The Rabbit Hunter

52

There’s a place in the far corner of Hammarby Cemetery to the north of Stockholm where you can see far across the fields and reed-fringed water.

Even though the city is so close, everything here looks the way it has for a thousand years.

Disa is lying in the innermost row, by a low stone wall, next to a child’s grave with a handprint on the headstone. Joona was with her for many years after his separation from Summa, and not a minute goes by without him missing her.

He removes the old flowers, gets fresh water and puts the new bunch in the vase.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t visited you in a long time,’ he says, getting rid of some leaves that have fallen on the grave. ‘Do you remember me talking about Valeria, who I used to be in love with back in high school...? We’ve been writing to each other for the past year, and have met up several times, but I don’t know what’s going to happen to us now.’

A girl comes riding along the bridleway on the other side of the wall. Two birds take off and fly in a wide arc over a large boulder at the edge of the forest.

‘Can you believe that Lumi’s living in Paris?’ he smiles. ‘She seems happy, she’s working on a film project for college, about the migrants in Calais...’

The gravel path crunches as a slender figure with colourful plaits in her blonde hair walks up. She stops next to Joona and stands there in silence for a while before starting to speak.

‘I’ve just spoken to the doctors,’ Saga says. ‘Gustav’s still sedated. He’s going to survive, but he’ll need more operations. They had to amputate his arm.’

‘The most important thing is that he’s going to make it.’

‘Yes,’ Saga sighs, poking at the gravel with her trainer.

‘What is it?’ Joona asks.

‘Verner has already closed this down. Everything’s been declared confidential. No one has access. I can’t even look at my own damn reports any more... If they knew what I’ve kept on my personal computer I’d lose my job. Verner’s pushed for such a high level of secrecy that even he doesn’t have access now.’

‘In that case, who does?’ Joona asks with a smile.

‘No one,’ she laughs, then turns serious again.

They start to walk back, past the rune-stone with its twined serpents, and the sombre angel by the entrance.

‘The only thing we know after the biggest anti-terrorism operation in Swedish history is that absolutely nothing about it points to terrorism,’ she says, stopping in the car park.

‘What exactly went wrong?’ Joona asks.

‘The killer said Ratjen’s name... and we linked that to the conversation the security officers at Hall Prison managed to record... I’ve read the entire translation myself, Salim Ratjen talked about three big celebrations... and the date of the first party coincided with the date of the murder of Foreign Minister William Fock.’

‘I know that much.’

She swings one leg over her filthy motorcycle.

‘But those parties only meant that Ratjen’s relatives were coming to Sweden,’ she continues. ‘There’s nothing to suggest that he’s been radicalised in prison, and we haven’t been able to find any connection to Islamic extremism or organisations that have been linked to terrorism.’

‘And Sheikh Ayad al-Jahiz?’ Joona asks.

‘Yes, well,’ Saga laughs bitterly. ‘We’ve got that recording of him saying he’s going to find the leaders who supported the bombings in Syria and blow their faces off.’

‘And the Foreign Minister was shot in the face twice,’ Joona points out.

‘Yes,’ Saga nods. ‘But there’s one small problem with that connection... The management of the Security Police already knew before the operation that Ayad al-Jahiz has been dead for four years — so he couldn’t have been in contact with Ratjen.’

‘So... why?’

‘The Security Police just had its budget increased by forty per cent, so it can maintain the same high level of protection in future.’

‘I see.’

‘Welcome to my world,’ Saga sighs, and kick-starts her motorcycle. ‘Come to the boxing club with me.’