The Chosen

CONCLUSION

It wasn’t the coldest evening he had ever experienced, but it was the longest. He was hidden in the shadows behind the entrance to the underground station, which gave him a clear view of the stairs he was watching. If everything went as expected, he would soon have company. The thought of what he had to do filled him with horror.

It was only a question of time before she appeared.

Nadia.

The woman who had been recruited by Efraim for Mossad as a secret source on the West Bank. Who had been known as the Paper Boy. And who had given birth to Efraim’s child.

Benjamin.

He had reached the age of ten by the time he rushed into a house and activated an explosive device hidden under the floor.

He had been running away from Gideon and Saul, while Efraim stood to one side, phoning for reinforcements. He had never been able to forgive Gideon and Saul for what they had done. He had sworn that one day they would pay. The fact that they didn’t know Benjamin was his son and therefore wouldn’t understand why their sons had to die was irrelevant. Revenge was still necessary.

It had seemed so simple. If Efraim Kiel looked back, he had made only one mistake: he had told her what he intended to do.

‘Next year a decade will have passed,’ he had said. ‘And then I am going to go to Stockholm and end the lives of Gideon and Saul’s sons, in return for what they did to Benjamin.’

He had wanted to leave Gideon’s second child, Polly, out of the whole thing.

And that was where it had all gone wrong.

Because Efraim had told Nadia, who called herself Mona Samson these days, that there was another child. And she wanted him to take both, because she had no children left. The discussion had turned into a full-blown quarrel, but he had thought he had emerged as the victor. Until the day he received a message from the Paper Boy at his hotel.

He had been stupid. Unbelievably stupid. He realised that now. He had sent her a message before he left Israel, said he was on his way to Stockholm to put things right. That his plans were in place, the time had come.

He had hoped the message would bring her peace.

But it hadn’t.

She must have put a considerable amount of effort into her own preparations. Set up a new identity, created a dummy company. And, if you believed the media reports that had reached Israel by now, she had also embarked on a relationship with the father of one of the dead boys. They didn’t mention her name, but Efraim knew.

Nadia with Saul or Gideon. The very thought made him feel sick.

It couldn’t be true.

Efraim’s preparations had been rigorous and time consuming. He had got in touch with the boys via Super Troopers, an online forum he had heard about on a visit to Stockholm the previous autumn. If he hadn’t found them there, he would have contacted them some other way. He wanted to make sure they came along voluntarily the day he abducted them; he didn’t want to kill them on the spot. That would destroy half the point of the murders.

The rest of the operation had been relatively simple. Getting away from Lovön after shooting the boys hadn’t been a problem; the response from the authorities had been anything but rapid. The tracks left by the wheels of the van had obviously failed to lead the police in any particular direction, which didn’t really matter anyway. The vehicle had been stolen and fitted with false number plates. He had also used a car for the abduction itself, because he thought the boys would be less inclined to go with a stranger driving around in a van. Everything was possible, as long as you had patience.

But it seemed that Nadia hadn’t given up on the idea that Gideon deserved to lose both his children. At first Efraim couldn’t work out how she knew where he was staying, then he remembered that he had mentioned the Diplomat. A long, long time ago, when Benjamin was still alive and they still had a viable relationship. The first time Efraim visited Stockholm.

‘It’s right by the water,’ he had said. ‘You can see boats when you look out of the window.’

Why the hell had he gone back there?

The simple answer was that he liked it. The staff didn’t ask unnecessary questions, and they already knew him by the alias he usually used.

Unfortunately Nadia had also stumbled upon his alias; she had once heard him on the phone, booking a flight. He hadn’t noticed her until he had hung up. He should have thought about that incident when he was planning his trip to Stockholm, and he cursed his own carelessness. If she hadn’t known his alias, she wouldn’t have been able to play her little game.

He had been surprised that she had gone to the hotel and left him a message, but that was nothing compared to the fact that she had got into his room and found the gun he had acquired in order to kill the boys. He had trained her well in the skills needed to survive as a source on the West Bank for over ten years, and now he was paying a high price. She wasn’t a good enough shot to hit a small child from that distance, and as a consequence she had shot a teacher instead.

