Where the hell was she?
He picked up the notes one of the temporary members of his team had put together. Her company was fairly new; Samson Security AB had been registered in Sweden less than a year ago, which meant there was no information about company turnover or commercial activity. All they had was a brief statement saying that the firm specialised in various security systems. The homepage was equally sparse; there were no client testimonials to attract new business, for example.
Thoughtfully he read through the last section of the notes. Samson Security AB was part of a larger concern. There was also a note from the colleague who had originally been in contact with Mona Samson, to the effect that she didn’t speak Swedish, but English. There was no indication as to where the mother company was based, but Alex thought he knew. In order to double check he phoned the tax office, who confirmed his suspicions.
Samson Security AB was part of Samson SecInt, or Samson Security International, and its head office was in Tel Aviv, in Israel.
Alex searched online for Samson SecInt, but found nothing.
Of course.
He picked up the phone and called Fredrika.
‘I’ve got another job for you. There’s a firm called Samson SecInt which is supposed to have its head office in Tel Aviv. See if you can find it, and ask about their branch in Stockholm.’
‘I haven’t got much time,’ Fredrika said. ‘I’m in a cab on my way to the kibbutzim at the moment.’
‘Do your best,’ Alex said.
An unnecessary exhortation; Fredrika always did her best.
He ended the call and turned his attention back to the computer screen and the homepage of Samson Security AB. The only contact information for Mona Samson was her telephone number; no address. Could the firm have several offices in Stockholm? The apartment block he had visited the previous day had looked like Mona Samson’s private residence rather than business premises. Why had his colleague assumed this was her office?
He made a phone call, and his colleague said that he had been given Mona’s contact details by Saul Goldmann during their first interview with him. Alex and Fredrika hadn’t been involved at that stage, because they were still concentrating on Josephine’s murder.
‘To be honest, I didn’t make much of an effort to check out the company. I had an address where Saul Goldmann said they had met, and Mona Samson confirmed that.’
‘Over the phone?’ Alex said
‘Yes, she was out of town when I called. In Skövde, I think she said.’
That might well have been what she said, but Alex had a bad feeling about the whole thing.
After a little more digging he discovered that Samson Security AB was registered at a post box address in Stockholm. Mona Samson, however, was not registered anywhere; the apartment in which she was living was presumably a sublet.
Alex thought things over. Regardless of whether or not Mona Samson could provide Saul Goldmann with an alibi, they must know one another. Goldmann had given the police both her address and telephone number, and claimed they had had a business meeting, which had apparently taken place at her private residence. Unless of course her office was there too, but why would an overseas company that had invested in a branch in another country go for such an unprofessional set-up?
After a certain amount of hesitation, he called Saul Goldmann. Saul sounded tired when he answered, almost apathetic.
It was now four days since his son had been found shot dead out on Lovön, barefoot in the snow with a paper bag over his head. That could drive any parent crazy. Or leave them feeling tired and apathetic.
‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ Alex began. ‘But we’re having problems getting in touch with Mona Samson. Do you know how we can contact her?’
‘I gave her details to another officer last week. I thought you’d already spoken to her?’
His tone was sharper now, as if Alex’s question worried him. Just as he had reacted during the interview.
‘We have, but I’d like to get in touch with her again, and I’m getting nowhere. Do you happen to know whether Samson Security has an office in the city? You gave us the address of her private apartment, and she’s not there.’
He was risking everything on one throw of the dice, hoping his bluff would work.
It did.
‘Oh, right, yes. We met in her apartment instead of her office. I happened to be nearby, so it was easier. Well, I say I happened to be nearby, but we did have an appointment. However, I had another meeting beforehand. In Kungsholmen.’
Saul Goldmann was wobbling. Gabbling.
Alex was surprised; Saul Goldmann had not given the impression that he was a person who was likely to do either of those things.
So what was he hiding?
‘Saul,’ Alex said, choosing every word with care. ‘If there’s something you’d like to tell me, something you think could improve our chances of finding the person who killed Abraham and Simon, then please talk to me. Because time is running out for another child. We still haven’t found Polly Eisenberg. And I’m afraid she will suffer the same fate as Abraham and Simon unless we track her down very soon.’
Saul’s silence was unbearable.
Say something. For fuck’s sake, say something.
‘I’ve told you everything I know. I have nothing to add.’
‘Okay, if you insist. But perhaps you remember where Mona Samson’s office is located?’
‘Of course. Samson Security has a rented office on Torsgatan.’
ISRAEL
The landscape around Jerusalem was just as dramatic as the history of the city.
They were driving south along the main road towards Tel Aviv. Fredrika was in the back of a cab reading through her notes. The kibbutz she was heading for was called Jeich Tikvha, and according to the map lay not far from Netanya, a town thirty kilometres to the north of Tel Aviv. The other kibbutz had closed down some years ago.
Fredrika was still shocked at the way the previous evening had ended. She had left the Old City alone via the Lion Gate, then she had followed the wall until she reached the Damascus Gate. She hadn’t heard from Isak, nor had she expected to. Her suitcase was in the boot of the cab, and she wanted nothing more than to go home. Leave Israel and forget that she had ever been there.
Alex had called her and given her yet another job. She hoped she would have time, but had to admit to herself that her desire to visit an Israeli security firm was minimal. Anything she did from now on lacked legitimacy since the Israeli police had disowned her, and she didn’t think Israel was a very good country in which to play at being a police officer.
The hotel had helped her to book a cab; it was expensive but practical. The driver said something she didn’t hear, and pointed through the windscreen.
‘Sorry?’
‘Rain,’ the driver said in English. ‘It’s going to rain.’
Dark clouds had come rolling in over the coast and were moving east. The first heavy drops began to fall as they turned off for Netanya.
Fredrika was tired. The peace and quiet of the hotel had allayed the fear she had felt when she finally got back, but not the paranoia. She had the sense that someone was watching her, and before she went to bed she checked several times to make sure the door was locked. She had called Spencer to say goodnight, but that had been a mistake. He knew her so well that after just a few words he could tell that something had happened.
‘I wish I was there with you,’ he had said. ‘Hurry home.’
He didn’t need to ask more than once; she had absolutely no desire to stay.
‘Here we are,’ the driver said. He pulled up; forest on one side of the road, a high fence on the other. Up ahead she could see an entrance with a guard post.
‘Jeich Tikvha,’ the driver said, pointing. ‘It means “There is hope” – did you know that?’