Savage Spring (13 page)

Malin closes her eyes.

Zeke has seen the same thing as her. No doubt any more, it’s the Vigerö twins, the shattered, dead children.

The force of the bomb in the rucksack must have been directed towards the cashpoint and out towards the square. Not impossible for an expert to arrange.

The cycle was utterly destroyed. They didn’t find any twisted remnants outside the bank. Karin would have noted it if there had been any. It must have melted, and then been turned into atoms? In the dynamics of an explosion most things are possible.

Then the girls look at the cycle, at the rucksack, as if it’s making a noise, then everything turns black and silent.

Malin.

We see ourselves in our last tremulous seconds, but we can’t feel any pain.

It didn’t have time to hurt.

We’re happy about that now.

Malin, what are you going to do?

Are you worrying? You saw the man who left the bike outside the bank. It was him. He was the one who blew us up, who made us dead, because that’s what we are, we’re dead.

Everything went dark, Malin.

Then light and clear and cold. As if we can’t be free from ourselves until everyone is free.

You no longer understand what we mean, do you? All the lonely people, full of life, longing.

Malin.

What do you see when you see us get blown up? See us become dead?

The other children are alive, the captives, and we’re jealous of them for that.

But we don’t want to be where they are. It’s disgusting and horrid there, and the boy is crying and his big sister tries to comfort him, but it doesn’t work, Malin, it doesn’t work, because they’re so alone and scared of everything that’s beyond the darkness, scared of all the fury.

See us, Malin, see us as we were.

Soundless pictures, but Malin still thinks she can hear the murmuring of the two little girls. But she can’t work out what they’re saying.

So she shuts out the murmuring and listens to Sven Sjöman.

‘Consider this an official investigative meeting,’ he says. ‘We need to structure our work. We’ve been too unfocused so far. To start with: what are we looking at here?’

‘That could be the same man as in the video on the Economic Liberation Front website,’ Johan Jakobsson says. ‘Or someone else. The style of clothes is the same, though. And the build is similar.’

Then Johan falls silent, but the others realise that he wants to say something else.

‘That fucking bastard,’ he snarls. ‘I hope he burns in hell.’

All the other police officers look at him, ashamed that they’re thinking the same thing, surprised at Johan’s outburst, which is anything but characteristic of him, and Waldemar Ekenberg says: ‘He’ll burn.’

And then Malin sees Börje Svärd take a deep breath.

‘For God’s sake, guys, you need to tone this down a bit. We’re all upset at what’s happened, but this really isn’t helping.’

Then Sven speaks again.

‘So now we know that the bomber arrived by bike from the north, and heads off to the east. That gives us the chance to try to pinpoint other security cameras very precisely.

‘The process of tracking down recordings is already underway,’ he goes on. ‘And I want the pictures from those cameras inside the bank. And we need to get hold of the other people in the video if we haven’t already done so. We’ll have to put out a request for information from the public as well. Did anyone see a man in a black hooded top in the area? Notice him, recognise his face, maybe the way he looked? And obviously the technical team will have to analyse the video as well.’

Sven falls silent, suddenly seems tired of his own voice.

‘Any thoughts?’ he asks eventually.

‘It looks like he was alone,’ Zeke says. ‘But we don’t know if he had any accomplices nearby, or somewhere else. But presumably we can assume that the bomb was in the rucksack.’

‘We can,’ Sven says. ‘Karin’s going to confirm that. Let’s start with the Economic Liberation Front. There were pictures of banks in various towns on their website. I’ll make sure the police in those towns know, and can take the necessary precautions. I’m sure the Security Police will be doing the same, and I’ll get the computer guys in Forensics onto it. From now on they’re going to have to put all their resources into tracing the email to Daniel Högfeldt, the video, and the website.’

‘Are they going to contact YouTube to find out who uploaded the clip? And which IP address it came from?’ Johan asks.

‘I assume so. As you all understand, this new group is our primary line of inquiry. We need to dig them out, at all costs. In all likelihood the man outside the bank is a member of the group. Johan, have you got any ideas about known activists who could be behind something like this? Or the pattern at least, first the attack, then a website and threats?’