If only she had said something.

Then he would have got rid of the gun immediately, used a different one to shoot the boys.

Instead he had to live with the fact that all three victims had been shot with the same gun.

Whatever – they would never find it. It was resting safely at the bottom of the Baltic Sea.

A far more serious problem was his decision to save Gideon’s daughter, and that was only possible if he took her away. Therefore, Efraim had kidnapped Polly when she was in Tessin Park with her friend and the friend’s parents. He had given her a sedative, and she had been hidden in the van when he drove onto the ferry that would take him to Finland. The same van he had kept the boys in overnight on Lovön; he had to get rid of it anyway.

In Helsinki he had had to push the boundaries, make use of contacts he had developed through his job, contacts who agreed to look after the child until the danger was over. And to get rid of the van.

Perhaps he had already realised by that stage that he couldn’t stop the avalanche that had been set in motion. That it would crush everything in its path.

Including himself.

Suddenly he saw someone approach the doorway, peer inside, then step back.

The darkness swallowed her up before he had time to react, but he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. He wasn’t the only one watching the apartment block. Nadia was there too.

Efraim hunched his shoulders against the cold and waited for Nadia the Paper Boy’s next move.

Another late night at the office. It was almost half past nine. Shit. She really had meant to leave earlier, join her family in the temporary apartment. Not waste time in yet another meeting with GD, whose imagination appeared to be running riot about what she had been up to during her brief absence.

‘So you’re saying that Efraim Kiel has nothing to do with the murders?’ he said again.

‘In my opinion,’ Eden Lundell replied.

Yet again. They had already gone over all this at lunchtime, but GD had insisted on another meeting. Säpo had been closely following the police investigation into the murders.

‘But you’re not prepared to tell me what that opinion is based on?’

‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

GD was starting to look annoyed, which wasn’t a good sign. Eden was too tired to argue in a civilised manner. She had spent hours catching up with work since she got back from London, and now she just wanted to go home. She had also spoken to Alex Recht and Fredrika Bergman. The case had taken a new turn; it seemed that Gideon Eisenberg was the guilty party, and he had hanged himself in his own living room.

Fucking coward.

She was ashamed to admit that she felt a certain sense of peace at the thought that he was gone. At least he wouldn’t claim any more victims, thank God. Everything could get back to normal.

Or not.

Because Eden had made a decision. She had stopped smoking for good. A habit was a weakness, and she couldn’t afford any sign of frailty. And she was going to go on holiday with her family in March. The girls would soon be starting school, and there would no longer be any room for that kind of spontaneity.

‘I’m taking a week off in March,’ she said. ‘A family holiday.’

‘I didn’t think you went in for that kind of thing,’ GD said.

‘I do now.’

She didn’t even have the energy to sound defensive.

‘Okay, so if Efraim Kiel has nothing to do with the murders, then why can’t we find him?’

‘Because he’s better than us. Because he doesn’t want to be found.’

‘Why not? What’s he doing that he doesn’t want us to see?’

How was Eden supposed to know that?

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Mossad have got a nerve if they’ve started up a new operation in Stockholm,’ GD said. ‘I was very clear about our views on unauthorised intelligence activities.’

Eden suppressed a sigh.

‘He could be keeping a low profile for personal reasons. There doesn’t have to be a Säpo-related reason why he doesn’t want to be under permanent surveillance.’

GD’s expression was grim.

‘I’d feel better if we hadn’t lost the woman who was following him as well. Did I tell you we tracked her down to a place on Torsgatan? An office block.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

Eden was only half listening; in her mind she was already at home with Mikael.

Things will be different from now on. I promise.

‘In that case I haven’t mentioned that we haven’t seen her since. She just disappeared. Went into the building and never came out again.’

‘I assume she used a different exit. Or our surveillance guys missed her. That kind of thing does happen.’

GD ignored her comments. Eden wondered how come GD was better informed about the latest surveillance reports than she was. Officially Efraim Kiel’s case was being handled by the counter-espionage unit, but GD was obviously following developments in minute detail – possibly because he, unlike the head of counter-espionage, knew that she and Efraim had been an item.

