‘No, it’s a woman – Fredrika Bergman.’
Fredrika Bergman. Efraim had never heard of her, but now his curiosity had been aroused. And he was annoyed.
‘I assume you’ve been following the investigation in Stockholm?’ his boss said.
‘To a certain extent. It’s difficult to get hold of information without seeming too pushy. I don’t want to draw attention to myself.’
‘Very wise. But what worries me most of all is the murdered boys’ surnames.’
Efraim closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cold window pane. Remembered what the cool metal had felt like in his hands before he threw the gun into the Baltic Sea.
‘Eisenberg and Goldmann,’ he said.
‘It’s hardly a coincidence, is it? Gideon and Saul must be their fathers.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you still maintain this is about a different Paper Boy from the one we got to know on the West Bank?’
‘I don’t know. But the Paper Boy the Swedish police are asking questions about is an imaginary figure in a tale told in a couple of kibbutzim outside Netanya.’
‘Saul Goldmann and Gideon Eisenberg haven’t made contact with us, but surely they must see the connection?’
‘Presumably,’ Efraim said. ‘But once again – the murders have an equally clear link to the Paper Boy I referred to as the original.’
He outlined briefly what had happened to Gideon and Saul when they were young. He had only heard their story himself when they did their military service together. They had formed an unbeatable quartet: Efraim, Saul, Gideon and Daphne, who became Saul’s wife. It was Daphne who had confided in Efraim, explained why Gideon had so many terrible scars on his body, and told him about the role Saul’s father had played in the events of the past.
It had been Saul’s suggestion that they should call their source on the West Bank after their shared childhood trauma, and no one had objected.
‘I did actually know that story and how it had affected Gideon and Saul,’ his boss said when Efraim had finished. ‘But I didn’t know that the residents of the kibbutz had their own nickname for the murderer.’
He sighed, and went on: ‘I don’t like this. It stinks of revenge, and we can’t allow that.’
‘Saul and Gideon turned their backs on us,’ Efraim said. ‘I stayed, but they went away.’
‘I know, but we can’t set a precedent, looking the other way when someone attacks Israeli citizens in another country.’
‘Of course not.’
He waited, wanting the call to end.
‘The Paper Boy,’ his boss said. ‘By which I mean “our” Paper Boy. Do you have any idea where that person is right now?’
‘No.’
‘Do you think he’s involved in these murders?’
‘That would involve making the assumption that he’s in Stockholm, and I have no reason to believe that he is.’
‘But I have,’ his boss said, and Efraim froze. ‘Or at least I have information indicating that the person in question has travelled to Stockholm on a number of occasions over the past year. And has stayed for quite long periods.’
Breathe in, breathe out.
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘There was no reason why you should. But now things have changed. There’s one last thing I want you to do before you leave Stockholm, Efraim. I want you to track down the Paper Boy in order to confirm that he has nothing to do with these murders. Can you do that?’
Efraim sank down on the bed. That was exactly what he had been doing for the past few days.
But the Paper Boy found me before I found him.
‘No problem.’
‘Good. In that case I shall expect a rapid resolution of the matter.’
‘I’ll do whatever is necessary,’ Efraim said.
‘Excellent. If this really is about what happened in Gideon and Saul’s childhood, then I shall feel happier. Sorry for their sake, of course, but happier. Otherwise we have a major problem.’
And with those words he ended the call.
Efraim remained sitting on the bed, his mobile in his hand.
The Paper Boy refused to rest, refused to leave him in peace.
Which actually suited Efraim Kiel very well.
Because he had never loved anyone as much.
Like most other people, Eden Lundell had always assumed that when she had children, it would be with the love of her life. Ironically, that was exactly what she had done, in a way.
Because for several years, years she would prefer not to remember, Efraim Kiel had been just that. The biggest thing that had ever happened to her. The most overwhelming love affair. The very thought of how willingly she had accepted him made her feel sick.
She went straight to her office and closed the door when she got in just before lunch. Mondays always involved a long series of meetings, which she loathed. Meetings were for people who didn’t have enough to do. Eden’s agenda was always packed, and today she had no intention of turning up at a single meeting. She had more important things to think about.
A threat to her family.
Apart from Eden, only one person knew that Efraim was the father of her children.
And that was Efraim himself.
If it was Efraim who had murdered Simon Eisenberg and Abraham Goldmann, there was no reason to assume that he would attack his own daughters. But Eden was convinced the boys had been killed in revenge for the boy who had died on the West Bank, and she couldn’t see why that revenge shouldn’t encompass Efraim’s children too. After all, he had been there too when the boy died in the explosion.
Her heart was racing, exhaustion creating ghosts in her mind.
She told herself to calm down. Reminded herself that the only two people on earth who knew the truth about her daughters were her and Efraim.
Why would he have told anyone else?
And in such a short time.
She took off her jacket. Why could they never get the heating right in this place? Sometimes it was too hot, sometimes too cold. Today it was suffocating.
She ran a finger over one trouser leg, smoothing out a crease.
Her mother’s voice echoed faintly in her head:
‘You must always make sure you’re neat and tidy, Eden. That will get you a long way in life!’
As if her mother had got anywhere to speak of.
‘Your life has stood still ever since you got married, Mother dear.’
An assistant knocked on her door.
‘Yes?’
‘GD asked us to keep a lookout for you. He expressly said that he wanted to see you as soon as you came in.’
Did he indeed.
‘I’ll go and see him in a minute.’
The question was what she was going to say to him.
Everything Fred had told her was in confidence; she had to keep it to herself, even if it meant that the investigation ground to a halt. And even if it meant going behind GD’s back.
‘By the way,’ she said to her assistant. ‘I’d like you to book one of Säpo’s apartments for me, please.’
‘Have you joined the ranks of the homeless?’ her assistant said with a smile.
Eden forced herself to smile back.
No, I just want to make sure my family has somewhere to hide from a lethal killer.
‘We’re having some work done at home and we need a place to sleep for the next few days. I’d really appreciate it if you could sort that out for me.’
I’d really appreciate it. Please. Words that Eden often forgot, with predictable results.
Her assistant nodded and disappeared.
Eden followed her out of the office and headed for the lifts. She had decided to tell GD as little as possible. There was no logical reason to think that Efraim had anything to do with the murders; however, it still bothered her that he had been sent to Stockholm at the same time. She just couldn’t come up with a satisfactory explanation.
Which left her with another alternative: it really was pure chance that Efraim’s visit to Stockholm coincided with the murder of his former colleagues’ children.