by Kepler, Lars
Two black vans and a white command vehicle are now driving at speed past Rinkeby and Tensta, following a black Volvo.
Nils Åhlén has gone home, but Nathan Pollock is in the white minibus with the team’s commanding officers.
Joona Linna is driving the first car in the convoy, with Saga Bauer sitting beside him with her eyes closed. They’ve both been given direct orders to stay in the background and not take an active part in the operation.
‘Saga, how are you doing really?’ Joona says.
‘Fine,’ she snaps.
‘You know you can leave all this to me?’
‘All I know is that I have to find my sister,’ she replies in a subdued voice.
Both Saga and Joona are having trouble believing that they’re going to find Jurek in the house, but they still have a tingling sense of having some sort of advantage, that it isn’t absolutely impossible that they’re going to beat Jurek.
Joona has uncovered a vital part of Jurek’s system.
What looked like either a chaotic or fiendishly complex method was actually following a simple pattern: the stars’ alignment to each other in a constellation that Jurek and his twin brother felt an affinity towards.
It’s perfect on every level.
The stars that make up the twins’ heads are called Castor and Pollux. According to Greek mythology, Castor and Pollux were twin brothers who were raised by the gods.
Only one thing separated them.
Pollux was immortal, but Castor was mortal.
When Castor was killed in battle, Pollux went to Zeus and asked to be allowed to share in death with his brother, and that his brother might in turn be allowed to share his own immortality.
The twins therefore take turns, spending every other day in Hades.
The dusty weeds by a crash barrier sway as they drive past, and an empty crisp packet flies into the air.
The convoy crosses the bridge at Stäket, passes a sports ground and takes the exit for Kungsängen.
Saga is holding a map on her lap on which two houses are circled in red.
Even though she lost the game of chess against Jurek, she still managed to identify the truths his lies were based upon.
She understood that Jurek’s first murder was the clue to his psyche. It had given him the notion that there was a way for him to restore justice.
Saga managed to connect that first murder with the name Andersson.
Joona concluded he had adopted his first victim’s entire identity.
Nathan managed to track down Jan Andersson’s daughter, Karin, at her place of work: the Bjurfors estate agency in Trelleborg. When he contacted her, she said she hadn’t spoken to her father in twenty years. He had always been an alcoholic loner, but he would send her a Christmas card every year. He still does, but that’s the only indication that he’s alive. She tried to call him at first, but he never answered and never phoned her back. She sent letters and invited him to christenings and crayfish parties, but he never answered and eventually she gave up.
Three of the vehicles turn off in the small village of Brunna, while the fourth carries on to the military base at Granhammar Castle.
The retired foreman, Jan Andersson, owns two small houses in Stigtorp, on the outskirts of Kungsängen. They’re slightly apart from other houses, but not completely isolated.
Many years ago, Jurek murdered Andersson and stole his identity. He draws his pension and pays his bills. This is the identity he uses whenever he has to show ID or travel abroad.
The frozen ground slopes down towards the water. In the steepest parts, bare rocks stick out, but otherwise the pine forest is dark and dense.
The vehicle stops on a forest track to the north of Stigtorp. Saga stays in the car while Joona goes to talk to the rapid response team who will storm the house.
Twenty metres into the forest is a cliff from which you can see the whole of the little community: eleven houses in four clusters.
A white van is parked on the gravel in front of the three buildings belonging to Hultström’s Tractors.
The two houses owned by Jan Andersson are nestled against the edge of the forest.
The rapid response unit can be down in Stigtorp in less than five minutes.
The officers from the other van have already split up. One group is waiting in a RIB boat out in Garnsviken, and the other is approaching the two houses on foot through the forest.
When Joona reaches the team, the officers are sitting on the ground in their heavy protective vests, chatting among themselves. Their breath clouds in the icy air. They’re all clutching semiautomatic rifles in their laps, the most compact version of Heckler & Koch’s G36 series.
One of them is lying on his back with his eyes closed, as if he were trying to sleep; another is eating dried fruit, and offers some to the man sitting beside him.
The men need to be able to switch quickly between extremely demanding situations and rest, moments of high adrenalin and relaxation.
The group leader, known as Thor because of his big beard, has an oddly gentle manner. Joona listens as he gives out orders in a surprisingly soft voice.
‘Was I the only one watching the match when the alarm went off?’ one of them says.
‘It’s always the same,’ another one smiles. ‘The minute you light the barbeque or take a beer out of the fridge.’
‘This counts as a party for me,’ one red-haired officer says.
‘Definitely, as long as the bastard’s actually hiding in that cottage,’ the first one says.
‘Don’t think this is going to be an easy job,’ Joona says.
‘Maybe you don’t know it, but this is exactly the kind of thing we’ve spent years training for: going in and incapacitating someone who’s taken hostages,’ the man with red hair replies, and looks over at Thor.
‘I hope that’s what’s going to happen, but I don’t think it will be,’ Joona says bluntly.
‘Come over here,’ Thor says to him.