‘We’ve been watching the block on Torsgatan,’ he went on. ‘The strange thing is, they said they were almost certain they saw police officers enter the building today, but our guys decided against making themselves known.’

Eden was immediately alert.

‘Were they from Alex Recht’s team?’

‘I don’t know. Counter-espionage were supposed to check as discreetly as possible, but I haven’t heard from them.’

Of course not. Eden couldn’t think of anyone who worked more slowly than the counter-espionage unit. Impatiently she took out her mobile and called Alex. GD raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

‘Alex, it’s me, Eden. Sorry to bother you again, but I’m just wondering if your team has been involved in an operation on a property on Torsgatan over the last couple of days.’

She listened in silence to Alex’s response.

Then sat for a long time with the phone on her knee.

Lost for words.

Back to square one.

‘The woman who’s following Efraim is wanted in connection with the murder inquiry,’ she said eventually. ‘They think her name is Mona Samson, and that she was in a relationship with the father of one of the boys. Some of that information has already been leaked to the media.’

‘How does Recht know she’s shadowing Kiel?’ GD said in surprise.

‘He doesn’t, but as far as I can see we must be talking about the same woman.’

She was almost grinding her teeth in frustration.

What is it I’m not seeing? What is it that we’re all missing?

Alex had mentioned that they could be looking for two separate perpetrators. If Mona Samson was the person who had helped Gideon Eisenberg, she was still out there. And she was a threat to Eden and her family.

But how would she know that Efraim had two children?

‘I have to go home right now,’ she said firmly. ‘We can talk about this in the morning.’

‘Good idea. Try to get some rest – you look tired.’

Eden felt her knees crack as she got to her feet. She was back in her office pulling on her coat when Mikael rang.

‘Where are you?’

‘I know, I’m late. But I’m on my way right now, and I’ve got lots of good news.’

She picked up her bag and Dani’s new violin.

‘Sounds promising,’ Mikael said. ‘We could certainly do with some good news here; it’s been one hell of an evening.’

‘I’m really sorry you had to leave in such a rush. But it will only be for tonight, if that’s any consolation; we can move back home tomorrow.’

‘Eden, we’re not in the other apartment. We’re still at home.’

She stopped dead.

‘What?’

‘Everything went wrong, and the girls were absolutely worn out.’

She wasn’t listening any more. Fear flooded her body. Not because something had happened, but because she was thinking about what could have happened.

‘For fuck’s sake, Mikael, this is serious. You have to do as I say when I ring and…’

‘No, I don’t,’ he interrupted her, sounding furious. ‘If it’s so important, then you can bloody well come home like a normal person, explain what’s going on instead of creating havoc like you did this afternoon.’

At that moment Eden heard a sound in the background.

A sound she couldn’t place.

It came again.

The doorbell.

The doorbell.

‘Mikael, don’t open the door!’

‘It’s only the pizzas I ordered about a hundred years ago. I got so angry when they didn’t arrive that they promised to send them over for free. We can have them with a glass of wine when you get home.’

She heard his footsteps moving through the apartment.

‘Mikael, I mean it. Tell them to leave the pizzas outside the door. Don’t open it!’

‘For pity’s sake, Eden. I’m not going to frighten the life out of a pizza delivery boy just because you’re paranoid.’

She set off again. Started to run.

‘Please, Mikael, please…’

‘Eden, it’s the pizzas. He’s got the boxes in his hand. Love you, see you later.’

He was gone, leaving her alone.

Pizza.

Of course he was right.

Of course it was the pizza delivery boy.

She called him back.

Her heart was pounding like a jack hammer.

Unnecessarily.

The pizzas had arrived, Mikael had just opened a bottle of wine and was about to lay the table.

A stray tear of pure relief trickled down her cheek, and she dashed it away.

‘By the way, can you pick up some milk on the way home? I’ve just noticed we’ve run out.’

‘No problem.’

She decided to call in at an ICA supermarket that she knew was open late. There was always a queue, but it didn’t matter. After all, she wasn’t in a hurry any more.

Everything was under control.

He was running out of patience. Something had to happen soon. She had to show herself again, and next time he wouldn’t miss her. He couldn’t, because otherwise he knew it would be too late.

