Hostage

by Kristina Ohlsson

  ‘Listen to me,’ Green said, attempting to look trustworthy. ‘Of course it’s up to you how you choose to allocate your time, but if I were you I’d drop this idea of trying to find a connection between Zakaria Khelifi and Tennyson Cottage. Khelifi has never set foot in the place, and nor has anyone he knows. Whoever wrote that note has simply bundled together two things that have nothing to do with one another.’

  ‘In which case, it’s still interesting that the person in question chose to focus on Tennyson Cottage, which is practically unknown.’

  ‘Exactly. And we’re working flat out on that angle, believe me. As I explained, there are very few people who have something to say about Tennyson Cottage, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to flush out whoever decided to use it in that note.’

  ‘Of course, it could just be someone who had read the article,’ Bruce said. ‘And got real mad.’

  Green shook his head decisively.

  ‘Have you seen it? Tennyson Cottage is only mentioned in passing. The stupid fucker who wrote it had no idea what a scoop he had, right there in front of his nose.’

  Green had a point. Bruce’s interpretation of the piece had been exactly the same. Tennyson Cottage was mentioned, but nothing more. It wasn’t enough to motivate a reaction like this. Unless of course, the threat was 90 per cent about Khelifi, with Tennyson Cottage as the icing on the top. In that case, the article could well have provided the perfect inspiration.

  ‘We don’t know what’s more important to the hijacker,’ he said to Green. ‘Tennyson Cottage or Khelifi.’

  ‘No, we don’t,’ Green replied.

  Then the conversation was over. Green had nothing else to say, and Bruce had no more questions. He wanted the names of those who had been held in Tennyson Cottage, but Green was only prepared to give him the two who had been released. That would have to do for now.

  ‘By the way, what happened to the other guy who was released?’ Bruce said. ‘The one who didn’t feature in the newspaper article?’

  ‘You could say he’s living a quiet life. Don’t you worry about him.’

  Bruce gathered up his things and got ready to leave the room. But none of the CIA agents on the other side of the table moved.

  ‘Now that we’ve finished talking about Tennyson Cottage, we can discuss another matter that has come to our attention,’ Green said.

  Bruce stopped in mid-movement.

  ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘The commanding officer on board Flight 573, Karim Sassi.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘We believe he’s working with the terrorists who have threatened the plane.’

  22

  STOCKHOLM, 12:15

  As this was the first time the Minister for Justice himself had contacted Fredrika directly, she hurried along to his office. She had seen the news reports on the internet, and she was scared. The whole story was out there. She still hadn’t heard from Alex about how the attempt at an emergency landing had gone. Was it even a possibility now that the whole world was following developments minute by minute? Who knew who was hiding among the sea of people? Perhaps this was exactly what the hijackers wanted – for the media to start reporting so that they would have an insight into what was going on.

  Spencer called.

  ‘Has the world gone mad?’

  ‘It seems that way, doesn’t it?’

  ‘When do you think you’ll be home tonight?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I mean, I’m not with the police any more, so it shouldn’t be too late.’

  ‘Shall I pick the kids up from nursery anyway?’

  ‘That would be great.’

  Kids at nursery, a ring on her finger, how quickly had that happened? Not a day went by without Fredrika thinking about it. Spencer didn’t seem at all inclined to such musings.

  ‘I thought we could have an Indian takeaway,’ he said.

  ‘Sounds like a good idea. Listen, I have to go. I’ll call you later.’

  Fredrika said hello to the Minister’s secretary and knocked on Muhammed Haddad’s door. Her boss was already sitting at the conference table with Haddad.

  ‘Thank you for coming so quickly. Please sit down,’ the Minister said. ‘I don’t think I need to explain how frustrating and alarming I find this whole situation.’

  Indeed he didn’t.

  ‘Apart from the fact that it’s extremely worrying to know that four hundred Swedish and American citizens are trapped on board an SAS plane at thirty thousand feet, it concerns me that those of us still on the ground are having difficulty in co-ordinating our efforts.’

  Fredrika listened without knowing where this conversation was heading.

  ‘It has come to my attention that we are having some problems with our American colleagues, who want to take and give nothing in return, and I also feel that our interaction with the police could be improved. We have several hours of intensive work ahead of us, whatever happens, and to be honest I’m not happy that we’re communicating with the police and Säpo only via the telephone and isolated meetings.’

  The Minister for Justice turned to Fredrika.

  ‘I want someone on the spot with the police, someone who can act as liaison officer between the government and the police, and who can report directly to the press secretary and government officials. And to me, obviously. What would you say if I asked you to be that person?’

  Fredrika blinked.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You were handpicked from the applicants for your current post to deal with security matters here at the Justice Department, among other things. You know the police set-up inside out. I can’t think of a more suitable candidate for the role. Your background gives you a legitimacy that none of the rest of us would have.’

  ‘And Säpo?’

  ‘I’ll make sure that you have access to the areas and information you need. What do you say?’

  There wasn’t one iota of hesitation in Fredrika’s mind.

