Hostage

by Kristina Ohlsson

  Slowly, Fatima reached out and grasped the shiny metal.

  She had to act right now, because she wouldn’t have this opportunity again. She would try to reach the button, then hurl herself at Karim. And say a prayer that Erik would move fast.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Gripped the fork as tightly as she could and felt the pain in her head roll backwards and forwards like ocean waves.

  She was ready now.

  Now.

  Now.

  64

  STOCKHOLM, 23:05

  A sister and a brother. A woman and the love of her life. Unbreakable bonds and an act of desperation. In one way so simple, in so many others completely incomprehensible. And still so many missing answers to the questions they wanted to ask.

  In any other investigation, everything they had found out over the last couple of hours would have been regarded as a breakthrough, but not this time.

  The passengers were still in a hostage situation up in the sky, and the Americans were still intending to shoot down the plane. And they were almost out of time. It was a matter of minutes rather than hours before the disaster would become a reality.

  ‘Please don’t let there be a bomb on board,’ Alex said, as he stood beside Fredrika, looking out of the window.

  Darkness and rain. Not a glimmer of light. Nowhere.

  Fredrika took Alex’s hand.

  ‘It’s going to be all right,’ she said.

  ‘Do you really believe that?’

  No.

  Nothing was as it should be. The government had recently issued a statement, saying that it had revised its decision to deport Zakaria Khelifi, and this had unleashed a storm of questions and reactions in the media. And in the middle of this inferno, the plane continued its journey towards destruction.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘But how can it be all right, Fredrika? They’ll run out of fuel in half an hour.’

  ‘We still don’t know how Erik has got on.’

  Our last hope.

  Alex glanced over his shoulder.

  ‘The others will think we’re an item if we carry on standing here like this.’

  She squeezed his hand.

  ‘Who cares. We’re police officers, after all. We’re supposed to screw around more than other people.’

  Alex’s jaw dropped, and Fredrika smiled.

  ‘Don’t you remember Peder saying that?’

  Alex pulled his hand away when she mentioned the name of their former colleague.

  ‘I remember.’

  The strain felt like a physical pressure in Fredrika’s chest. That was one of the reasons why she had left the police – the fact that the job demanded such terrible sacrifices. All the time. Non-stop.

  Forgive me for deserting you when you had already lost Peder, but I just couldn’t cope any more.

  ‘Is Spencer at home with the kids?’ Alex asked.

  The question surprised Fredrika.

  ‘No, he’s in Café Opera, drinking himself under the table.’

  Alex laughed quietly.

  ‘Sorry. I’m old and stupid. Of course he’s at home with the kids.’

  Spencer had called not long ago, and Fredrika had rejected the call. She didn’t have time for him right now. Nor for the children. God knows what state she would be in when a new day dawned, bringing the drama to an end one way or another.

  ‘Am I interrupting something?’

  Eden was standing behind them. Fredrika got the feeling she had been there for a while.

  ‘No,’ Alex said.

  Eden asked them to come along to one of the meeting rooms, where Dennis and Sebastian were already waiting.

  ‘I heard back from the Germans,’ Eden began. ‘They said they definitely have no knowledge of Sofi.’

  Dennis adjusted his collar. He was wearing a khaki shirt that Fredrika thought would have suited Spencer.

  ‘In that case, I can only conclude that they’ve missed what this girl has been up to, because you don’t embark on an operation like this unless you know what you’re doing. If she is involved, of course.’

  This could well be true, and there were other aspects of what they had learned that frightened Fredrika.

  ‘It doesn’t matter whether or not they know who she is. Sofi lives in Germany. The man we assume was her boyfriend was held in an American detention facility in Afghanistan after travelling to Pakistan to attend terrorist training camps. And the Swedish government recently decided to deport her brother Zakaria,’ Eden summarised.

  All day – all day – Fredrika had been on Zakaria’s side, but now she didn’t know what to think.

