two
children! Annika let the picture drop to her lap. She didn't know how or why, but somehow this was of vital importance; she felt it inside. A child couldn't disappear. This boy exists somewhere and was sure to have a thing or two to tell about his mom Christina.
She put the pictures back in the envelope, got to her feet and went over to the head archivist.
"I'd like to take this with me," she said.
"Sure, just sign this," he said without looking up.
Annika signed for the picture envelope and walked back through the corridor to her room. She had a feeling this would be a long afternoon.
* * *
The press release about Evert Danielsson's resignation was sent to the news agency TT at 11:30 A.M. After that, the Olympic Secretariat's press department faxed it first to all major newspapers, the morning broadsheets, and TV, then the radio, the evening tabloids, and the bigger local newspapers in descending order of importance. Danielsson wasn't a major player in the Olympics so the editors around the country didn't exactly fall on the information. Forty minutes after the release reached TT at Kungsholm's Square, a brief item was added to their news schedule about the head of the Olympic Secretariat leaving his current post to deal with the repercussions of Christina Furhage's death.
Evert Danielsson sat in his office while the fax machines rustled in the background. He would keep his office until his new assignment had been sorted out. His initial happiness at the wording of the press release was gone. Reality had set in. The anguish was beating like a hammer inside his forehead. He couldn't focus long enough to read a whole sentence in a report or a newspaper. He was waiting for the wolves to set upon him, for the frenzy to begin. He was fair game now; the mob would soon be snapping at his legs. But to his surprise, the phone wasn't ringing.
Somewhere inside him he'd expected the situation to be similar to the one after Christina's death, when all the telephones in the office had been ringing throughout the day. They didn't. One hour after the release had gone out, the "highbrow" broadsheet called for a comment. He heard his voice sound completely normal as he said he saw this more as a promotion and that someone had to bring order in the chaos that Christina Furhage's death had caused. The reporter had been satisfied with that. His secretary came in, had a little cry, and asked if she could get him anything. Coffee? A cookie? Maybe a salad? He said no, thank you, he wouldn't be able to get it down. He gripped the desk and sat waiting for the next call.
* * *
Annika was on her way down to the canteen to get something to eat when Ingvar Johansson came walking toward her with a paper in his hand.
"Isn't this one of your guys?" he said, handing her a press release from the Olympic Secretariat. She took it and read it.
" 'One of my guys' is putting it a bit strongly," she said. "He's answered the phone when I've called. Why, do you think we should do something with it?"
"I don't know, I thought it might be good for you to know."
"Sure. Anything else going on?"
"Not in your line of business," he said and walked off.
Asshole, Annika thought. She walked over to the cafeteria instead of the canteen. She wasn't really hungry anyway. She bought a pasta salad and a Christmas
must,
the special Swedish Christmas soft drink, and brought it back to her room. Annika ate the salad in four minutes flat, went back to the cafeteria, and bought another three bottles of
must.
She was into the second one when she dialed the Olympic Secretariat and asked to speak to Evert Danielsson. He sounded distant. He said that he really saw the change as a promotion.
"So what will you be doing?" Annika asked.
"That isn't quite decided yet," Evert Danielsson replied.
"So how do you know it's a promotion?"
The man at the other end went quiet.
"Well, eh, I don't see it as being fired," he finally said.
"Well, have you been?" Annika said.
Evert Danielsson reflected.
"It depends on how you look at it," he said.
"I see. Did you resign?"
"No, I did not."
"So whose was the decision that you should change jobs? The board's?"
"Yes, they need someone to bring order in the chaos after…"
"Couldn't you have done that in your capacity as head of the Secretariat?"
"Well, yes, of course."
"By the way, did you know that Christina Furhage had a son?"
"A son?" he said, confused. "No, she had a daughter, Lena."
"Well, she had a son as well. Do you know where he is?"
"I haven't got a clue. A son, you say? Never heard of him."
Annika paused and thought for a moment. "Okay," she resumed, "do you know which of the bosses at the Secretariat had an affair with a woman who had to leave seven years ago?"
Evert Danielsson felt his chin drop.
"Where did you get that information?" he said when he'd collected himself.
"From a news item in the paper. Do you know who it was?"
"Yes, I do. Why?"
"What happened?"
He thought for a moment, and then said: "What do you really want?"
"I don't know," Annika said, and Evert Danielsson thought she sounded perfectly sincere.
"I guess I just want to know how it all hangs together."
Annika was surprised, to say the least, when Evert Danielsson asked her to come over to the Secretariat so they could have a chat.
* * *
Berit and Patrik still hadn't arrived when Annika set out for Hammarby Dock.
"I'm on my cellphone," she said to Ingvar Johansson, who gave a curt nod.
She took a taxi and paid with her card. The weather was awful. All the snow had been washed away by the rain and left the ground in a state somewhere between mudhole and lake. Hammarby Dock was a sad part of town, with its empty, half-finished Olympic Village, gloomy offices, and busted stadium. The mud was flowing freely as the shrubs and flowerbeds planted last summer hadn't yet taken root. Annika jumped across the worst puddles but still got mud on her pant legs.
