‘Do you think that makes a difference?’
They stared at each other in silence. The woman’s feverish eyes had seen too much. Annika was the first to avert her gaze.
‘Maybe not,’ she said. ‘Why were they killed?’
‘How much do you know?’ Aida from Bijelina asked.
‘Not much more than what’s been in the papers. That the men were probably Serbs – they were wearing Serbian clothing. No ID, no fingerprints. Interpol has already contacted Belgrade. The police are looking for you.’
‘Am I wanted?’ The question shot out.
Annika studied her carefully. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I think so. Why don’t you contact them and ask?’
The woman regarded her through her feverish haze. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘You are aware of my situation. I can’t talk to the police, not at this time. What do you know about the killer?’
‘Organized crime, according to the police.’
‘And the motive?’
‘Someone settling a score, just like it said in the papers. What exactly do you know?’
Aida from Bijelina closed her eyes and rested a while.
‘Don’t tell anyone you’ve talked to me.’
‘No problem,’ Annika said. ‘You’re a source, and by rights protected. The authorities aren’t allowed to try and find out from me who you are – it’s against Swedish law.’
‘You don’t get it, you might be in danger. You can’t write about what I’ve told you – if you do, then they’ll know that you know.’
Annika studied the woman, hesitated, didn’t reply, didn’t want to make any promises. Aida propped herself up against the pillows again.
‘Have you been there? Have you seen the trucks out by the sea?’
Annika nodded.
‘One of those trucks is missing,’ said Aida from Bijelina. ‘A truck loaded with cigarettes, not just hidden under the floor: the entire cargo, fifty million cigarettes, fifty million kronor.’
Annika gasped.
‘More people will die. The man who owns that shipment isn’t going to let the thieves get away.’
‘Is that the guy who’s after you?’
The woman nodded.
‘What for?’
Aida closed her eyes. ‘Because I know everything,’ she said.
They sat in silence for a while, until they heard the knock on the door. Aida blanched. More knocking was heard. A silky voice spoke, deep and masculine, almost a whisper.
‘Aida?’
‘That’s him,’ the woman whispered. ‘He’ll shoot us both.’ She looked like she was going to pass out at any minute.
Annika suddenly felt intensely dizzy. She got up and the room started spinning. She stumbled.
Another knock. ‘Aida?’
‘We’re going to die,’ the woman said in a resigned voice. Annika saw how she bowed her head in prayer.
No
, Annika thought.
Not here, not now.
‘Come,’ she whispered, pulling the woman out of bed and dragging her over to the bathroom. She tossed Aida’s clothes in after her, took off her own top and held it to her chest as she walked over to open the door.
‘Hello . . .?’ she asked in a surprised voice.
The man on the other side was big and good-looking, dressed in black and holding one hand inside his jacket.
‘Where’s Aida?’ he asked with a slight accent.
‘Who?’ Annika asked in puzzled tones, her mouth parched, her temples throbbing.
‘Aida Begovic. I know she’s in here.’
Annika swallowed, blinked up at the lamp overhead and pushed her sweater up under her chin. ‘You must have the wrong room,’ Annika said in a breathless voice. ‘This is my room. And if you’ll excuse me, I don’t feel very well. I’ve already . . . turned in, you see.’
The man took a step forward, placing his left hand on the door in an attempt to push it open. Annika automatically put her foot against the other side of the door to block any movement. At that very moment, the door to the next room opened. Ten or so slightly tipsy delegates from the IT department of the telephone company Telia tumbled out into the hallway.
The big man in black hesitated. Annika forced air into her lungs and yelled: ‘Go away! Beat it!’ and desperately tried to shut the door.
A few of the delegates stopped and looked around.
‘Go away!’ Annika shouted. ‘Help, he’s trying to force his way in.’
Two of the men from Telia swaggered over to Annika. ‘What’s going on?’ one of them asked.
‘I’m sorry, honey,’ the man said as he let go of the door. ‘We’ll talk later.’
He turned around and walked rapidly towards the lobby. Annika shut the door, her stomach churning with fear.
Oh my God, oh my God! Please let me live.
Her legs were quaking so much that she had to sit on the floor. Her hands were shaking and she felt like throwing up. The bathroom door opened.
‘Is he gone?’