  They had to get hold of Sofi. Without delay.

  ‘How are we going to find her?’ she said.

  ‘We contacted the airport police and they found Zakaria’s car in the long-stay car park, on the same level as the waste bin where the mobile phones were,’ Eden said. ‘Do you know where it was parked?’

  ‘You just said it was in the long-stay car park,’ Alex said.

  ‘I meant more specifically. It was also on the same level as Karim Sassi’s car.’

  ‘But how the hell did we miss it, in that case?’ Dennis said. ‘We were there, for God’s sake, taking fingerprints from Sassi’s car!’

  ‘Yes,’ Eden said. ‘But at the time we didn’t know we needed to look at the cars nearby, did we?’

  ‘Could that have been where they met?’ Fredrika said. ‘Is that how she got Karim’s fingerprints on the phone?’

  Eden made a note on the pad in front of her.

  ‘We don’t know that, and at the moment I don’t think we should waste any time on finding out.’

  Her phone rang and she answered.

  ‘I haven’t got time to talk now, I’ll call you later.’

  Fredrika guessed it was a personal call, and this was confirmed when Eden went on:

  ‘Well, if she’s got a temperature, give her some Alvedon. Seriously, Mikael, this will have to wait until I get home. No, I have no idea when I’ll be back. If I’m not going to make it before morning, I’ll call you. Bye.’

  She ended the call and slipped the phone back in her pocket.

  Fredrika couldn’t take her eyes off Eden. There was something about her posture and her tone of voice that sent shivers down Fredrika’s spine. It wasn’t just that Eden was under pressure; she sounded as if she couldn’t give a damn about her children. But surely that couldn’t be true. Could it?

  ‘However, we do need to find out how Karim Sassi fits into all this,’ Eden said.

  At last.

  ‘That’s the only major question we don’t have an answer to as yet,’ Dennis said.

  ‘And ironically, it’s the only one that interests us right now,’ Alex said.

  ‘There’s something else I find strange about all this,’ Fredrika said. ‘The timing. There’s no way the person behind the hijacking only got to work yesterday. This has taken an enormous amount of preparation.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Alex said. ‘And the Germans received that email several weeks ago.’

  ‘I think we all feel the same,’ Eden said. ‘And I’m wondering if this is what happened: the hijacking was originally planned only as an act of revenge, with the aim of getting Tennyson Cottage shut down. But then Zakaria was unexpectedly detained, and the perpetrator then set the wheels in motion earlier than he or she had intended, with the aim of securing Zakaria’s release as well.’

  Fredrika could accept that explanation; it seemed pretty credible.

  ‘But what about Karim Sassi?’ Sebastian said. ‘How the hell did he end up in this mess? I mean, Sofi is the one who obviously has a reason to do something like this for her brother. But where does Karim fit in?’

  ‘He’s the one who’s executing the whole thing,’ Dennis said.

  ‘Yes, but why?’

  Fredrika couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

  ‘Could it be that he has no choice?’

  Eden put down her p
en in frustration.

  ‘How is that possible, Fredrika? I hear what you’re saying. You think Karim is a victim rather than a perpetrator. But the fact remains – it’s Karim and no one else who constitutes the greatest danger on board that plane right now. If he’s not doing it of his own free will, what kind of pressure has he been subjected to?’

  Fredrika had no answer to that question. She had asked it herself, over and over again. What would it take to make a man sacrifice the lives of hundreds of people, including his own, against his will?

  She didn’t know, couldn’t come up with a sensible explanation.

  At that moment, Alex’s phone rang.

  It was Erik.

  65

  FLIGHT 573

  At first, he hadn’t been able to work out what was wrong. Everything had happened so fast. So incredibly fast.

  The fork.

  The fork in Fatima’s hand, dripping with blood when she opened the cockpit door and fell into Erik’s arms. Lydia had to step back quickly.

  ‘Oh, God, I think I’ve killed him.’

