The whole idea was sick, but it was logical in spite of that. It bothered Fredrika that both Gideon and Mona were dead; she couldn’t shake off the feeling that they hadn’t managed to reveal the whole truth about the murder of the two boys.
Another thing that bothered both Fredrika and Alex was Mona Samson’s role in the murders. The secretary at the Solomon Community was shown a picture of her, and confirmed that it was Mona who had delivered the chrysanthemum in a bag with a face on it. What had driven Mona to help Gideon? Could it really be just because she loved him?
‘I don’t understand what made her go up on that roof and try to shoot Polly Eisenberg,’ Fredrika said.
‘There’s so much we don’t understand,’ Alex said. ‘We don’t even know for certain that it was her. Gideon wasn’t very tall, remember. It could have been him up there; maybe Mona changed her mind and tried to save Polly. Someone must have taken her to Finland, after all.’
But Fredrika wasn’t happy. Regardless of whether or not Mona Samson had tried to kill Polly Eisenberg, she had shot Efraim Kiel and Eden’s husband and children. No one would commit crimes like that without a personal motive. Unfortunately, Polly didn’t remember anything about the person who had abducted her.
And so the quest for information continued. They tried turning the thumbscrews on the only person they had left.
Saul Goldmann.
But he consistently refused to talk about his past, about how he knew Efraim Kiel, about the work they had done, and what had happened to make him and Gideon leave Israel. He swore that he would have helped them if only he could have done so; he said that he was sure all this had no connection to his years in the military. Fredrika got the feeling that he was partly telling the truth, and that this was causing him considerable pain.
There was some light in the darkness: Peder Rydh had gone to the Labour Court, and was trying to get his job back. It looked as if he was likely to succeed. Alex and Fredrika didn’t often discuss it, but they were both hoping he would rejoin the team.
Fredrika was finding it difficult to sleep. The death of Eden Lundell’s daughter, and the boys who had died out on Lovön, gave her no peace.
The silence from the Israelis was deafening. The official line was that from their point of view, the matter had been resolved. The perpetrators were dead, and would claim no more victims. That was the important thing.
In the centre of everything that had happened stood Eden Lundell.
Fredrika couldn’t help feeling that she knew more than she was prepared to say. When questioned, she had said that she had met Efraim in London a few times, but that he had been no more than a passing acquaintance. She had no idea why he had died in her apartment, along with one of her daughters.
Her other daughter survived. So did her husband.
Fredrika knew that the family had moved abroad; perhaps that would help the healing process.
‘She seemed so worn down when we interviewed her,’ Fredrika said.
Alex glanced away, mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear.
On the evening when she walked away from the crime scene, they had found her at the hospital, by her daughter’s side. She had stayed there until the child regained consciousness.
Fredrika had seen Eden once more before the family moved away. They had met on Kungsholmsgatan. Eden was pale and gaunt, but calm. Almost serene.
And that was what eventually saved Fredrika Bergman’s nights: the fact that Eden, who had come so close to losing everything, seemed to be one of the few who knew why.
There were days when she didn’t cry. Days when they went on short outings, her daughter played, and her husband wasn’t tired or in pain. But those days were few and far between. As a rule she had to make do with brief periods of peace of mind. The nights were long and silent, the days equally long and light. She had begun to grow accustomed to a fragmented daily rhythm. When it came down to it, she could get by on just a few hours’ sleep at a time.
Israel had been Mikael’s idea, and this time Eden had said yes. They didn’t know how long they would stay.
Until they were whole again.
Until they could cope with everyday life.
Mikael said very little. Asked too few questions. Eden thought she would go under if she wasn’t given the opportunity to unburden herself.
When she brought it up and wanted to talk about what had happened, Mikael shook his head, withdrew into himself, said they could discuss it some other time. She told the police, and her parents, no more than necessary. The only person who pinned her down was her boss at Säpo.
‘This game stops right now,’ GD said. ‘You tell me what you know.’
But Eden kept her counsel.
‘You have to believe me when I tell you it’s over,’ she said. ‘There will be no further consequences.’
‘What the hell was Efraim Kiel doing in your apartment? You must realise that I can’t simply overlook such a thing, not when I know your history.’
She had gazed at GD for a long time.
‘How do you know I was telling the truth when I said that Efraim and I had an affair? How do you know I didn’t allow him to recruit me? How do you know I’m not exactly what you thought I was in the first place – a Mossad double agent?’
GD had looked at her sorrowfully.
‘I just know, Eden.’
At which point she had burst into tears yet again.
She had offered to resign, but GD had suggested she take a year’s leave, with immediate effect.
Dani was laid to rest the following week. If Eden so much as brushed against the memory of her daughter’s funeral, she broke down and wept for hours, particularly during the night. Sometimes she had to bury her face in the pillow in order to smother the scream that was trying to get out. The grief never loosened its grip, refused to release her.
Eden thought she understood what had gone on. The press wrote about Gideon Eisenberg and the woman who had been his lover. They made much of his past and his childhood experiences. But Eden knew better. The attack on her children confirmed that she had been right all along. The murders that had devastated the Solomon Community were related to the events on the West Bank all those years ago. The only thing she couldn’t work out was who Mona Samson was, and why she had followed Efraim to Eden’s apartment.
Eden could not leave these questions unanswered. On her second day in Israel she made contact with Mossad. She explained her business in one sentence, and was given an appointment to meet the man who had been Efraim Kiel’s boss.
‘I want to know why Mona Samson wanted Gideon Eisenberg and Saul Goldmann’s children dead,’ she said.
‘You’re asking for information that I am not at liberty to give you,’ he said. ‘You must realise that, even though I obviously have the greatest sympathy for you and your family in view of the tragedy that has befallen you, and the pain it has caused you. I really am very sorry for your loss.’
Eden had never been so close to killing another human being.
‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t go to the press with the whole thing,’ she said. ‘Or to my employers in Sweden.’
The man thought it over. For a long time.
‘You’re playing a dangerous game,’ he said eventually. ‘And I will allow you to win. But everything I tell you stays between us. I have a question for you first of alclass="underline" what was the connection between Efraim Kiel and your children?’
Eden accepted his rules without hesitation.
‘He was their father,’ she said.
She could see that the answer was unexpected, in spite of the fact that it should have been obvious, given the circumstances.