Hostage (15 page)

‘Listen to me, Zakaria. Right now, several hundred people are being held hostage on a plane thirty thousand feet up in the air. We have reason to believe that the person who is behind all
this is on board that plane. And we believe there is a risk that this will end in tragedy.’

She looked out of the small window. It was just possible to sense the grey, overcast sky outside.

‘And the really bad news as far as you’re concerned is that it won’t make any difference. You’re going home, Zakaria. I was informed just an hour ago that the government
will not revise its decision. It cannot and will not negotiate with terrorists. If you want to stay in Sweden, you’ll have to offer us something better than a hostage scenario.’

Zakaria burst out furiously: ‘How many times do I have to tell you, this is nothing to do with me!’

Eden shrugged.

‘As I’ve already said, it doesn’t make any difference. What I’m trying to explain to you is that if some close friend or relative of yours is sitting on that plane, then
that person is risking death or a lengthy prison sentence for nothing. So you would be doing them a great service by co-operating with us.’

‘That’s the second time you’ve mentioned co-operating,’ Zakaria said.

‘And I shall carry on mentioning it,’ Eden said. ‘It’s a good idea.’

Zakaria dropped his cigarette into the coffee cup. ‘What’s in it for me?’

‘That’s something we can discuss, of course. Have you any idea who might be behind this mess?’

Zakaria shook his head. ‘I haven’t a clue. I don’t know anyone who’s capable of something like this. I don’t move in that kind of circle.’

‘Oh, please,’ Eden said. ‘We’ve already dealt with all that. You’ve seen our surveillance footage, heard our phone tap material. You know that we know who your
friends are.’

Zakaria stared at Eden, then burst out laughing. But his eyes were full of sorrow.

‘You are fucking unbelievable. You sit there with your stupid photograph and leap to conclusions that put every conspiracy theory about Elvis in the shade. You have nothing,
nothing
that proves I was involved in planning a terrorist attack with Hassan and Ellis.’

‘I think I have a great deal,’ Eden said. ‘Not only did you collect that package . . .’

‘I’ve told you, I didn’t know what was in it!’

‘. . . but your friend Ellis was kind enough to tell us that you were involved.’

The look Zakaria gave her was poisonous.

‘Just think about it,’ Eden said, leaning towards Zakaria. ‘You could make the difference between life and death for several hundred people. If you’re really not like
Ellis and Hassan, you shouldn’t have any objections to helping us in our investigation. Who could be behind this?’

Zakaria scratched his head. He looked tired. When he glanced up and met Eden’s gaze, she felt sorry for him for the first time.

‘I don’t know anything about this. Nothing at all.’

And she believed him.

Shit.

She sat still for a little while longer. Her colleague didn’t move either; he seemed to have accepted his role.

Zakaria took a deep breath. ‘You have to listen to me,’ he said, pleading with her for the first time. ‘I am not involved in any form of terrorism. I know you were able to link
my phone to previous investigations, but as I’ve said a hundred times, that phone didn’t belong to me back then.’

Eden knew that had been his defence, but it didn’t really change anything.

‘But you wouldn’t tell us whose phone it was, who you bought it from. And in court, you suddenly said that you didn’t remember the name of the person who sold it to you, or
when you bought it. In which case, surely you have to understand that your story isn’t very convincing?’

Zakaria said nothing.

‘I presume you still don’t remember where you got your mobile from?’

Eden straightened up. Of course he wasn’t going to answer a question like that; it was all lies. Zakaria had no credibility left on this particular point; he had changed his story about
the phone so many times that it was impossible to take him seriously, whatever he said.

Still he didn’t speak; clearly the pleading was over for now.

‘No? Okay. You don’t remember, and I don’t have time to guess.’

Eden got to her feet.

‘Whenever you come up with the name of someone you think could be involved in the hijack, just tell the guard and he’ll arrange for one of us to come down and see you.’

She put the chair back in the corner.

‘Thanks for the chat.’

‘Thanks for the cigarette.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Eden said, and left the cell, with her colleague trailing behind her.

‘I
thought someone from Säpo was supposed to be coming with us?’ Fredrika said as they were driving along Sankt Eriksgatan towards
Torsgatan.