They walk behind the black van. The sound of the motorway carries on the wind.
‘What are you doing?’ Thor asks gently.
‘Jurek Walter is dangerous,’ Joona replies.
‘So we’ve been told.’
‘Good,’ Joona says.
He sees his own reflection in the black paint of the van, dressed in a grey suit beside the heavily equipped police officer.
‘Anything else?’ Thor asks.
‘I respect your team. From everything I’ve seen, you’re good … but Jurek is far more dangerous than you imagine.’
‘I’ll raise that with the team.’
‘If you like, I’d be happy to come with you.’
‘Thanks, but we’ll be OK,’ Thor says, and pats Joona on the shoulder with a smile. ‘I mean, we’re talking about one, maximum two perpetrators, aren’t we?’
Joona looks at one of the officers, who’s kneeling down and playing with a police dog.
‘Jurek is an elderly man now,’ Joona says slowly. ‘But he has more experience of combat than any of you comes anywhere close to … He’s been a soldier for years, he’s killed hundreds … and before that he was a child soldier. It’s all he knows.’
‘OK,’ Thor whispers.
‘If he is in that house, most of you are going to die,’ Joona says, looking him in the eye.
‘I certainly hope not,’ Thor says, without looking away. ‘But we’ve already said goodbye to our families.’
‘I know.’
All the officers in the rapid response unit have recorded videos to be given to their families in the event they’re killed in service. They’re stored on USB sticks and kept in sealed envelopes inside a safe back at headquarters.
Thor opens the rear door of the van and takes out a box of distraction grenades, then responds to a call on the radio from the operational commander.
The other team is in position.
The officers get silently to their feet and put on their balaclavas and helmets. Their sem
iautomatics swing soundlessly on their leather straps.
75
Thor and his team follow the steep path down towards the water. They maintain a distance of approximately four metres between them.
The path is covered with pine-needles and cones. The water in the inlet has frozen, the temperature must have dropped at least ten degrees since yesterday.
Thor can’t stop thinking about the tall superintendent with the Finnish accent and deadly serious manner.
Most people tend to be impressed when they meet the rapid response team, but Joona Linna had only seen their weaknesses, and seemed genuinely concerned for their safety.
That annoyed Thor.
And he doesn’t usually let himself get annoyed.
In a childish attempt to seem brave or adult, he’d told him that they’d already said goodbye to their families.
He knows perfectly well that neither he nor anyone else in his team is prepared to die.
They all fend off the thought of death, and tell themselves that they take these risks to help make the world a safer place.
Thor thinks about those brief farewell messages. They were given templates to help them, so they could prepare in advance of the recording. The whole situation was far from natural, and he probably sounded oddly detached as he said goodbye to his mother and his wife Liza.
He knows he looked into the camera when he addressed Liza. He spoke slowly, the way you were supposed to, and repeated that he loved her several times, and apologised for letting her down.
It was only when he started talking to his daughter that the tears appeared. A chasm opened up, quite unexpectedly. All he could do was try to explain to her who he is, so that she’d have something left of him when she grows up.
At the point where the terrain flattens out, the team reaches a junction and turns right. Three hundred metres further on the forest opens onto the broad clearing containing the scattered group of buildings.
Areas of gravel and yellowed grass slope down towards the choppy water.
Thor rests his finger on the grip of his semiautomatic.
He gestures to his team to spread out along the side, passing close to a rusty diesel tank perched on some breezeblocks.
A dog is barking inside one the buildings occupied by Hultström’s Tractors, but the police dog doesn’t react at all, doesn’t even prick its ears, just sticks close to Thor.
The tall, corrugated metal garage blocks their view as they walk past one end of it. Thor swings his rifle quickly round the corner and finds himself looking at the yellow metal trailer of a dumper-truck. A few hundred metres away there’s a house right by the water, with waves lapping across its jetty.
The team moves on. The gravel crunches beneath their heavy boots, and their equipment rattles quietly as they move.
The two houses that Jurek Walter has taken over lie at the far end of the clearing. The front one blocks the second one from sight almost completely. So far Thor can only make out the tiled roof and satellite dish.
The window of the first house is dark, and reflects the cloudy sky.
Thor’s group make no attempt to conceal their approach.
It doesn’t matter if they get seen, because all possible escape routes are covered. The terrain is rough on almost all sides, with bare rocks and steep drops. The forest along the shore is the only real escape route, and that’s where the other team is posted.
Thor’s orders are to storm the house, rescue the hostages and incapacitate the perpetrator.
He has his rifle raised as he marches towards the first building, not taking his eyes off it.
The plaster has crumbled from the end of the building, revealing the brickwork underneath. There’s a grubby lace curtain hanging in the single window.
The dog starts to pant and raises its nose.
‘What’s wrong?’ Thor whispers, moving cautiously sideways across the yard so he can see the other house.
He looks back at the lace curtain.
Did he just spot movement behind it?
His heart starts to beat faster.
He stops and points his rifle at the window.