Annika nodded silently, Aida from Bijelina sobbed.
‘You saved my life, how will I ever . . .?’
‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ Annika said. ‘Both of us – and pretty darn quick, too.’
She got up, turned off the lamp on the table and started collecting up her belongings in the dark.
‘Wait,’ Aida said. ‘It’s better to wait until he’s gone.’
‘He’ll be lying in wait for us,’ Annika explained. ‘Oh, damn it!’
She struggled to keep from crying. The woman staggered over to the bed and sank down.
‘No,’ she said. ‘He thinks he’s been had. He paid for information, and now he’ll go and check if the source was tricking him.’
Annika took three deep breaths.
Calm down, calm down
. . .
‘How did he know you were here?’ she said. ‘Did you tell anyone?’
‘He found me yesterday too. He figured that I couldn’t have got very far. He’s had people out looking for me. Could you see if he’s gone?’
Annika wiped her eyes and peered out from behind the curtain. In the parking lot below she could see the big guy, accompanied by two other men. They all got into the car next to hers and drove off.
‘They’re gone,’ Annika said, letting go of the curtain. ‘Let’s get moving.’
She switched the table lamp back on, pulled on her jacket, shoved her pen in her bag, and picked up the pad from the floor, her back drenched in sweat, her hands cold.
‘No,’ Aida from Bijelina said. ‘I’m staying here. He won’t be back.’
Annika straightened herself up, her face growing hot.
‘How can you be so sure? That guy is dangerous! I’ll drive you to the airport or the train station.’
The woman closed her eyes. ‘You’ve seen him,’ she said. ‘You know that he’s looking for Aida Begovic. There’s no way he’ll kill me here, not tonight. He doesn’t make a move if he might get caught. He’ll get me tomorrow, or the day after.’
Annika collapsed on the chair again and rested the pad on her lap, the same pad she’d brought along to another hotel in another part of town.
‘Don’t you have anywhere safe to go?’ she asked. Aida shook her head.
‘Isn’t there anyone out there who can take care of you?’
‘I dare not go to a hospital.’
Annika swallowed hesitantly. ‘There might be a way out,’ she said. ‘There might be someone who could help you.’
The Bosnian woman didn’t respond.
Annika thumbed through her pad, not finding what she was looking for.
‘There’s this foundation that helps people like you,’ Annika told Aida and started rummaging through her bag. There – the business card was at the bottom. ‘Call this number tonight.’
She jotted down the unlisted number for Paradise on a scrap of paper and put it on the night-stand.
‘What is this place?’ Aida asked.
Annika sat down next to the ill woman, pushing back her hair and trying to appear calm and collected.
‘I’m not exactly sure how it works, but it’s possible that these people can help you out. They make people disappear from the system.’
The woman’s eyes gleamed with disbelief. ‘What do you mean, “disappear”?’
Annika tried to smile. ‘Call them tonight, ask for Rebecka and tell her I sent you.’ She got up.
‘Wait,’ Aida said. ‘I want to thank you.’
With great effort she pulled out a large bag from under the bed. It was rectangular, had a handle and a shoulder strap and was equipped with a sizeable metal lock that required a key.
‘I would like you to have this,’ said Aida from Bijelina as she handed a chunky gold necklace with two charms on it to Annika. It was as heavy as a chain.
Annika backed away, all sweaty in her jacket, wanting to leave. ‘I can’t accept a gift like this,’ she said.
Aida smiled for the first time, sadly.
‘We’ll never see each other again,’ she told Annika. ‘I’ll feel hurt if you don’t accept my gift.’
Annika gingerly took the compact heavy necklace.
‘Thank you,’ she said as she dropped it in her bag. ‘Good luck.’
She turned around, escaping from the sick woman, leaving her sitting on the bed clasping the big bag in her arms.
The parking lot was empty. Annika hurried across the asphalt, her heels clicking, sounding too hesitant and uncertain. Glanced over her shoulder – no one had seen her get into the newspaper’s car. She pulled out on the expressway, checked the rear-view mirror, took the first turn-off, parked behind a filling station, waited, looked around, then slowly headed back towards downtown Stockholm, driving in circles.
No one was following her.
As soon as Annika had parked in the garage she sat there for several minutes, leaning against the wheel, forcing her breathing back to normal.
