm distractedly. The bedroom still smelled of fresh paint. From the street came the muted sound of traffic. Quieter than usual; the bad weather must have persuaded people to stay at home.
It had been Eden’s idea to sell their boring house and move into the city. Mikael had taken some convincing, but when Eden made the point that she would have more time for the family if she had a shorter commute, he gave in.
‘Was it my mobile or yours that rang just now?’ she said.
‘Bound to be yours. The rest of us switch off our phones when we’re making love.’
Making love – was that really what they had just been doing? Eden would have said they were screwing, and that they knew exactly what they were doing.
‘You can’t be serious,’ Mikael said, raising his head as she slipped out of bed.
‘I’m just going to check,’ Eden said as she walked across the room to pick up her bag.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and took out her mobile. Mikael grabbed it.
‘Give it back!’
Sometimes she sounded like her daughters, barking out staccato orders and expecting instant compliance. However, she was far superior to the girls when it came to getting her own way. Mikael maintained that he and the children lived in the shadow of Eden’s whims and caprices, but she thought that was unfair.
It wasn’t her fault that others were so weak.
Mikael gave her the phone and she listened to the message that came from a withheld number. It was the general secretary of the Solomon Community.