‘Life,’ David said. ‘Which was only right after what he had done.’
But?
There was an unspoken ‘but’ that they were avoiding, refusing to touch.
‘It was just so terrible for his family,’ Gali whispered. ‘We did our best to support them, but it was difficult. Especially for us.’
‘His family? You knew them?’
David nodded. Fredrika gazed at the idyllic surroundings, tried to work it out.
‘The murderer came from here? He was one of you?’
Another nod, and Fredrika was beginning to understand.
‘He killed himself in prison,’ David said. ‘His son was particularly badly affected by the whole thing. I’d say he was every bit as damaged as the boy who got away.’
Gali wiped a tear from her cheek.
‘Avital was the Hunter and the Paper Boy,’ she said. ‘Now do you see? Saul Goldmann’s father was the murderer.’
Fredrika didn’t know what to say. Saul’s father had subjected other children to the same horror that had now claimed his own grandchild. The Paper Boy had travelled from the past to the present.
Someone had brought him to life.
‘Although in those days the family was called Greenburg, not Goldmann,’ David said.
Fredrika stopped dead. For a second, time stood still.
‘Avital Greenburg. Was that his name?’
‘Yes, but when it was all over, Aida changed the family name. For Saul’s sake, so that fewer people would remember his background.’
But someone still remembers.
Whoever had called himself the Lion had known exactly what he was doing.
The Lion was a chameleon, who had taken the devil’s name without hesitation.
‘Did you ever get an explanation for what he’d done?’ she asked. ‘Why he’d killed those children?’
David sighed.
‘Not really. Back in those days people weren’t so fond of psychological analysis as they are now, but he was obviously sick. It would be absurd to think anything else.’
‘We knew so little about his past,’ Gali said. ‘Both his parents died in the Holocaust; only Avital survived. Very few children came out of the concentration camps alive, but he was one of them. He was four years old when the war ended, and he was placed with foster parents who left Europe and came to Israel. I have no idea what that kind of start in life does to a person, but it’s obvious that he too was badly damaged.’
It was hard to disagree. Fredrika had just one more question.
‘Who was the boy who survived? Does he still live here?’
Gali turned and started walking back towards her house.
David didn’t move, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Fredrika.
At that moment she realised what he was going to say.
‘It was Gideon,’ he said. ‘Gideon was the Hunter’s last victim. It was Gideon who put Saul’s father in prison.’
Twice he had been to her apartment block. On both occasions he had seen the tall man emerge with the girls. On the Sunday they had gone to Vasa Park, on the Monday to day care. But he had seen no sign of Eden, which led Efraim Kiel to conclude that she had gone away.
And that worried him. Because Eden ought to be shaken up by what had happened, by the fact that he now knew he was the father of her children, yet she had taken the risk of leaving her family alone. Admittedly her husband looked more than capable of defending his children if he had to. Efraim had seen him once before, in London. It had been a bad idea. Feeling over-confident, Efraim had gone to Eden’s house. He had been standing in the street when they came out hand in hand.
Eden had watched him to the very last second. That was when he realised she had fallen in love with him.
But right now Efraim had bigger problems than Eden. The woman who was following him was one of them. She wasn’t sticking to the rules. She wasn’t keeping out of the way. And what the hell was she doing in Stockholm? Efraim couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had seriously misjudged the situation. Made a mistake, in fact.
Or several mistakes.
Because now he was caught up in an unpleasant dilemma, and he couldn’t see a way out.
I have to get out of this country. Fast.
But that wouldn’t solve the problem of the Paper Boy. There were certain things you couldn’t run away from, however much you wanted to.
He also had to work out what to do with the girl, Polly. Time was running out, he had to act.
They called when he was in his hotel room getting changed. He had walked over to Torsgatan in the hope of spotting the woman he had followed the previous day, but instead he had seen the police entering the building. Plain clothes officers, instantly recognisable to Efraim’s trained eye. Right in front of the Säpo goons, who were also watching the woman’s apartment. He couldn’t understand why Säpo and the police apparently didn’t know about each other; why weren’t they working together?
His phone rang as he was pulling on his jeans. He stopped dead. It was his dedicated work mobile, the one only his employer knew about.
‘Yes?’
‘Can you talk?’
‘Yes.’
His boss got straight to the point.
‘We have a problem. There’s a Swedish police officer over here asking questions about the Paper Boy.’
He had been expecting this, and had an answer ready.
‘It’s a different Paper Boy,’ he said. ‘Not the one you’re thinking of.’
‘Excuse me – there’s more than one?’
His boss sounded irritated.
‘Yes. The original. A child killer from a kibbutz outside Netanya. And then there’s the one both you and I are familiar with,’ Efraim said.
‘And it’s the first one the Swedish police are interested in?’ his boss said with a certain amount of relief.
‘I think we can assume so. There’s no reason to believe they would know about the Paper Boy on the West Bank.’
It sounded as if the boss was tapping away on his keyboard.
‘Nothing would make me happier than to be absolutely certain you’re right,’ he said. ‘But there are complications.’
‘Like what?’
‘The Swedish police have also been asking questions about Mona Samson. If you’re not familiar with the name, let me inform you that she used to be known as Nadia Tahir. Now do you understand what’s worrying me?’
Efraim didn’t answer immediately; he wasn’t sure what to say.
Oh yes, I knew that Nadia had changed her name.
‘They don’t know what they’re asking about,’ he said. ‘Believe me, the only Paper Boy they’re interested in is the child killer.’
‘I still think they’re too bloody close.’
Efraim went over to the window and gazed out at the wintry landscape.
‘I made it clear to our friends in the police in Jerusalem that they must stay away from the Paper Boy,’ his boss went on. ‘That his fate was a matter for the Israeli security service and no one else. Not our own police force, and definitely not the Swedes. I’m aware that I humiliated them. My actions may well have had a negative effect on the way in which they subsequently dealt with their Swedish colleagues, but to be honest I don’t really care.’
Efraim watched a mother and two children on the other side of the street. The little ones kicked at the snow, laughing as it swirled around their feet.
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ he said distractedly.
The Stockholm police had surprised him with their creativity, travelling all the way to Israel to ask questions about the Paper Boy. And Nadia, or Mona as she was calling herself these days. Efraim knew perfectly well that his own behaviour had been less than cautious. It wouldn’t surprise him if the police started asking questions about him too.
Perhaps he should send them off in another direction.
A plan began to take shape. It wasn’t pretty, but nor was the reality he had to deal with.
‘Is it Alex Recht who’s gone to Israel?’