She hadn’t been so damned scared in ages.
It had been more than two years ago.
The big man dressed in black deftly broke open the door in the corridor of the conference hotel on the edge of town. He could tell by the way the room smelled that he’d come to the right place. It reeked of shit and fear. The darkness was interrupted by a street light that left wedges of whiteness on the ceiling. He shut the door behind him. It closed with a faint click. Walked into the room, aiming for the bed. Switched on the light.
Empty.
The bedclothes were in disarray and a roll of toilet paper was on the night-stand, but apart from that the room was in standard order.
Rage swept through him like a wave, making him feel weak. He sank down on the bed, placing his hand on a pile of soiled tissues. A small box was on the floor next to his foot. He picked it up and read the instructions.
An empty package of antibiotics with instructions in Serbo-Croat.
It must have been her, she must have been here.
He got up and gave the headboard three hard kicks before it fell apart.
You whore. I’m going to find you.
He went through the entire room, centimetre by centimetre, drawer by drawer; checking wastebaskets and closets, pulling out the desk and the mattresses.
Nothing.
Then he pulled out a knife and began to systematically slice up the bedclothes, the duvet, the pillows, the box spring, the cushion on the chair, and the shower curtain, nearly exploding from the pressure inside him.
He sat down on the bathtub, leaning his forehead against the cold blade of his knife.
She had been here – his source was reliable. Where the hell had she gone? Pretty soon he would be the butt of jokes, the guy who couldn’t catch the cunt. He should have forced his way in, but no such luck, those damn guests in the hallway, that Swedish whore.
He sat up.
The Swedish woman – who the hell was she? He’d never seen her before. She didn’t have an accent and she must have known Aida. How? And what was she doing there? In what way was she involved?
Suddenly the cellphone in his pocket starting ringing. The man yanked his jacket open and whipped out the phone, caressing his weapon in the process. Molim?
Good news, finally some good news.
He left the room, slipped out of the hotel, seen by no one.
Annika Bengtzon walked in without knocking first, and sank down on Schyman’s old couch without noticing the stench.
‘I’ve got a tip that I want to discuss with you as soon as possible,’ she said. ‘Do you have time right now?’
She looked tired, almost ill.
‘It doesn’t look like I have much choice, does it?’ Anders Schyman said irritably.
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
‘I’m sorry, I’m kind of hyper. I was just out on a damned unpleasant—’
She struggled out of her coat.
‘Last night I met a woman named Rebecka. She runs a new outfit, a foundation called Paradise. They help people whose lives are threatened to find a new life, mainly women and children. It sounds damn exciting.’
‘What do you mean, help?’
‘They remove every trace of a person from all public records. She wouldn’t go into detail until I get the go-ahead for the article.’
Schyman studied her. She was nervous.
‘We can’t guarantee publication until we know what’s going on, you know that,’ he said. ‘An operation like that needs to be investigated in depth before we go public. That Rebecka person could be anyone: a conwoman, an extortionist, a killer – you don’t know.’
She looked at him for a long while.
‘Do you think I should find out? I mean, do you think I . . .?’
She stopped talking, swallowed. He realized what she wanted.
‘See her again and tell her we’re interested. But I don’t want this business to take time and energy from your work on the night shift.’
Annika got up from the couch and sat down on one of the chairs over by Schyman’s desk instead.
‘You’ve got to get rid of this God-awful couch,’ she told him. ‘Why don’t you have someone chuck it out for you?’
She put her pad on his desk. He hesitated momentarily, then decided to be frank. ‘I know what you want. You want me to take you off the night shift and reinstate you as a reporter.’
He leaned back in his chair, finishing his train of thought: ‘It’s not possible right now.’
‘Why not?’ she shot back. ‘I’ve been assigned to night duty for one year and three hundred and sixty-three days now. I’ve been a permanent member of the staff ever since the court ruling. In my opinion, I’ve done my bit. I want to write. For real.’
Fatigue overcame Schyman. ‘
I want this. I’m going to do that. Why don’t I get to . . .?
’ Spoiled brats, that’s what they were, all two hundred-plus of them always wanting to have things their way, acting like their articles or assignments or salary issues were the only important matters on Earth. He couldn’t reassign her now, not with the reorganization coming up.