Buried Angels (31 page)

Clasping his hands in prayer, he gazed up at the sky. He prayed for the strength to carry on his heritage, to be able to cope with Sebastian and the past that now threatened to destroy what he was planning to accomplish. The years had passed so swiftly, and he’d been good at forgetting. A man could create his own past. He had wanted to erase that particular part of his life, and he wished that Sebastian had done the same.

Josef got up, brushing off the granite dust from his trousers. He hoped that God had heard his prayers, in this place that symbolized both what might have been and what was now about to be built. From this stone he would create knowledge, and from that knowledge would come understanding and peace. He would pay off the debt to his ancestors, to the Jews who had been tormented and oppressed. Later, when his mission was complete, the shame would be erased for good.

Erica’s mobile rang, but she didn’t pick up. It was her publisher, and no matter what the reason for the call, it would require more time than she had at the moment.

For the hundredth time she looked around her work room. She hated the feeling that someone had been in here, snooping amongst things that she considered strictly private. Who could it have been? And what was he or she looking for? She was so lost in her own thoughts that she flinched when she heard the front door open and close.

Quickly she ran out of the room and down the stairs. Patrik and Gösta were standing in the front hall.

‘Hi! What are you doing here?’

Gösta evaded her eye and looked very uncomfortable. Their secret agreement did not seem to be something he could accept with equanimity, and she couldn’t resist teasing him a bit.

‘I haven’t seen you in a while, Gösta. How are things?’ She could hardly conceal her smile as she watched him turn bright red. Even his earlobes were pink.

‘Hmm … fine,’ he muttered, staring at his shoes.

‘Everything okay here?’ asked Patrik.

Erica’s expression instantly turned serious. For a moment she’d managed to forget that someone had probably been inside their house. She realized that she ought to inform Patrik of her suspicions, but so far she had no proof. It was lucky he hadn’t answered his phone when she rang earlier. She knew how upset he got whenever anything affected his family. It was possible that he might send her and the children to stay somewhere else if he thought that somebody had broken into their home. So she decided not to say anything for the time being, despite the sense of unease that was nagging at her. It was all she could do to keep from glancing at the veranda door, as if at any moment someone might step inside again.

She still hadn’t answered Patrik’s question when Kristina came up from the laundry room with the children in tow.

‘What are you doing home, Patrik? Do you know what happened earlier? I practically had a heart attack. I was standing in the kitchen, making pancakes for the children, when I caught sight of Noel tottering towards the street as fast as his little legs could carry him, and I have to tell you that I caught him in the nick of time. He could have come to serious harm if I hadn’t been on hand. You must remember to shut all of the doors properly, because those little ones are fast. Something terrible might happen, and then you’d regret it for the rest of your life …’

Erica was staring at her mother-in-law, waiting to see if she was ever going to pause to draw breath.

‘I forgot to close the veranda door,’ she told Patrik without meeting his eye.

‘Okay, good advice, Mamma. We’ll have to be extra careful now that the twins are starting to get around on their own.’ He gathered up the boys, who had come rushing towards their father, throwing themselves into his arms.

‘Hi, Uncle Gösta,’ said Maja.

Gösta turned beet red again and gave Erica a desperate look. But Patrik seemed not to notice anything because he was busy playing with his sons.

After a moment he glanced up at Erica.

‘We actually dropped by to pick up my mobile. Have you seen it?’

Erica pointed towards the kitchen. ‘You left it on the bench this morning.’

Patrik went to get the phone. ‘I see you tried to call me. Was it anything special?’

‘No, I just wanted to say that I love you,’ she said, hoping he wouldn’t see through her white lie.

‘I love you too, sweetie,’ said Patrik distractedly as he studied the display. ‘I’ve got five missed calls from Annika. I’d better ring her and find out what’s up.’

Erica tried to eavesdrop on his conversation, but Kristina was chattering non-stop with Gösta so she caught only a few words. When Patrik was done with the call his expression told her it was bad news.

‘A shooting on Valö. Someone fired into the house. Anna is out there too. Annika said she was the one who rang the station.’