Efraim Kiel had believed he had a well thought out plan. If he hadn’t been given the task of recruiting a new security chief for the Solomon Community in Stockholm, he would have found another reason to come to Sweden.

Because now it was time to put things right.

Time to wreak the revenge he and Nadia had spent ten years waiting for.

Nadia, the amazing woman he had managed to recruit as a Mossad informant. A Palestinian woman whose great secret was that her father had been an Israeli Jew; her mother had never told anyone else.

Nadia had been recruited because of her husband. She was married to a man the Israelis suspected of being involved in Palestinian terrorist activities. Not only involved; he had been one of the operational leaders. Nadia had had integrity; she wouldn’t sell out just any Palestinian to the Israeli side, but the fact was that the man she had fallen in love with and married had deceived her. He wanted to pursue an armed battle against the Israeli occupying forces, which she was happy to go along with. But not if the violence was directed exclusively at the civilian population. She had made it clear at an early stage that she was only prepared to be with him if he and his comrades attacked military targets.

He had given her his word. And broken it.

That had provided Efraim with the key to a successful recruitment, and soon Nadia was one of the Israeli security service’s most important sources.

In his defence, Efraim often told himself that he had tried to resist. That he had never meant to fall in love, but had been forced to capitulate. Efraim had never felt for any woman what he felt for Nadia. She became pregnant almost right away, said that she knew it was Efraim’s child she was carrying.

‘You can’t do this,’ Efraim had said. ‘Your husband will kill you if he finds out.’

‘Which is why it will be our secret – yours and mine,’ she had replied.

Therefore, he was not inexperienced when it came to being the father of another man’s child, but in Nadia’s case he had known about it, and it had caused him great pain. Because Efraim had wanted the impossible: a normal life with Nadia.

There were a thousand reasons why it was out of the question, but only one counted.

They would die, all three of them. Even if they left Israel.

‘He knows people everywhere,’ Nadia had said. ‘They would find me and kill me.’

Therefore, the husband had to go. Somehow.

It wasn’t an easy operation to put in place. Months passed, turning into years. Nadia said she needed a break from Efraim, and those words led to a hiatus of several years. They met only to exchange information, and she had something to offer less and less often. Her husband was lying low; he had lost influence within the organisation. Efraim didn’t see his son, but had to make do with the photographs Nadia gave him. The boy was too old; he would start asking questions if he was suddenly introduced to an Israeli man.

Then MI5 got in touch. They were trying to track down a terrorist who was planning attacks on British embassies.

He stamped his feet up and down on the spot. He followed the news on his phone. Apparently Gideon Eisenberg was dead; he had killed himself.

It had been Saul’s idea to call one of the Palestinian sources the Paper Boy. At first Efraim had thought it was a bad idea, but then he had changed his mind and said he wanted to use the name for his newest recruit. Nadia the Paper Boy had become Efraim’s project. No one else was allowed to meet her, even though they knew of her existence. No one but Efraim and his boss knew her identity. Gideon and Saul ran their own sources in Palestinian towns and villages.

Efraim’s bosses felt that taking out Nadia’s husband would be too destructive, so they let him carry on, but made sure they sabotaged every plan that Nadia was able to tip them off about.

When the joint operation with MI5 got under way, everything was suddenly heightened – both the exchange of information and their love affair. Nadia’s husband was the key player in the plot to launch a series of attacks on British embassies, and the Israelis decided they had had enough. Nadia’s husband had to go.

Efraim had not been involved in the strategic planning, otherwise there would never have been so many of them there on the day his life came to an end. The team had stood outside the house where Nadia’s husband was that afternoon, wondering if they dared go inside.

He had moved a short distance away, said he was going to call for reinforcements. Which he had done, but first he had called Nadia to make sure she was nowhere in the vicinity.

He could still remember the panic in her voice.

‘You have to abort the whole thing! Benjamin is with him!’

Efraim hadn’t seen his son emerge from the house.

He hadn’t been there when Saul and Gideon, those stupid bastards, had decided to approach him. A ten-year-old kid who had been scared of Israeli men all his life. Who knew it was almost never good news when they came calling.