They were on their way to Solna, where Karim lived.

‘Apparently, he’s travelling in his own car,’ Alex replied.

They headed along Torsgatan towards the Solna Bridge and passed the Northern Station area, which had been transformed into a gigantic building site. There was talk of thousands of new homes and
offices, but for most people the final outcome seemed very distant. So far there was no sign of any construction, just a whole lot of dust.

‘What’s your impression of Säpo?’

Fredrika couldn’t help feeling curious. The people she had met at the two meetings she had attended so far had looked much as she had expected: well-dressed and talented. Eden Lundell was
different, however; she was too colourful, too obvious. There was nothing discreet about Eden’s appearance, and yet it seemed to Fredrika that she didn’t give away anything of
herself.

‘They’ve surprised me,’ Alex said. ‘I thought they’d be greyer, more boring.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ve had several colleagues who’ve moved across to Säpo over the years, and none of them has looked exactly full of the joys of spring. Admittedly, they’ve all said
they were happy in their new post, in spite of the fact that everything was so bloody secretive, but I could tell that things weren’t right somehow. Eventually, one of them got pissed at a
party and told me the truth – that he would never have stayed if the money hadn’t been so good. Although he did seem to be doing a particularly boring job, and I’m sure a lot of
them enjoy their work. Eden certainly seems to.’

Fredrika shuddered. A boring job was the worst thing in the world. She also had friends and former colleagues who had moved over to Säpo, and had reached approximately the same conclusion
as Alex. Not enough happened at Säpo, however bizarre that might sound, to make it worth applying for a post there.

Alex slowed down; they had arrived.

Karim Sassi lived in a house at the end of a terrace. Fredrika noticed that most of the windows lacked curtains, but there were large potted plants in several of them. She could see that the
small garden at the front of the house was well cared for, even though autumn had come early and mercilessly killed off everything that was pretty and flourishing in the borders.

They got out and were walking towards the front door just as another car appeared and parked behind Alex. A tall, dark man got out, raising a hand in greeting.

‘No one home?’ he asked.

‘We don’t know yet,’ Alex replied.

‘I can’t see any lights,’ Fredrika said.

The house was in darkness. She pulled her jacket more tightly around her; why did it always have to be so cold?

Alex rang the bell, and the shrill sound made them all jump. No one came, and Alex tried again.

The guy from Säpo shook his head.

‘There’s no one in,’ he said. He went down the steps and started peering in through the windows.

Alex followed him, but Fredrika waited at the bottom of the steps. She was too short to be able to see in properly.

This was a very pleasant area. Quiet. Plenty of greenery. Spencer, who had spent the whole of his adult life living in houses, had begun to question their decision to live in an apartment in the
city centre. The children needed a garden, he said. But Fredrika thought it was more about Spencer’s own needs, about his identity.

You can’t fool me, my darling.

Fredrika would rather stick pins in her eyes than live outside the city.

‘If you can find a house in the middle of town, then I’ll move,’ she had said.

They hadn’t really discussed the matter since then.

Alex and the guy from Säpo had finished inspecting the house. No one was home, it was as simple as that.

‘I suppose the kids are in school and the wife is at work,’ Alex concluded.

But Fredrika had the feeling there was more to it. The house had a deserted air about it, and she wondered if the family had actually gone away.

‘Don’t we have a phone number for the wife?’ she asked. ‘We could call her instead.’

‘We checked but we couldn’t find anything,’ Alex said. ‘That’s why we had to waste time driving over here. We don’t even have a landline number.’

As they headed back towards the cars, they saw a young woman with a buggy approaching Karim’s house. She looked worried, and slowed down before stopping a few yards away.

Alex went to meet her, and introduced himself and his colleagues. Fredrika thought he had a disarming manner when he spoke to people he didn’t know, whereas she had a tendency to become
more rigid, getting stuck in her professional role in a way that failed to inspire trust.

The woman told them she was a close friend of the Sassi family.

‘I live over there,’ she said, pointing. ‘We usually keep an eye on the post when one of us is away; I was just coming to empty their mailbox.’