The other officers in the group turn expectantly to Johan, and Malin can see he looks worried.

‘Well, this is definitely not the work of right-wing extremists. It goes against their whole ideology. But I did come across a Sofia Karlsson during my search yesterday, a left-wing radical,’ he says. ‘A diehard vegan, and she’s done time for burning down a mink farm in Kisa. Twenty-five years old now. Back then, she and her accomplices used a similar method. They called themselves the Animal Guardians. I remember her from her interviews. She seemed pretty furious about almost everything, but simultaneously capable and intelligent. And evidently she lives in Linköping. We could always have a word with her as a first step.’

‘Good, Johan,’ Sven says. ‘Malin, Zeke, get onto that as soon as we’re finished here.

‘Anything else, Johan?’ Sven goes on, and Malin thinks how good it is that he’s in command, bringing all his experience and authority to bear.

‘From what I was able to find yesterday, she was really the only interesting one. But I’m happy to carry on looking.’

‘OK, carry on with that,’ Sven says.

‘What about the Security Police?’ Zeke says. ‘They ought to know something, what can we expect from them?’

‘Nothing,’ Karim says. ‘Absolutely nothing.’

‘They called earlier,’ Sven says. ‘I gave them what we had, but they had nothing for us. Or so they said.’

And before her Malin can see a dozen men dressed in suits. The nightmare image of the Security Police, sweeping in and ruining everything in their path with suspicions and wrong-headed, clumsy assumptions.

‘It’s nice not to have too much to do with them,’ Malin says, thinking: the bastards from the Security Police presumably think they’re better than a group of ordinary detectives in a provincial backwater.

She realises how foolish her thoughts are. Stop feeling inferior, Fors. You aren’t.

‘National Crime?’ Börje asks.

‘No, for fuck’s sake!’ Waldemar exclaims.

‘Not at the moment,’ Karim says. ‘Too many cooks.’

‘Let’s get on with analysing the video and the clip on YouTube.’

Then he falls silent. Stares out into the room as if he’s waiting for someone else to suggest something, but the other detectives remain silent.

‘Any other ideas of how to crack the mystery of the Economic Liberation Front?’

‘We could check the experts on domestic security in Swedish universities?’ Zeke says. ‘See if they know anything about the Economic Liberation Front?’

‘Good idea,’ Karim says. ‘I’ll get onto that.’

‘Anything else?’ Sven says. ‘We’ll just have to hope we get something once the public have seen the recording and the clip.’

Malin holds her breath.

Listens to the others breathing.

Knows they’re up against it now, that their chances are best during the first seventy-two hours of an investigation.

‘OK,’ Sven says. ‘That’s what we’ll do with the Economic Liberation Front. It could be a group, a single individual, or something else entirely. Well, are we all in agreement? We’ll just have to see what turns up. OK, now on to the general state of the investigation.’

Sven gives them a summary, as if he were telling them about a holiday or a conference in a luxurious country house.

None of the interviews with people at the scene, or those with minor injuries came up with anything of interest. But the number of people questioned could be expanded to cover anyone who saw anything unusual anywhere in the city centre. Neither the staff in the bank nor the branch manager seemed to have noticed anything particular. Some of the staff were still in shock, but they had all been questioned now.

And the Islamic line of inquiry.

Nothing had cropped up there. And the interview with the imam hadn’t led to anything. Maybe it had been a clumsy and over-hasty response. From now on caution and respect were the order of the day there, absolute caution.

‘I don’t want to have any accusations of racism in the media,’ Karim says when Sven stops talking.

‘He seemed very reasonable,’ Malin says. ‘And the mosque was full last night. They’re just as worried as everyone else.’

‘Good,’ Karim says. ‘But I’d like to point out that I still think it was right to talk to Al Kabari. He, if anyone, ought to know what the mood is among Linköping’s Muslim community.’

‘We’ll keep that line of inquiry open anyway,’ Sven says. ‘We can’t afford to drop anything as things stand.’

‘I agree. We can’t drop the Islamic angle. But even so, we know who did it now,’ Waldemar protests. ‘It has to be that bastard Liberation Front. Why would any innocent group claim responsibility for something where two girls were murdered?’