The boy had run for his life.

Back to the house.

Which was booby trapped.

It had been over in seconds. There was nothing Efraim could do. But later, as he wept with Nadia, he had promised her vengeance.

Saul and Gideon had been badly affected by what had happened. They had both said they could no longer justify what they were doing. Efraim realised that their past was haunting them; when children were involved, they wanted out.

So they had left the country, but Efraim had kept tabs on them. He had never forgotten what they had done, and that there was a debt to be paid. Both Gideon and Saul were blessed with a son; Efraim couldn’t accept that such an outcome was fair.

‘I’ll give them ten years,’ he had said to Nadia. ‘Then I will take from them what they should never have been granted.’

But it was all over between Efraim and Nadia. She didn’t want him any more.

‘You gave me the best thing I ever had,’ she said. ‘But you also caused me the greatest pain I have ever known. I can’t reconcile those two experiences. I just can’t.’

Therefore, Efraim had lost not only a son, but the love of his life, and for that Gideon and Saul would pay the highest price imaginable.

Nadia made a new life for herself in northern Israel. They met occasionally, but briefly. She would remind him of what he had promised, and Efraim would assure her that he would never let her down again.

That promise rang hollow as he saw Nadia approach the door of the apartment block for the second time. Everything happened so fast. Before Efraim could take one step, she was inside. The door clicked shut behind her.

Shit.

Efraim raced across the road, afraid that every second was vital.

It took him ninety seconds to get the door open.

And that was all the time the woman known as the Paper Boy needed.

Her case was too heavy to carry in the snow. Fredrika Bergman had been indoors for far too many hours; she needed some fresh air, which was why she wanted to walk home.

She glanced at the suitcase, decided she could pick it up the following day.

But not her violin.

She was determined to take it with her so that she could play for Spencer.

She put on her coat, picked up the violin case and called in to see Alex on her way out.

‘Are you sure it’s okay if I go home? You don’t need me?’

Alex looked exhausted.

‘No, you get off. I won’t be long myself.’

Fredrika felt lost. Sad. Almost resigned.

‘It’s over,’ she said. ‘And yet it isn’t.’

Alex pulled a face.

‘As far as I’m concerned, there is absolutely no doubt: Gideon is the killer we’ve been looking for. And until we’ve had a proper conversation with Mona Samson, I’m not prepared to eliminate her completely from our inquiries, in spite of the fact that she’s finally condescended to get in touch.’

Fredrika agreed.

‘She could have been the person on the roof, if it wasn’t Gideon. When is she supposed to be coming in?’

‘Tomorrow. I hope she turns up, because otherwise she’ll be in real trouble.’

Alex picked up the copy of Gideon Eisenberg’s brief suicide note, which had been on his desk.

‘I wish he’d left a longer message,’ he said. ‘So that we could understand why he did what he did.’

But Fredrika had learned that it just wasn’t possible to understand some things.

‘He must have been so badly damaged by what Saul’s father did to him.’

Slashes and scratches inflicted all over his body with a knife.

A road map of scar tissue.

A daily reminder of what he had gone through. She tried to shake off the image.

‘That might be an explanation, but it’s hardly an excuse,’ Alex said.

He was right; as far as Fredrika was concerned, there was no excuse for shooting two ten-year-old boys and leaving their bodies barefoot in the snow.

‘We’ll find Polly tomorrow,’ she said.

Alex nodded.

‘We will. I’m sure she’s alive.’

‘Me too. Goodnight.’

She raised a hand and left.

She walked out of Police HQ, out into the fresh air.

It wouldn’t be a long walk, but she didn’t need one. She just wanted to feel the cold night air on her face, to stretch her legs. She decided to go via Sankt Eriksplan and Vasa Park, which would extend her route slightly.

She called home to tell Spencer that she was on her way.

He didn’t answer.

Perhaps one of the children had woken, and needed his full attention.

She put away her mobile, enjoying the winter chill even though it was snowing once more.

Across the street she could see the figure of another woman, who also seemed to be carrying something resembling a violin case. Fredrika followed her through the falling snow and saw her head towards the ICA supermarket on the corner. She was swallowed up by the store’s glass doors, and Fredrika carried on walking.