  ‘I say yes.’

  And that was it. Fredrika Bergman was – temporarily – on her way back to the police.

  With a feeling that she had stepped back in time two years, Fredrik walked into Alex’s office less than an hour later. It wasn’t the same office, but it was the same Alex.

  ‘Back again,’ he said.

  ‘It’s only temporary.’

  ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’

  She remained standing. Her handbag slid off her shoulder and she heard it land on the floor with a thud.

  ‘Sit down,’ Alex said. ‘Säpo and I have just discussed the allocation of the most urgent tasks; we’ve worked out what they’re going to do and what the National Bureau of Investigation will do. I’m heading out to try to get hold of Karim Sassi’s family, along with an investigator from Säpo. Do you want to come?’

  Fredrika was confused.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think I’m here to go out and about with you.’

  ‘So why are you here?’ Alex sounded annoyed.

  ‘Well, I’m supposed to act as a kind of liaison officer, make sure the communication channels between the police and the government office are kept open so that we don’t end up out of the loop. It’s important that we’re updated on a regular basis.’

  ‘So what are you going to do? Just sit here?’

  She swallowed. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Alex looked pleased.

  ‘I just need to call in and see where Säpo are up to,’ Fredrika added.

  ‘I’ve just come from there – I can give you the latest,’ Alex said.

  Fredrika got up and followed Alex out of the room, the sight of his broad back making her feel safe. The corridor on which the National Bureau of Investigation was located looked just like every other corridor in Police HQ, and it smelled the same too. Coffee. Always coffee.

  ‘Does it feel good to be back?’

  ‘Alex, I’m not back. I’m just here because of the hijacking.’

  He didn�
��t say anything – he didn’t need to. She could tell exactly what he was thinking: that she was fooling herself and everyone around her. That she belonged in the police.

  God knows where I belong, Fredrika thought. Everywhere and nowhere.

  She was suddenly overwhelmed by memories of the year in New York. Endless days spent pushing her son’s buggy up and down the streets of Manhattan, thinking she was the luckiest woman in the world. It had been good for them to get away. Spencer had had the chance to grow, to heal after everything that had gone wrong. He was only a few years away from retirement age, but he had made it clear to both Fredrika and his superiors that he intended to carry on working. For a long time.

  The underground car park was just the same; several storeys deep, the air full of cold and exhaust fumes. She didn’t like being down there, and got in the car as quickly as she could. Alex explained why they were going to speak to Karim’s family, and the colour drained from Fredrika’s face.

  ‘Hang on a minute – are you telling me you think the captain is involved in this whole business?’

  ‘We don’t think anything and we know virtually nothing,’ Alex replied. ‘But from what we’ve seen, Karim Sassi has been in contact with one of the mobile phones that was used to make the bomb threats in Stockholm yesterday. And that’s why we want to talk to his family, find out whether they noticed if he seemed tense or was behaving oddly before this trip.’

  ‘Can’t you ask him straight out? Over the phone?’

  Alex manoeuvred the car out of the cramped car park.

  ‘And risk a situation where he feels pressurised, and does something really stupid? We don’t actually know if he is involved. But if he is, then I don’t like the idea of discussing it over the phone.’

  He was right, of course. It was a nightmare for all concerned if Karim was part of the plan. If the terrorists had the pilot on their side, then they didn’t need bombs.

  ‘If the worst comes to the worst,’ Fredrika said slowly. ‘If we find out that Karim really is a part of what’s going on . . .’

  She fell silent.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What then? Could you call Erik and ask him to take over the controls, if that’s the case?’

  She could see that the same thought had occurred to Alex.

  ‘I don’t know. If we do end up facing that situation, I’m afraid they would take me off the case. After what happened with Peder.’

  Fredrika knew exactly what he meant. Peder’s actions two years ago when he shot dead the man who had murdered his brother had led to a major internal investigation. There had been endless discussions about what could have been done differently. How could the tragedy have been avoided? Because it was a tragedy, there was no other way of looking at it. Peder had lost his job, and the police had lost a valued colleague. Fredrika hadn’t given much thought to what the world had lost through Peder’s crime; from what she had heard, the man he had shot would be missed by no one.

  Unlike everyone on board Flight 573.

  Going to Karim Sassi’s house seemed like a good idea. What, if anything, had this married father with young children got himself into? What was he hiding, this man who carried the responsibility for the lives of over four hundred people?

  No crime could be planned and carried out without a single person realising what was going on.

  If Karim was mixed up in the hijack, they would soon know about it.

  23

  13:00

  They couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to go over to the cells and talk to Zakaria Khelifi. Eden Lundell knew he had been told that an entire jumbo jet had been hijacked in his honour.

  She hated the fact that a plane was under threat rather than a terrestrial target. The situation was slipping through her fingers, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to change that. And the time she had at her disposal was disappearing fast.