  Fatima’s voice was no more than a faint whimper, but Erik heard every word. He let her sink to the floor, took the fork out of her hand and stepped over her body into the cockpit. Lydia knelt down beside her.

  Karim was lying on the floor clutching his neck as the blood spurted out across the carpet. Erik hesitated before bending down to check if he was conscious. He gripped the slippery fork as he touched Karim’s shoulder.

  Karim raised his head and looked at Erik. He was weeping.

  ‘Forgive me, Erik, please forgive me. I had no choice.’

  Erik felt the rage explode in his body.

  ‘No choice? Are you crazy?’

  His voice belonged to someone else. It was deeper and louder than it had ever been before.

  ‘My family,’ Karim whispered. ‘They said they’d kill my family. It was them or me, so of course it had to be me.’

  Erik didn’t understand what Karim was saying. He could hear the words, but they didn’t mean anything.

  ‘Who said that?’

  Karim coughed and choked. His head sank back.

  Erik looked at the wound, then straightened up. Resolutely, he got out the first-aid box and found a dressing. The wound looked horrible, but he didn’t think it was life-threatening.

  ‘Who, Karim?’

  ‘Forgive me, I had no choice.’

  Karim’s voice was fading. Ironically, he looked calmer than he had done all day – as if he had found peace.

  ‘But I do,’ Erik said, applying the dressing with rough hands.

  Karim groaned.

  ‘Just so you know, I’m taking command,’ Erik said. ‘We’ll be landing shortly.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Karim said again. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  But Erik had neither the desire nor the capacity to forgive him. Not here, not now. He found a short strap in one of the lockers and bound Karim’s hands behind his back. Lydia appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she said.

  It was a stupid question, but Erik thought he knew what she meant.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Everything’s okay now. Get someone to take care of Fatima, then come back in here. Close the door behind you.’

  When Lydia had left the cockpit and closed the door, Erik bent down so that his face was close to Karim’s.

  ‘Answer me,’ he said. ‘Who told you your family was going to die?’

  ‘I don’t know. They’re being held hostage.’

  ‘Your family?’

  ‘Yes.’ His speech was becoming disjointed. ‘Don’t know where. You have to do as they say, Erik. Don’t divert away from Washington or my family will die.’

  Was he out of his mind? Did he really think Erik was going to let hundreds of people die, himself included, in order to save Karim’s family?

  ‘No chance,’ Erik said. ‘Absolutely no chance.’

  He slipped into Karim’s seat. So they were close to Washington, DC; if he had to make an emergency landing, it would have to be there.

  Karim managed one last sentence before he lost consciousness.

  ‘She said it was for Flight TU003.’

  Erik was barely listening.

  ‘Who said what?’

  But Karim was gone – and soon, Erik realised that he had fresh problems.

  Big problems.

  ‘This can’t be happening,’ he whispered.

  Someone rang the bell; Lydia was back. Erik let her in and yelled at her to keep an eye on Karim.

  ‘Are we going to land?’ she said.

  ‘Too bloody right we are,’ Erik said. ‘We’re almost out of fuel.’

  The colour drained from Lydia’s face as Erik made an emergency call.

  ‘Mayday, Mayday, this is Co-pilot Erik Recht.’

  The words came automatically, almost as if he had pressed ‘Play’ on a recording.

  A flight controller in Washington, DC responded.

  ‘Erik Recht, we have received clear orders to deny your flight permission to land.’

  ‘I know that,’ Erik said. ‘But Captain Sassi is no longer in command.’

  ‘Where is Captain Sassi?’

  Erik hesitated.

  ‘He’s lying on the floor, seriously injured.’

  Silence.

  ‘I will pass on what you say to a higher authority,’ the voice said eventually. ‘Until you are given permission to land, your plane is still not allowed to enter US airspace.’

  ‘Hang on, listen to me! We have hardly any fuel left; you have to give us permission to land right away!’

  ‘I’ll get back to you.’

  And the voice was gone.