The reception area of SOCOG was spacious, but the offices inside were remarkably small and plain, Annika thought. She compared them with the only other administrative complex she was familar with, the Association of Local Authorities where Thomas worked. Their premises were nicer and more practical. The Secretariat was almost spartan: white walls, plastic floor, strip lights everywhere in the ceiling, white chipboard bookshelves, desks that could be from IKEA.
Evert Danielsson's office was halfway down a long corridor. It wasn't much bigger than the office clerks', something Annika found a bit odd. A sagging couch, a desk, and some bookcases, that was all. She had thought the head of a secretariat would have mahogany furniture and a window office.
"What makes you think Christina had a son?" Evert Danielsson said and invited her to sit on the couch.
"Thanks," Annika said, sitting down. "I have a picture of him."
She pulled off her coat but decided not to take out a pad and pen. Instead she took a closer look at the man in front of her. He was sitting at his desk, holding on to the desk firmly with one hand— it looked a bit strange. He was around fifty, with a good head of steely gray hair and quite a pleasant face. But his eyes were tired, and he had a cheerless line around his mouth.
"I have to say I find that highly unlikely," he said.
Annika pulled out a scan of the Furhage family photograph from her bag. She had returned the original to the archive since it wasn't allowed to leave the building, but nowadays you could scan a picture and have a paper copy within a minute. She handed the picture to Evert Danielsson who looked at it with obvious surprise.
"Well, I'll be damned…" he said. "I had no idea."
"Of the husband or the child?"
"Either, actually. Christina didn't talk about her private life."
Annika waited in silence for the man to continue. She didn't quite understand why he had asked her to come there. He was fidgeting in his chair. Then he said:
"You were asking about the secretary who got fired."
"Yes, I found a short piece about it in the archive. But there was no mention of her being a secretary or about being fired. All it said was she had worked here and had to go."
Evert Danielsson nodded. "That's how Christina wanted it. But Sara was an excellent secretary. She would doubtless have done well if it hadn't been for…"
The man fell silent.
"There is a rule within the Olympic organization saying that employees in the same workplace are not allowed to have a relationship," he continued. "Christina was adamant about it. She said it had a disruptive effect, disturbed people's focus, divided their loyalty. It subjected the others in the team to unnecessary stress; it made them play favorites."
"Who was the man?" Annika asked.
Evert Danielsson sighed heavily.
"It was me."
Annika felt herself raising her eyebrows.
"And whose rule was it?"
"Christina's. It applied to everyone."
"Still?"
Evert Danielsson let go of his desk.
"I don't know, actually. But one thing I
do
know. It's completely irrelevant to me now."
He covered his face with his hands. He was crying again. Annika waited in silence while the man collected himself.
"I really loved Sara, but I was married," he finally said, lowering one hand onto his lap and gripping the desk with the other. His eyes were dry but slightly red.
"You're not now?"
He gave a short laugh.
"Oh no. Someone told my wife about Sara, and Sara dropped me when I couldn't see to it that she could keep her job. I lost my wife and kids and lover at the same time."
He fell silent for a while and then went on, almost as if speaking to himself:
"Sometimes I wonder if she seduced me to forward her career. When it was clear I was dragging her down, she dumped me like a hot brick."
He gave another quick, bitter little laugh.
"So maybe she wasn't all that terrific, after all," Annika ventured.
He looked up.
"No, perhaps not. But what are you going to do with this? Are you going to write about it?"
"Not at the moment," Annika said. "Maybe never. Would you mind if I did?"
"I don't know, it would depend on what you wrote. What are you after, really?"
"Why did you ask me to come here?"
He sighed.
"There's so much that comes to the surface on a day like this. Thoughts and feelings. It's chaotic. I've been here since the beginning, there's so much I could tell…"
Annika waited. The man stared at the floor, lost in his own thoughts.
"Was Christina a good boss?" she asked in the end.
"She was a prerequisite for my being in this post," Evert Danielsson said, letting go of the desk. "Now she's not here any longer, and I'm finished. I think it's time for me to go home now."
He rose and Annika followed. She put her coat back on, hung her bag over her shoulder, shook his hand, and thanked him for seeing her.
"By the way, where was Christina's office?"
"Didn't you see it? Right behind the entrance. I'll walk you out and I can show you."
He put on his coat, wrapped a scarf around his neck, picked up his briefcase, and looked pensively at his desk.
"Today I don't need to bring a single paper with me."
He switched out the lights and left the office with his empty briefcase, conscientiously locking the door behind him. He popped his head in next door and said:
"I'm off now. If anyone calls you can refer them to the press release."
They walked side by side down the white corridor.
"Christina had several offices," he said. "You could call this her everyday office. Two of her secretaries were based here."
"And Helena Starke?" Annika queried.
"Her enforcer, you mean. Right, her office is next to Christina's," Evert Danielsson said, rounding the corner. "Here it is."
The door was locked, and the man sighed. "I don't have the key," he said. "Well, it's nothing special, a corner office with windows facing in two directions, a large desk with two computers, a couch and chairs and a coffee table…"
"You'd expect something grander," Annika said and recalled an archive picture from a magnificent palatial room with a period desk, dark wooden panel walls, and chandeliers.