  The press hadn’t revealed exactly which flight was involved, which meant that virtually every single individual with a relative who was currently on board a plane was calling the police to find out if the person they knew was at risk. Eden just couldn’t understand how responsible adults could behave in that way. The newspapers had made it absolutely clear that the hijacked plane was on its way to the USA, so why would someone whose relative was on the way to Lanzarote call the police?

  Sebastian had gently suggested that she should be a little more self-critical. They had decided against confirming the story in the mass media, which had led to increased speculation.

  ‘We have to give them something,’ he said.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Anything at all. Confirm that there has been a threat, at least. That it definitely involves a flight to the USA and nowhere else. We don’t have to be any more specific than that.’

  The police and Foreign Office switchboards were jammed. Eden had refused to release the passenger lists, which meant that those who called didn’t get an answer to their questions. It wouldn’t work for long, but it would have to do for the time being.

  Eden wanted to question Khelifi herself, or Zakaria as she usually thought of him, and there were several people who objected to that particular suggestion. Her own head of department was very clear about what a stupid idea it was.

  ‘Eden, someone in your position doesn’t conduct an interrogation.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since always. You need to leave this to one of Dennis’s team.’

  Eden informed Dennis, the head of investigation, that she would be happy to take one of his team along with her, but that she absolutely intended to be there. She heard her boss sigh behind her as she left his office.

  But Eden didn’t care. She knew when she wanted something, and she knew how to get it. Alex Recht and Fredrika Bergman had just gone to talk to Karim Sassi’s family, and Säpo were going to speak to Zakaria Khelifi at the same time; after all, he was the protagonist in the drama.

  Eden couldn’t help thinking about Fredrika. She had seen the way Alex looked at her, and thought she could sense something akin to desire. It wasn’t necessarily sexual; it could just as easily be material or intellectual, and Eden felt that Alex’s desire tended towards the intellectual. Strange. She couldn’t understand why Fredrika and Alex worked so well together when they were so different.

  One of the investigators met her in the custody block. Eden wanted to interview Zakaria in his cell. Shake him up a bit.

  A guard led them to the cell and unlocked the heavy door. Khelifi sat up on his bed as soon as Eden walked in, with the investigator following two steps behind.

  Eden made the introductions and pulled up a chair. She sat down and left her colleague standing; he would soon realise that he was surplus to requirements in any case.

  She could see that Zakaria was wondering why she was there. High-ranking officials from Säpo were rarely, if ever, involved in interviews, but Eden wasn’t like everyone else.

  ‘I would like answers to a few questions,’ she began. ‘You have very little to gain by failing to co-operate. Okay?’

  Zakaria was pale, and the green T-shirt he was wearing made him look seasick. His expression was the same one she had seen on the faces of so many others in his situation. Provoked. Angry. Unavoidable emotions for someone who had seen his life’s work smashed to pieces.

  ‘I’ve got nothing to do with the plane that’s been hijacked.’ Eden took out her cigarettes.

  ‘Would you like one?’

  She saw her colleague open his mouth and close it again. Zakaria hesitated for a second, then took a cigarette. Eden didn’t hesitate at all. She took one for herself then lit both.

  ‘Let me explain,’ she said, discreetly blowing smoke over her shoulder. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you’re involved in the hijack or not; you might still know something that’s important to us.’

  Zakaria shuffled backwards on his bed, puffing greedily on his cigarette. He tapped the ash into an empty coffee cup, and Eden automati
cally did the same.

  ‘I’m going to die if you send me back to Algeria,’ he said.

  There was no hint of a plea in his voice. His words were a statement, a simple transfer of information.

  ‘Our assessment of the situation is different,’ Eden said.

  Zakaria leaned his head against the wall.

  ‘In that case, you’re crazy.’

  Eden was sitting with her legs crossed as usual. The cigarette felt as familiar between her fingers as the weight of her handbag over her shoulder.

  ‘We’ll take the responsibility for our decision,’ she said.

  ‘To protect national security?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  She stubbed out her cigarette.

  ‘Listen to me, Zakaria. Right now, several hundred people are being held hostage on a plane thirty thousand feet up in the air. We have reason to believe that the person who is behind all this is on board that plane. And we believe there is a risk that this will end in tragedy.’

  She looked out of the small window. It was just possible to sense the grey, overcast sky outside.

  ‘And the really bad news as far as you’re concerned is that it won’t make any difference. You’re going home, Zakaria. I was informed just an hour ago that the government will not revise its decision. It cannot and will not negotiate with terrorists. If you want to stay in Sweden, you’ll have to offer us something better than a hostage scenario.’

  Zakaria burst out furiously: ‘How many times do I have to tell you, this is nothing to do with me!’

  Eden shrugged.

  ‘As I’ve already said, it doesn’t make any difference. What I’m trying to explain to you is that if some close friend or relative of yours is sitting on that plane, then that person is risking death or a lengthy prison sentence for nothing. So you would be doing them a great service by co-operating with us.’

  ‘That’s the second time you’ve mentioned co-operating,’ Zakaria said.

  ‘And I shall carry on mentioning it,’ Eden said. ‘It’s a good idea.’