  Erik tried to keep his fear and stress in check. Then he addressed the passengers and crew:

  ‘This is your co-pilot speaking. For various reasons we have experienced a considerable delay, but it now appears that we will be landing very shortly. I would therefore ask all passengers to return to your seats immediately and fasten your seatbelts.’

  How much time did they have?

  A jumbo jet with no fuel could glide a very long way, but Erik didn’t want to end up in that situation. Attempting to land with failing engines would end in disaster. They had to land now, without delay. Anything was better than an emergency landing.

  The loudspeaker crackled into life:

  ‘Co-pilot Recht, you are speaking to Andrew Hoffman, US military air surveillance.’

  It was the same man who had called earlier, the one who had said they didn’t have permission to land.

  Erik answered.

  ‘I understand that Captain Sassi is no longer in command.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘Are you alone in the cockpit at the moment?’

  ‘The answer is no, I have a stewardess by the name of Lydia with me. And Captain Sassi, but he’s unconscious.’

  ‘No one else?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  This was followed by silence, and Erik realised he hadn’t given Hoffman the answer he wanted.

  ‘Co-pilot Recht, I repeat: is there anyone else in the cockpit apart from yourself, a woman called Lydia, and Karim Sassi?’

  ‘No.’

  What the hell was this all about?

  ‘How did you get back into the cockpit?’

  Erik was in despair. He didn’t have time for an interrogation.

  ‘Another stewardess who was in the cockpit with Captain Sassi managed to put him out of action, then she opened the door for me.’

  ‘Did anyone apart from yourself try to gain access to the cockpit at any stage?’

  Fuck. The American Erik had knocked out.

  ‘Yes, a man. He was behaving in a threatening manner; he said he would help me if I could just get him into the cockpit, but for a start I couldn’t get in there myself, and secondly, I didn’t know who he was.’

  ‘I understand,’ Hoffman said. ‘Where is this man now?’

 
‘He’s lying on the floor outside the cockpit door.’

  ‘He’s lying on the floor?’

  ‘Listen to me, we’re almost out of fuel and I must . . .’

  The voice that interrupted him sounded like a clap of thunder.

  ‘You are not calling the shots here, Co-pilot Recht. All you have to do is keep calm and await instructions. Why is the man lying on the floor? Is he hurt?’

  ‘I knocked him out. I had no choice.’

  Erik could hear Hoffman breathing heavily.

  ‘I’m sorry – you knocked him out?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And now you claim you’re in command of the plane? That a stewardess managed to put Captain Sassi out of action all by herself, then opened the door for you?’

  This couldn’t be happening. For the first time in his life, Erik experienced something close to sheer panic.

  ‘Please, you have to listen to me. I . . .’

  ‘Co-pilot Recht, I have no reason to distrust you. But tell me one thing. Given that you’ve just said that an operative of the US Defense Service is lying unconscious on the floor, how am I supposed to know that everything else is in order?’

  An operative of the US Defense Service?

  Erik shook his head.

  ‘I didn’t know he was telling the truth,’ he said. ‘And I couldn’t take the risk.’

  The fuel gauge was dangerously close to zero. Erik couldn’t take his eyes off it. When the fuel ran out, the engines would die. And then the situation really would be critical.

  ‘In that case, allow me to clarify my question: How do I know that Karim Sassi hasn’t in fact taken you hostage, and is forcing you to talk to me and say the things you’re saying?’

  There were no words. Erik sat there in silence.

  The voice went on: ‘As you must realise, it is not possible for us to revise our earlier decision merely on the basis of what you’re telling me now. If you need to effect an emergency landing, then you will have to contact an airport outside the USA and hope you have better luck there.’

  ‘But we’re all going to die!’ Erik roared. ‘We’re out of fuel, I can’t change course and go somewhere else!’

  Hoffman’s voice was ice-cold and crystal clear when he replied: ‘You are not landing on American soil. Do you understand?’