straightened up and forced a smile.
“I’ll come back tomorrow and tell you what’s going on with the investigation. Take care of yourself.”
AT HOME there were wild scenes of joy with Sammie, and he was also given a brief stroll to pee while Krister fixed lunch. She was allowed to pick anything she wanted. It was pasta with Gorgonzola sauce and a tomato and basil salad. They spoke about everything except yesterday’s events. She couldn’t face it. The black hole was too big, the voices too insistent. Krister understood and talked about other things.
“What was that about Tommy having dinner here tomorrow?”
“He had such a strong reaction when I told him about Jenny. He wants to talk to her. He went on and on about it being everyone’s responsibility and that all skinheads are our children. Krister, I think we should let him take this up with Jenny! It can’t do any harm, anyway. He’s the only cop I know who works actively for Amnesty International. He’s so involved.”
He nodded, noticing that she was eating unusually little. He secretly scrutinized her. Normally she pulsated with energy, but now her vitality and power seemed diminished. They had known each other for sixteen years, but he had never seen her like this before.
The telephone rang. It was Sven Andersson. He wondered how she was feeling and whether she was able to come down to headquarters.
“I’ll drive you, dear. Then call me when you’re ready to come home and I’ll pick you up,” said Krister. It would be good for her to have something else to think about. Although sitting and looking at photos of the ones who had beat her up less than twenty-four hours earlier was probably not the best distraction, of course.
THE SUPERINTENDENT and Tommy were waiting for her. Before them on the table lay closed folders of criminal records. Andersson patted one and said, “We’ll talk first. A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours. Especially for you. How are you doing?”
“Well, so-so,” Irene replied. “I was lucky. It’s worse for Jimmy.”
“I talked to the hospital an hour ago. He has to stay there at least another night. But we have to talk about this damned mess of an investigation. As I said, a lot has happened. We’ve got Narcotics involved with Billdal. First they give us a lousy little assistant, and then the whole division comes and takes over!”
“Sven, please. Don’t call Jimmy ‘a lousy little assistant.’”
“Hmm. It turns out that International has had a motorcycle gang on the west side of Göteborg under surveillance for several months. They’re suspected of smuggling in large quantities of narcotics via Holland and Denmark. These scumbags are connected to the Hell’s Angels, the gang that you and Jimmy ran into. They call themselves ... ‘Ded skvadron n-o one.’”
She understood that he meant “Death Squadron No. 1.” Without laughing she said, “I wonder if they can spell it. What did the Narcs find out at the cottage in Billdal?”
Tommy took over. “Actually quite a bit. The grenade you talked about yesterday left a small crater. The door of the cottage was broken in. We found some pizza boxes and empty beer cans in the kitchen. In the little bedroom there was a bed, and on it was a brand-new down sleeping bag. On the floor was a plastic box and a receipt from Allsport on Södra Vägen dated last Friday. Today we checked with the staff at the sporting goods store and it turned out that Bobo Torsson bought it.”
“Excellent! But you’ll have to excuse someone who was just hit hard on the head—what does this all mean? Von Knecht? Pirjo and the murder bomb? Shorty, Bobo, and Hell’s Angels?”
Both the superintendent and Tommy stared at her for a long time. Finally Tommy said, “And it gets even messier. We knew about it yesterday, but didn’t want to tell you. We didn’t want to upset you. Bobo Torsson is dead.”
“Torsson is dead? Keep going, before I fall over!”
“Remember the car bomb in the parking lot at the Delsjön golf course early yesterday morning?”
Was it really only yesterday? It felt like several years ago, but she nodded to show that she was following. She began to understand the reason for Andersson’s restrained agitation when he’d come to see her at the hospital.
Tommy said dramatically, “The techs found parts of a body, including a finger. The fingerprint shows that it was Bobo Torsson who was blown sky-high! And the car turned out to be