The Nightmare

88

Joona Linna, Saga Bauer, and Penelope Fernandez are in an armored police van being driven away from Diplomat City and along Strandvägen and, beside it, the glittering water.

“I knew his face,” Penelope says in a monotone. “I knew he would keep after me and after me until…”

She stops speaking and stares straight ahead.

“… until he killed me,” she finally says.

“Yes,” Saga answers.

Penelope shuts her eyes and lets herself rock with the gentle motion of the police van. They’re passing the remarkable monument to Raoul Wallenberg, which is formed like white-capped waves or Hebrew letters blowing in the wind.

“Who was he? The man who was after me?” Penelope asks.

“He was a professional hit man,” Joona explains. “Also called a problem solver or a grob.”

“Neither Europol nor Interpol has anything on him,” Saga says.

“A professional killer,” Penelope says. “So someone had to send for him.”

“Yes,” Saga says. “But any leads back to who did will be well hidden.”

“Raphael Guidi?” Penelope asks softly. “Is he behind this? Or is it Agathe al-Haji?”

“We believe it has to be Raphael Guidi,” Saga says. “It doesn’t make sense for Agathe al-Haji to be behind it. As far as she’s concerned, it wouldn’t matter if she was seen buying ammunition-”

“It’s not a secret what she does,” Joona says.

“So Raphael Guidi sent a hit man, but… what does he really want? Do you know? Is all of this just about the photograph? Really?”

“Perhaps he assumed you were the photographer and a witness-you may have seen or heard something that would implicate him.”

“Does he still think so?”

“Probably.”

“So he’ll just find another hit man?”

“That’s what we’re afraid of,” Saga answers honestly.

“How long will I have police protection? Will I be in hiding forever?”

“Well,” says Saga, “we’ll have to plan the next steps, but-”

“I’m going to be hunted down until I can’t run any longer,” Penelope says.

They’re driving past NK and see three young people on a sit-in strike outside the elegant department store.

“He won’t give up,” Joona confirms. His voice is serious. “So we will expose this whole deal. Then there won’t be any reason to silence you.”

“We know we probably can’t do much to Raphael Guidi himself,” Saga says. “But here in Sweden-”

“What could you do here?”

“Primarily, we can stop the arms deal,” Saga says. “The container ship can’t leave Gothenburg Harbor without Axel Riessen’s signature.”

“And why wouldn’t he sign?”

“He will never sign it,” Joona says. “He knows what’s going on.”

“That’s good,” whispers Penelope.

“So we stop the deal and arrest Pontus Salman and all the other Swedes involved,” Saga concludes.

After a moment of silence, Penelope says, “I have to call my mother.”

“Here’s my phone,” Saga says.

Penelope takes Saga’s phone, appears to hesitate, and then dials the number.

“Hi, Mamma, it’s me, Penny. I’m okay.”

“Penny, I’m just on my way to the door. I have to get it-”

“Wait, Mamma!” Penelope cries. “Who’s there?”

“I don’t know,” her mother says.

“Are you expecting anyone?”

“No, but-”

“Don’t open it!” Penelope shouts.

Her mother says something indistinguishable as she puts down the phone. Penelope can hear the bell ring again. The door is opened and Penelope can hear voices. She waits helpless, looking wide-eyed at Saga and Joona. There’s some noise on the line and a thud and then her mother’s voice again.

“Are you still there, Penny?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“There’s a woman here looking for you.”

“Looking for me?” Penelope wets her lips. “All right, Mamma, hand over the phone.”

There’s a crackle on the line and then an unfamiliar voice.

“Penelope Fernandez?”

“I’m here,” Penelope says.

“I have to see you.”

“Who are you?” Penelope asks.

“I sent you the photograph.”

“I don’t know anything about a photograph,” Penelope says abruptly. “Good answer,” the woman says. “We don’t know each other, but I am the person who sent that photograph to you.”

Penelope says nothing.

“We must get together as soon as possible,” the woman says. There is tremendous tension in her voice. “I sent you the photograph of four people in a private box at the theater. I took the photograph secretly on November 13, 2009. One of the four people in the box is Pontus Salman. He’s my husband.”