His thoughts turned to Eden Lundell. She would have a much better understanding of why someone would be travelling on a false ID. Perhaps Efraim Kiel wasn’t even his real name. If he had a sensitive job back home, there could be other reasons why he wanted to keep a low profile.
‘I’ll call him,’ Alex decided. There was no reason not to. He dug out the number Peder had given him, picked up his phone and keyed it in. He waited for Efraim Kiel to answer, but that didn’t happen. Instead a metallic voice informed Alex that this number was not in use.
He tried again.
And again.
He put down the phone.
‘No subscriber on that number,’ he said.
Fredrika frowned. Peder had once said that she looked pompous when she was thinking, but Alex didn’t agree; he thought she was a classic beauty.
‘But hadn’t Peder called Efraim on that number?’
‘Possibly, but it’s no longer in use.’
‘Maybe he’s left the country?’ Fredrika suggested. ‘If he’s not at the hotel, and he’s no longer using a Swedish mobile?’
Alex knew that could be the explanation. It had taken a few days to sort out the appointment of a new head of security, so it wasn’t surprising if Efraim had decided to get himself a Swedish phone number temporarily. If he had completed his mission, then it was logical to assume that he had gone back home.
But he had told Peder he was staying on.
So where the hell was he?
‘Eden Lundell,’ Alex said.
Fredrika went from pensive to surprised.
‘What about her?’
‘I want to ask her about Efraim Kiel. She might be able to throw some light on all these elements that seem so inexplicable at the moment. Tell us what kind of background a man like Efraim might have, why he’s behaving this way. And whether she thinks it’s worth contacting him.’
‘I didn’t realise you were still in touch with Eden.’
For the first time all day, Alex saw a hint of a smile on her face. It was a refreshing sight.
‘Oh yes, Eden and I are like this,’ he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, holding up two crossed fingers.
Fredrika burst out laughing.
‘Alex, no one is that close to Eden Lundell!’
That was probably true, but he still wanted to speak to her.
At that moment his mobile rang again. It was one of the IT technicians, finally ready to report on their examination of the boys’ computers.
‘Can you come over right away? We’ve found something that might be important.’
Any progress in the investigation into the deaths of the two boys was welcome. Because of a leak in the roof, the IT technicians had had to move down into the basement; entering their office felt like visiting another universe.
Lasse, the technician who had called, showed them into a dingy room that smelled of dust. He switched on a desk lamp, then closed the door behind them.
‘Look at this,’ he said, handing them a pile of computer printouts.
They looked like extracts from an exchange of emails.
‘That Super Troopers forum is interesting, to say the least. It was originally created by a man who’d made a name for himself as a so-called sports parent – you know, one of those idiots who’ll do anything to make sure his kids are going to be world-beaters at tennis or golf or chess or some other crap.’
Fredrika caught herself nodding. Oh yes, she had met parents like that.
‘As you already know, the boys were members and called themselves the Warrior and the Paper Boy. They rarely participated in the same discussion, and judging by their input they seem to have been very different individuals. The Warrior wants to win at all costs, while the Paper Boy seems more interested in having fun.’
That fitted in with what they had been told by the boys’ parents. Once again Fredrika thought of the pictures she had seen of Simon and Abraham: serious and focused.
‘Did they make any friends on the forum?’ she asked.
‘Not many, but there was one exception. Both boys were contacted by someone calling himself the Lion. At first they communicated briefly in the open chat room, then they moved over to email. And that’s where it gets interesting. Because if we’re interpreting their correspondence correctly, the Lion wanted to meet them.’
Lasse pointed to one of the pages he had given them. Fredrika quickly skimmed through the text; all the messages were signed Zalman, which she assumed was a forename.
According to the Lion, he was able to give excellent advice on how to achieve success. He said he was planning to set up a new tennis academy in Stockholm, and had therefore started to look around for fresh talent in Sweden. He had heard from his Swedish contacts that Simon and Abraham had won a number of minor competitions and tournaments, and he was curious to know more. To Simon, who had slightly less drive to win than Abraham, he wrote that it was possible to win without being nasty. The tone was playful, the messages brief. All communication had taken place in English; the boys seemed to be pretty good at the language. On one occasion the Lion apologised for his lack of expertise in Swedish: ‘but I’m going to learn as soon as I move to Sweden’, he wrote.
Fredrika’s heart beat faster when she saw the date on which the Lion had suggested meeting up. Some time between January 23 and 27. Now, in fact. The week they went missing. This was something they would have to discuss with the boys’ parents, as soon as possible. They had to find out whether this meeting had taken place.
‘Have you managed to find out who the Lion is?’ she asked.
Lasse spread his hands wide.
‘I’ve been working on it all day, but I’m getting nowhere. I even became a member of Super Troopers so that I could get closer, but the Lion isn’t on there any more. I’ve contacted the administrator, but it’s impossible to trace the Lion.’
‘Why?’ Alex said.
‘Because he or she has used different public computers every single time the Lion has been active.’
‘Where, for example?’
‘Places like the 7-Eleven convenience stores, or smaller internet cafés.’
‘Give us a list and we’ll contact them. With a bit of luck one or two will have CCTV, and we’ll be able to get a picture.’
Lasse’s expression was grim.
‘I can give you a list, but it won’t do you any good.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because all the places are in Jerusalem.’
All roads lead to Rome. But not this time. In this case all roads appeared to lead to Israel. Alex Recht was alone in his office; Eden Lundell was on her way over from Säpo to talk about Efraim Kiel, although Alex had chosen not to mention his name on the phone. He had simply said that a certain individual had come up in his investigation, and he thought Eden might be able to tell him more about that person.
Fredrika had gone home. Alex had said he would call her later, because he still hadn’t had time to discuss his plan with her. He sincerely hoped she would think it was as good as he did; if all roads led to Israel, there was no point in the team setting off in a different direction.
Just before Eden arrived, he called Diana.
‘Sorry, I’m going to be really late tonight as well.’
A laugh at the other end of the phone.
‘In that case I’ll have a glass of wine in the meantime. Come home as soon as you can.’
‘I will.’
And then, just as he was about to end the call, he said: ‘I love you.’
‘I know.’
And then she was gone.
‘I know.’ What a way to answer, but a warm feeling spread through Alex’s chest, because he knew that Diana loved him too.
The sound of rapid footsteps in the corridor interrupted his train of thought, and then there she was, standing in the doorway. Taller than he remembered, glasses perched on the end of her nose. Messy blonde hair and a thin smile on her lips.