The Fire Witness

113

Joona walks briskly through the entrance to the building at Wollmar Yxkullsgatan 9. He runs up the stairs to the top floor and rings the bell beside the only door. His heart starts to calm down as he waits for an answer. The brass plaque screwed to the door bears the engraved name Horáčková. There’s a piece of tape above it on which the name Lundhagen has been scrawled. He knocks as hard as he can, but he can’t hear a thing inside the apartment. He opens the mail slot and peeks inside. It’s dark but he can see the floor is covered with mail and flyers. He rings the doorbell again, waits, and then pulls out his cell phone to call Anja.

“Can you search for Tobias Horáčková?”

“No such person,” she replies a moment later.

“Horáčková at Wollmar Yxkullsgatan 9.”

“There’s a Viktoriya Horáčková at that residence,” Anja says. She keeps typing.

“What about a Tobias Lundhagen?”

“Let me just tell you that Viktoriya Horáčková is the daughter of a diplomat from the Czech Republic.”

“What about a Tobias Lundhagen?”

“Yes, he lives there. Either he rents it from her or he lives with her.”

“Thanks.”

“Joona, wait,” Anja says hurriedly.

“Yes?”

“Three small details. One: You can’t go into a diplomatic apartment without a warrant from the Justice Department-”

“Okay,” he says.

“Two: You have a meeting with the Internal Review Board in twenty-five minutes.”

“Can’t make it.”

“Three: At four thirty this afternoon, you have a meeting with Carlos.”

Joona is sitting straight-backed in a hard armchair at the office of the Public Prosecutor for Police Cases. The head of the Internal Review Board is reading the report from the first interview with Joona in a monotone. Then he hands it to Joona so he can approve and sign it.

Mikael Båge has a drop of snot hanging from his nostril. He sniffs it into his nose as he takes the report back and hands it to Helene Fiorine, the lead secretary. Then he starts to read the transcript of the testimony given by the witness Göran Stone from Säpo.

Three hours later, Joona is walking the short stretch from Kungsbro Bridge to the police station. He takes the elevator to the eighth floor, walks past Carlos Eliasson’s assistant, and knocks on the chief’s door. He takes his place at the table where his colleagues Petter Näslund, Benny Rubin, and Magdalena Ronander are already waiting.

“Joona, I am a reasonable person, but this is going too far,” Carlos says. He’s feeding his paradise fish.

“Bringing in the national SWAT team!” Petter says with a grin.

Magdalena is sitting silently looking at the table.

“Tell them you’re sorry,” Carlos says.

“Because I wanted to save the life of a little boy?” asks Joona.

“No, because you know you were wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Joona says.

Petter giggles. His forehead is sweaty.

“I’m going to have to suspend you from active service,” Carlos says, “until the internal investigation is concluded.”

“Who is taking over?”

“The preliminary investigation is being shut down-”

“Vicky Bennet is alive,” Joona interrupts.

“-probably tomorrow afternoon, once the prosecutor has the chance to formally close it.”

“She’s alive!”

“Get a grip!” Benny says. “I’ve also taken a look at that security film-”

Carlos silences Benny with a wave of his hand.

“There’s no indication that it was Vicky and the boy on that security film at the gas station.”

“She left a message on her mother’s cell-phone voice mail two days ago,” Joona says.

“Vicky doesn’t have a phone and her mother is dead,” Magdalena says in a serious tone.

“You’re starting to get sloppy, Joona,” Petter says in a pitying voice.

Carlos clears his throat and hesitates before he takes a deep breath. “This isn’t easy for me,” he says slowly.

Petter looks expectantly at Carlos, while Magdalena stares at the table and Benny doodles on a piece of paper.

“I’ll go on leave for a month,” Joona says.

“That’s good,” Carlos says. “That will solve-”

“As long as I can enter a specific apartment first.”

“An apartment?”

Carlos’s face darkens and he sits down behind his desk as if all his strength has just left him.

“It was purchased seventeen years ago by the ambassador from the Czech Republic. He gave it to his twenty-year-old daughter.”

“Forget it,” says Carlos.

“The daughter hasn’t lived there for twelve years.”

“Doesn’t matter. As long as it’s owned by a person with diplomatic immunity, paragraph 21 doesn’t apply to it.”

Anja Larsson comes into the office without knocking. Her blond hair is arranged in a bun on the top of her head, and she’s wearing glittery lip gloss. She walks right up to Carlos, looks at him, and gestures toward his cheek.

“You have a spot of dirt on your face,” she says.

“Is it my beard?” Carlos asks weakly.

“What?”

“Maybe I forgot to shave this morning,” Carlos says.

“It doesn’t look good at all.”

“I see,” he says as he looks down.

“I need to talk to Joona. Are you done here?”

“No,” Carlos says. “We’re-”

Anja leans over his desk. The red beads of her necklace jostle in her cleavage. Carlos is about to remind her that he’s married when his eyes fasten on the shadow that disappears into her low-cut blouse below the lowest bead.

“Are you about to have a nervous breakdown?” Anja asks.

“Yes, I am,” Carlos says weakly.

Their colleagues stare as Joona gets up from his chair and walks out of the office with Anja.

They head toward the elevators and Joona presses the call button.

“So what do you want, Anja?” he asks.

“Oh, here you are, all stressed again,” she says, and offers him a piece of candy in a red-and-white-striped wrapper. “I just wanted to tell you that Flora Hansen called back and-”

“I need a decision on a search warrant.”

Anja shakes her head. She peels the paper from the candy and pops it into Joona’s mouth.

“Flora wants to give you your money back.”

“She lied to me.”

“She just wants us to listen. She said that there is a witness. She really did sound frightened and she kept repeating that you have to believe her. She doesn’t want money. She just wants us to listen to her.”

“I must get into the apartment at Wollmar Yxkullsgatan 9.”

“Oh, Joona.” Anja sighs.

She takes the paper off another piece of candy and holds it to Joona’s mouth as she puckers her lips. Joona eats the candy. Anja laughs happily and unwraps a third piece and holds it up. It’s too late. Joona is already in the elevator.