So they had gone away. Fredrika felt a stab of disappointment, and she could see that Alex felt the same. Their colleague from Säpo remained expressionless.

‘Has something happened?’ the woman asked. ‘With the police being here, I mean.’

She looked even more worried as she went on.

‘Well, I mean of course something’s happened; such a lot seems to have gone on, both yesterday and today. It’s all very upsetting, what with this plane being hijacked and
everything.’

Strangely enough, she didn’t seem to have made a connection between the police’s visit to Karim’s house and the plane she had just mentioned, Fredrika thought. If they were
such good friends that they took care of each other’s post, then she must know that Karim was a pilot.

‘We need to get hold of Karim’s wife,’ Alex said. ‘It’s nothing serious, we’d just like to ask her one or two questions. I don’t suppose you have her
contact details?’

The neighbour started rummaging in her handbag.

‘Yes, I’ve got her mobile number here. She usually keeps her phone switched on even when she’s in Denmark.’

‘Denmark?’

‘Her parents live there; she was born and raised in Copenhagen.’

‘I see. Will she be there for long?’

‘They left this morning, and I think they’re staying all week.’

So they wouldn’t be able to see her face to face for several days, but that didn’t matter; they would have to call her instead.

We only have hours in any case.

Fredrik had to remind herself that this investigation had a time limit unlike any other. She pictured the plane as she silently worked out how much fuel was being used up every minute, every
hour. How could they possibly fix this in time?

‘You haven’t noticed anything unusual in the neighbourhood over the last few days?’ Alex asked casually.

The woman shook her head.

‘No, I can’t say I have.’

‘Good,’ Alex said. ‘In that case, I’m sure everything’s fine.’

He made a note of the mobile number and thanked the woman for her help.

As they were just about to walk away, she suddenly said, ‘Actually, there was something.’

It was always the same. There was usually something to remember if you just thought about it.

‘Tell me,’ Alex said.

‘I don’t know if this is of any interest to you, but when I came over to pick up the key this morning, I saw Karim’s youngest daughter talking to a girl I didn’t
recognise.’

‘It wasn’t another mother from somewhere around here?’

‘No, I don’t think so, but I have to confess that I can’t really tell you much about what she looked like. She was leaning forward, facing away from me. Karim’s daughter
was playing in the front garden, and the door was open. This girl was standing on the pavement, talking to the child over the fence. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if the little girl
hadn’t got so upset.’

Fredrika could see that Alex was digesting what he had heard. Could this have something to do with the investigation, or was it just an unrelated incident?

‘Why did she get upset?’

‘I don’t know. She suddenly raised her voice – Karim’s daughter, I mean. I didn’t really hear what she said.’

‘Was Karim home at the time?’

‘No, he’d already left for work.’

‘What happened next?’

‘Karim’s daughter ran back inside, and the girl walked away.’

Fredrika pictured the scene. The child in the garden and the girl on the street. The child running indoors, the girl walking away. Perhaps the child had annoyed the girl? Thrown something at her
as she was passing by?

A non-event that had no place in the investigation.

The frustration was growing. Nothing would be more dangerous than if they started wasting time chasing ghosts.

B
uster Hansson, the General Director of Säpo, had two problems. The first involved the unfortunate plane hijacking, of course, which looked as
though it was going to be a much more long-drawn out saga than he had first thought. And the second problem involved Eden Lundell.

Eden Lundell.

What a bloody name. Apparently, Eden was a common Jewish girl’s name, but Buster had never heard it before. The woman was as pretty as a picture, but she had a style and an attitude that
had already started to get on Buster’s nerves.

There had been some doubt about whether it was possible to appoint a Jewess as the head of counter-terrorism in Sweden. What signals would it send out when they were working with other
countries’ security services, particularly when it came to the Middle East? It had been decided at an early stage that Eden would attend as few meetings as possible. After all, she was the
head of the unit, and as such would not normally be involved in working parties. Of course it was impossible to keep Eden away from international contacts altogether. For example, within the CTG,
the EU’s intelligence group on counter-terrorism, Eden had to play her part. Within the EU her background was less of an issue; the French might possibly raise an eyebrow, but Buster
couldn’t have cared less about that.