Erica’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Anna? Is she okay? Was she hurt? Who …?’ She could hear how incoherent she sounded, but the only thing she could think of was that something might have happened to Anna.

‘From what I understand, no one was hurt. That’s the good news.’ He turned to Gösta. ‘The bad news is that Annika was forced to ring Mellberg when she couldn’t reach us.’

‘Mellberg?’ said Gösta, his expression dubious.

‘Yes. So we’d better get out there as fast as we can.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re going out there if somebody’s shooting,’ said Kristina, putting her hands on her hips.

‘Of course we are. That’s my job,’ said Patrik, annoyed.

Kristina gave an offended snort, tossed her head, and went into the living room.

‘I’m coming with you,’ said Erica.

‘Not on your life.’

‘If Anna is there, I’m coming.’

Patrik shook his head. ‘There’s some lunatic shooting at people out there. No way I’m letting you come!’

‘The place will be crawling with police, so what could possibly happen? I’ll be perfectly safe.’ She began tying the laces on her white trainers.

‘And who’ll take care of the kids?’

‘I’m sure Kristina can stay here and mind them.’ She stood up and gave him a look that said it would do no good to protest.

On their way down to the boat, Erica felt her concern for her sister growing with every heartbeat. Patrik could sulk as much as he liked: Anna was her responsibility.

‘Pyttan? Where are you?’ Percy said in surprise as he walked through the flat. She hadn’t told him that she was going anywhere.

They’d come to Stockholm for a few days to attend a friend’s sixtieth birthday celebration, an event they didn’t think they could miss. Countless members of the Swedish aristocracy were bound to turn up for the occasion, along with some VIPs from the business world – although they weren’t necessarily considered VIPs at such gatherings. The hierarchy was firmly established, and being the CEO of one of the biggest corporations in Sweden counted for nothing if the individual in question didn’t have the proper background, the proper surname, and hadn’t attended the proper schools.

Percy met all of the above criteria. Until recently, he’d never given it a second thought. His social standing had been part of his life, something he took for granted. The problem was that he now risked becoming a count without a manor, and that would have dire consquences. He wouldn’t land as far down the social ladder as the nouveau riche, but he would definitely find himself demoted.

In the living room he stopped in front of the drinks cart to pour himself a tumbler of Mackmyra Preludium, which cost almost 5,000 kronor a bottle. If he had to resort to drinking Jim Beam whisky, he might as well take his father’s old Luger and shoot himself in the head.

What weighed on him most was the knowledge that he had failed his father. He was the eldest son and had always received preferential treatment. And the old man had never made any bones about it. In a matter-of-fact tone, without any show of emotion, he had told his two younger children, ‘Percy is special. He’s the one who will take over one day.’ Secretly Percy had felt a certain glee whenever the old man put his siblings in their place. It made up for the knowledge that his father considered him weak, timid, and spoiled rotten. Perhaps it was true that his mother had been overly protective towards him, but he had been born two months premature, so small and frail that he was not expected to survive. For the first and last time in his life, Percy had shown great resilience. Against all odds, he had lived, though his health remained fragile.

He gazed out across Karlaplan. The flat had a beautiful bay window facing the open square with the fountain. Holding his whisky glass, Percy watched the swarms of people below. In the winter, the square was deserted, but now the benches were fully occupied, and scores of children were playing, eating ice cream, and enjoying the sunshine.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and listened intently. Was that Pyttan? She’d probably nipped out to do some shopping; he only hoped that the bank hadn’t put a hold on their credit cards. What sort of society was he living in, anyway? Demanding an entire fortune in taxes. Those bloody communists. Percy tightened his grip on the whisky glass. Mary and Charles would relish his situation if they knew the extent of his financial problems. They were still spreading their lies about how he had evicted them from their home and robbed them of what was rightfully theirs.

Suddenly he found himself thinking about Valö. If only he’d never ended up there. Then none of it would have happened – the things he had decided not to think about, although he couldn’t stop the ghastly images from seeping into his thoughts on occasion.