‘For the fun of it,’ Malin says, crossing her legs under the table.

‘That’s horribly cynical,’ Johan exclaims. ‘For the fun of it?’

‘Or to take the opportunity to focus attention on issues they think are important.’

‘Bollocks,’ Waldemar says. ‘We’ll have them soon enough.’

‘Any other lines of inquiry?’ Zeke wonders. ‘Biker gangs? Cashpoint raiders?’

‘We can drop the cashpoint idea,’ Sven says. ‘There’s nothing to suggest that was what it was. And the way things look at the moment, we’ve got no connection to any biker gangs.’

‘OK,’ Zeke says.

‘What about the explosives? Where could they have got hold of them? What sort was it, and what reagent did they use?’ Börje asks.

‘Karin is going to let us know. Soon. You and Waldemar can take a look into how they might have got hold of it,’ Sven says. ‘Have there been any thefts from munitions stores recently? Or construction companies that stock explosives? Can you buy anything online in Sweden? You seem to know a fair bit about that, Börje.’

‘I’m just an interested amateur,’ Börje says, putting his hands out. ‘
The Anarchist Cookbook
is bizarre, but it’s an entertaining read. It’ll be easier to track things down once Karin’s worked out what was involved.’

Outside the windows the doors of the nursery have opened.

Brightly coloured youngsters pour out.

They throw themselves at the various apparatus, giddy at their bodies’ capacity for movement.

Malin thinks of Tove, who must be in school at the moment, the way her movements are so completely different from these children’s, so languid, almost lethargic, yet still conscious and measured, unbelievably sexy to any boy of her own age. Then she thinks of her dad, probably clearing away the last remnants of the previous day’s gathering after the funeral.

And she thinks of her mum, who in all likelihood is ash now, and it occurs to her that they haven’t discussed what to do with the ashes. Are they going to scatter them somewhere? They didn’t do it immediately after the funeral, so Dad probably has the urn at home. Are they going to be scattered on the golf course in Tenerife? Or is she going to end up in the memorial grove where Malin sometimes goes when the sense of loss for something she’s not quite sure of gets too much for her.

Have I been suppressing something? she wonders again. And if so, what? But she has no time to linger on that thought before she is roused from her reverie by Sven’s voice, summarising what they know about the girls, and their mother, whose operation the previous day was a success, though she still isn’t out of danger.

‘We can’t talk to her yet, according to the doctor I spoke to,’ Sven says. ‘Tomorrow at the earliest. Possibly even later than that.’

‘You saw the video,’ Malin says. ‘The bomb could have been aimed at them. It was detonated, if they used remote control, when the girls had returned to the cashpoint.’

‘Hardly,’ Waldemar says. ‘That’s too much of a long shot.’

‘Malin, Waldemar’s right,’ Sven says. ‘We can assume that the family were innocent victims.’

‘Should we put a guard on Hanna Vigerö in the University Hospital?’

‘You heard what I said.’

Malin nods.

Thinks that the girls were probably just that: innocent victims. They were certainly innocent, no matter what the circumstances.

Then Waldemar says: ‘Those bastards could have spared the kids. If they wanted to. That’s obvious enough. But they wanted to prove they meant business.’

14

Time spares nothing and no one.

The clock on the dashboard says it’s eleven o’clock, and the radio news comes on as Zeke and Malin turn into Rydsvägen and glide slowly past the northern end of the old cemetery. The trees inside the cemetery wall seem eager to catch Malin’s attention. Their crowns are covered with little pink flowers that sway in the wind, and it seems to Malin that the flowers want to stay, hold on to the branches at all costs, even though it’s a hopeless battle.

You can’t fight against what you are.

Just ask someone who knows.

One thing that’s changed since she stopped drinking is that her intuition, what some people might call her visions, has become stronger. Especially in her dreams. As if the absence of alcohol makes her consciousness clearer, more receptive to things that are hard to explain.

It doesn’t scare her.

But she knows it scares a lot of people.

Instead she tries to open herself up to her perceptions, accept the gift of being able to see more, intuit more than other people do.