The Nightmare

57

Joona Linna and Saga Bauer departed quietly from Silencia Defense after their short meeting with Pontus Salman.

Pontus Salman had ruined their trap by immediately identifying himself and pinpointing the date: 2008 in a concert hall in Frankfurt.

There had been discussion of a shipment of ammunition to Sudan, he’d explained, a plan well advanced before it was broken off in the spring of 2009. Salman seemed to assume that Joona and Saga were well aware of what had happened then.

He’d added that this had been the only meeting concerning Sudan and that now, of course, any continued business arrangements were out of the question.

“What was he talking about?” Joona asks. “Do you know what happened then?”

Before they’ve even swung out onto Nynäshamn, Saga has phoned Simon Lawrence at Säpo.

“I presume you’re not calling me for a date,” Simon says humorously.

“You’re an expert on North Africa. What happened in Sudan in the spring of 2009?” Saga says.

“What’s the context?”

“For some reason, after that time, Sweden can no longer export weapons to Sudan.”

“Don’t you read the newspapers?”

“Of course,” she answers with gritted teeth.

“In March 2009, the International Criminal Court in The Hague indicted Sudan’s president, Omar al-Bashir.”

“An arrest warrant for the president?”

“That’s right.”

“That’s big.”

“The indictment includes the president’s direct involvement in orders for plundering, rape, forced displacement, torture, murder, and genocide for all three ethnic groups in Darfur.”

“Oh.”

Simon Lawrence goes on to give Saga a short history lesson about events in Sudan before she finally hangs up the phone.

“So what’s it all about?” Joona asks.

“The International Criminal Court in The Hague has an arrest warrant out for President al-Bashir,” she says, and gives Joona a long look.

“I hadn’t heard about that,” says Joona.

“In 2004 the United Nations laid down a weapons embargo to the Janjaweed and other militia in Darfur.”

They drive north on Nynäsvägen. The summer skies begin to turn dark and clouds are building.

“Go on,” says Joona.

“President al-Bashir denies any connection to the militia. After the UN embargo, only direct exports to the Sudan government were allowed.”

“Because there was no connection between the government and the militia.”

“Exactly,” Saga says. “Then, in 2005, a general amnesty was reached. The Comprehensive Peace Agreement. It was supposed to end the longest civil war in Africa. After that date, there was no reason for Sweden to stop weapons supplies to Sudan’s army. Carl Palmcrona had to decide if these shipments were morally and legally a responsible thing to do.”

“But the International Criminal Court thought differently,” Joona says acridly.

“Yes indeed. They saw a direct connection between the president and the armed militia, and they demanded he be arrested for rape, torture, and genocide.”

“What happened after that?”

“There was an election in April and al-Bashir remains the president. Sudan will not allow any arrest warrant to be served, so today it is absolutely forbidden to ship arms to Sudan and have any business with Omar al-Bashir and Agathe al-Haji.”

“As Pontus Salman told us,” Joona says.

“And that’s why they broke off business connections.”

“We have to find Penelope Fernandez,” Joona says as the first raindrops hit the windshield.

They’re now driving into a heavy thunderstorm that immediately obscures their vision. Rain sluices down, drumming on the roof of the car. Joona is forced to slow down to barely more than fifty kilometers per hour. It’s totally dark, but at times lightning illuminates the sky. The windshield wipers swish at top speed back and forth.

Joona’s cell phone rings. Petter Näslund snaps that Penelope has called SOS alarm twenty minutes ago.

“Why didn’t you call me right away?”

“My first priority was to alert the maritime police. They’re already on their way. I also sent a rescue helicopter.”

“Good work, Petter,” Joona says. Saga gives him a questioning look.

“I know you’ll want to question them both as soon as possible.”

“Right,” Joona says.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything more. What shape they’re in.”

“Thanks.”

“The Coast Guard should be there by now… wait… something’s happened. Hang on.”

Joona hears Petter put down the phone. He’s talking to someone, and his voice grows louder until he’s yelling. He’s yelling “Keep trying! Keep trying!” before Joona hears him pick up the phone again.

“I’ve got to go,” Petter says.

“What’s going on?” Joona asks.

A thunderclap rolls and fades away.

“We can’t reach the officer on the boat. No answer. It’s that idiot Lance; he’s probably seen a wave he has to try.”

“Petter,” Joona shouts. “Listen! You need to work fast! That boat’s been hijacked… and I believe-”

“Now you’ve gone too far!”

“Shut up and listen! Probably the guys on the boat are already dead. There may be only a few minutes to order a strike force. Take charge of this operation! Call CID on one phone and Bengt Olofsson on another and try to get two patrols from NI. Ask for backup from a Helicopter 14 from the nearest base.”