It was nothing.
He’s about to move on when he sees a shadow behind the curtain, quick movement in the little room.
He gestures to the team that they have a potential hostile ahead.
Thor moves forward slowly, and from the corner of his eye he sees one officer move off to the left, and another sink down on one knee.
Thor’s crosshairs are trained on the window with its peeling wooden frame.
A shadow appears behind the curtain, then a head.
He’s about to pull the trigger when he realises there’s a deer inside the room.
Through the lace curtain he can see the animal’s ears twitch nervously. Its breath billows around its black nose.
He stretches his arm out sideways with his hand clenched and the team spreads out, divides and passes the house on both sides.
Suddenly there’s a clatter of hooves as the deer turns in an instant and rushes out into the forest.
Thor walks round the house and discovers that one wall is missing. There are piles of leaves in the corners, and weeds and scrappy saplings growing from the open floor.
He trains his rifle on the next house.
A red cottage with a glazed veranda, half-hidden by trees, as if it’s being swallowed by the forest.
The house is neglected, but seems to be intact.
All the windows are covered by dark-blue roll-blinds.
Beside the house is a bare patch of cement protected from the wind. Rainwater has frozen to ice in a dome-shaped barbeque that’s standing next to the front door, along with a plastic chair that’s blown over.
They all know what’s expected of them.
Once the door is forced open, Thor will go in with two of his men.
He presses up against the wall beside the door.
Two of his men are aiming their semiautomatics at the house as he pulls on a protective mask and fixes the torch to his rifle.
When the team leader gives the final order to storm the building, the windows are shattered by tear-gas grenades.
They detonate almost simultaneously with a deep sucking sound.
Splinters of glass fall to the ground.
The pale smoke filters out past the roll-blinds and veranda.
Thor is already sweating.
One of the officers saws the front door open with a huge angle-grinder.
Distraction grenades explode in a storm of noise and blinding light.
The door is lifted out and Thor enters the house.
The torch on his rifle picks out a smoke-filled tunnel through the hall and into the kitchen.
Two officers follow him, covering the sides of the house.
He can already feel the tear-gas burning the bare skin not covered by his mask.
He can hear the dog barking again in the distance.
Thor thinks about the beautiful police officer who was waiting in the car. He couldn’t help glancing in her direction.
The windscreen reflected the treetops and white sky. Behind the reflection he could see her sorrowful face, as if in a dream.
After securing the kitchen and bathroom, Thor approaches the closed door to the bedroom. The floorboards creak under his weight. He gestures to one of the officers, who steps up and stands beside the door.
The torch on his rifle trembles on the door handle and brass lock.
Thor is breathing faster now, feeling that he can’t quite get enough oxygen.
He counts down from three, puts his finger on the trigger, then walks up and kicks the door open. A grey cloud billows out towards him and for several seconds he can’t see a thing.
76
The operation is over by the time Joona and Saga come down to Jan Andersson’s house. The National Response Unit are still searching the rest of the area with the dog.
Everyone knew that the odds of taking Jurek by surprise
and incapacitating him weren’t great, but seeing as their main goal is the rescue of Pellerina and Valeria, they had no choice but to go ahead with the operation.
Joona looks inside the first house as he passes. There are sacks of grass seed and compost on the floor, barbeque tools hanging on a hook on the wall, and a rusty animal feeder is swaying from the lamp-hook.
Thor is standing in the doorway of the larger house with his gas-mask in one hand. His neck is red and his eyes are streaming.
‘We’re all still alive,’ he says in a hoarse voice when he catches sight of Joona.
‘I’m pleased about that.’
‘You’ll have to put surveillance on this place and call us in if he comes back.’
‘He won’t come back here,’ Joona replies.
‘You haven’t been inside yet. Are you sure that this was his place? We didn’t find any weapons, nothing.’
Joona goes over and topples the domed barbeque. The ice breaks and black water runs out. Among the clumps of wet ashes on the grass is a vacuum-packed pistol.
Thor’s pale blue eyes stare at the gun.
‘How did you know that?’
‘Jurek isn’t a barbeque kind of guy,’ Joona says, drawing his Colt Combat and releasing the safety catch.
It’s a good hiding place for a reserve weapon, easy to grab if you have to leave quickly. Jurek had moved the barbeque from the dilapidated house, but left the cooking implements behind.
The wind comes straight off the water here, and no one would have a barbeque right in front of their door when the paved area was more sheltered.
Saga pulls her pistol from her shoulder holster and follows Joona into the house.
The floor in the gloomy hallway creaks. A single military jacket is hanging on a hook, and there’s a pair of muddy boots standing on a rack.
They carry on into the kitchen. The blind has been torn down and a tear-gas canister is lying amidst the broken glass on the linoleum floor.
On top of the dirty cooker there’s a frying pan with a thick layer of grease the colour of wax. A coffee-cup, fork, and clean plate have been left on the table out on the veranda.
There are dead flies and wasps along the bottom of all the windows.