He ran twice as fast as he imagined his son had run on the day he died.

He glanced at the list of residents, because he couldn’t remember whether Eden lived on the second or third floor.

Third.

From a purely logical point of view, he should have realised that it was already too late.

That he wasn’t going to get there in time.

That she would not allow him to prevent the completion of her task.

When he reached Eden’s floor, there was nothing but silence.

The absence of sound made him feel sick.

He grabbed the door handle. Pulled it. Hard.

And found that the door was open.

Surprise made him lose concentration, just for a second. Then he could see once more. With terrible clarity.

Eden’s husband was lying on his stomach in the hallway. Efraim crouched down automatically and felt for a pulse.

He felt the faintest throb against his fingertips.

Erratic, but it would have to do.

He stepped over the body and carried on into the apartment.

He had expected a fight. An attack. Loud screams and vicious blows. To her head and neck, arms and knees. Whatever he had to do to put her out of action.

But she was one step ahead of him.

And Efraim realised he would never catch up.

She was standing in Eden’s bedroom.

He could see her in profile.

The main light was not switched on; only the street lamps cast a faint glow into the room.

That was all the light he needed.

He could see what there was to see. The two girls, lying in their parents’ double bed. Fast asleep. As peaceful as only children can be when they are asleep.

‘Don’t do it,’ he said.

He saw the gun in her hand.

He tried to play for time.

‘Was it you who murdered Gideon?’ he said.

She was taken aback.

‘He’s dead?’

‘They say he killed himself.’

‘I’m not surprised. I always thought he was weak.’

Efraim wondered how she knew. Was it Gideon she’d had an affair with, or Saul? He no longer cared.

Instead he looked again at the gun she was holding. Saw the extension to the black barrel.

A silencer.

That was why he had heard nothing when she shot Eden’s husband.

Surely she hadn’t already shot the girls, had she?

He took a step closer, his hand closing around the gun in his pocket.

Looked at the sleeping girls.

‘Don’t do it,’ he said again. ‘This is nothing to do with them.’

She turned to face him.

Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world. As if she knew, better than he did, that he would never be able to bring himself to shoot her.

‘Indeed it is,’ she said. ‘And you’re late.’

He couldn’t stop himself.

He hurled himself at the bed, tore off the covers. And saw the blood on the children’s pyjamas.

He stared at the darker of the two girls, the one who looked so much like his sister.

Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision. He walked around the bed, positioned himself opposite her.

‘For fuck’s sake. What’s the point of this?’

‘You know that as well as I do. And now my work is done.’

Efraim shook his head.

Pulled out his gun. Took aim, knowing that she wouldn’t have time to shoot him first.

‘You’re going nowhere,’ he said.

‘You think we should stay here? And do what? Wait to welcome home the rest of the family?’

He forced himself not to take his eyes off her, not to look at the girls again. Perhaps it would be just as well to wait for Eden, because what did she have to live for now? What was left when everything had been taken away?

‘I don’t think so,’ she said.

She raised her gun, and there they stood.

Two people who had once loved each other enough to create another person.

There was nothing left of what they had had.

Not one iota.

‘I promised to take revenge,’ Efraim said. ‘And I did.’

Nadia’s face contorted in sorrow.

‘You envisaged a lesser revenge than I did,’ she said. ‘Much lesser. You wanted to spare Gideon’s daughter.’

‘I believed in a just revenge. I didn’t know we thought so differently.’

The gun shook in her hand.

‘You can’t do it,’ she said. ‘You can’t shoot me, can you? Not even now.’

He opened his mouth to say that she was wrong.

He could do it.

But he didn’t want to.

She got there first.

‘But I can, Efraim. I can.’

And she did.

Efraim twisted and fell, landed on his back on the bed and automatically began to shuffle away. His strength quickly failed. He was unable to raise his gun and fire. The last thing he saw in this life was Nadia’s face as she bent over him. She appeared to be crying.

‘Forgive me,’ she said. ‘Forgive me.’

And with that she rested her head on his chest and felt him draw his final breath.