At first he’d thought it an excellent idea to change schools. The atmosphere at Lundsberg had become unbearable after he’d been singled out as one of the boys who had watched as a couple of bullies forced the school’s scapegoat to drink a big glass of laxative right before the closing ceremonies in the auditorium. The boy’s white summer clothes had been stained brown all the way up his back.

After that incident the headmaster had summoned Percy’s father to Lundsberg. Anxious to avoid a scandal, he hadn’t gone so far as to expel Percy, but he’d made it clear that the boy would have to continue his studies elsewhere. The old man tried to argue that Percy had merely been a spectator, and surely that couldn’t be considered a crime? But in the end he’d admitted defeat, and after discreet enquiries he had decided that Rune Elvander’s boarding school on Valö would be the best option. In truth, Percy’s father would have preferred to send him abroad, but for once his mother had put her foot down. So Percy had been enrolled in Rune’s school, and that was how he’d ended up haunted by dark memories that he struggled to suppress.

Percy took a big swig of the whisky, hoping it would dilute the humiliation that threatened to overwhelm him, and surveyed his surroundings. Pyttan had been given free rein to handle the interior decorating. This sort of rustic, white-painted furniture might not be his taste, but as long as she didn’t touch the rooms in the manor, she could do whatever she liked with the flat. The manor had to remain exactly as it had been during his father’s and grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s time. It was a matter of family honour.

The vague sense of uneasiness grew stronger as he went into the bedroom. Pyttan ought to be home by now. They were due to attend a cocktail party that evening, and she usually started getting ready for social events early in the afternoon.

He set his glass on Pyttan’s night table and then opened the doors to her wardrobe. A few coathangers swayed in the sudden draught; other than that, the wardrobe was empty.

No one would believe that only an hour ago someone was shooting at people out here, thought Patrik as he pulled into dock. The whole place seemed unnaturally quiet and calm.

Before he had even managed to tie the mooring line, Erica jumped out of the boat and began running towards the house. With Gösta following close behind, Patrik took off after her. But she was moving so fast that he couldn’t keep up, and when he entered the house, he found her with her arms around Anna. Tobias and Ebba were huddled together on the sofa, and next to them stood Mellberg and Paula.

Patrik had no idea why she was there, but he was grateful. At least now he could expect to hear a sensible account of what had happened.

‘Is everyone okay?’ he asked, going over to Paula.

‘Everybody’s fine. They’re all a little upset, especially Ebba. Someone fired shots through the kitchen window when she was in there alone. We haven’t seen anything to indicate that the shooter is still in the vicinity.’

‘Have you phoned Torbjörn?’

‘Yes, his team is on the way. But you might say that Mellberg has already begun the forensic examination.’

‘That’s right. I found the bullets,’ said Mellberg, taking out a plastic bag containing two bullets. ‘They weren’t embedded very deep in the wall, and it was easy to prise them out. Whoever did the shooting must have been a good distance away because the bullets had lost so much speed by the time they entered the wall.’

Patrik felt anger surge inside of him, but the last thing he wanted was to create a scene. There would be plenty of time later to have a serious talk with Mellberg about the rules that needed to be followed when investigating a crime scene.

He turned to Anna, who was wriggling out of Erica’s arms. ‘Where were you when this happened?’

‘I was upstairs,’ she replied, pointing. ‘Ebba had gone down to the kitchen to make coffee.’

‘What about you?’ Patrik asked Tobias.

‘I was in the cellar. I’d come back from the mainland and was fetching some more paint. I’d only got as far as the bottom of the cellar stairs when I heard a bang.’ His face was pale under the suntan.

‘When you arrived, did you see an unfamiliar boat at the dock?’ asked Gösta.

Tobias shook his head. ‘No, just Anna’s.’

‘And you haven’t spotted any strangers around?’

‘No, none.’ Ebba was staring straight ahead, as if dazed.

‘Who would do something like this?’ Tobias asked Patrick. ‘Who is after us? Do you think it has anything to do with the card that I gave you?’

‘I’m afraid we don’t know.’

‘What card?’ asked Erica.