of course, no professional photographer, and the quality left something to be desired. But the best images were sold the next day to an evening newspaper for an obscene sum of money.
Figuerola was the only police officer participating in the day's raids who encountered an unexpected incident. She had back-up from the Norrmalm team and three colleagues from S.I.S. when at noon she walked through the front door of the building on Artillerigatan and went up the stairs to the top-floor apartment, registered in the name of Bellona Inc.
The operation had been planned at short notice. As soon as the group was assembled outside the door of the apartment, she gave the go-ahead. Two burly officers from the Norrmalm team raised a forty-kilo steel battering ram and opened the door with two well-aimed blows. The team, equipped with bulletproof vests and assault rifles, took control of the apartment within ten seconds of the door being forced.
According to surveillance carried out at dawn that morning, five individuals identified as members of the Section had arrived at the apartment that morning. All five were apprehended and put in handcuffs.
Figuerola was wearing a protective vest. She went through the apartment, which had been the headquarters of the Section since the '60s, and flung open one door after another. She was going to need an archaeologist to sort through the reams and reams of paper that filled the rooms.
A few seconds after she entered the apartment, she opened the door to a small room towards the back and discovered that it was used for overnight stays. She found herself eye to eye with Jonas Sandberg. He had been a question mark during that morning's assignment of tasks, as the surveillance officer detailed to watch him had lost track of him the evening before. His car had been parked on Kungsholmen and he had not been home to his apartment during the night. This morning they had not expected to locate and apprehend him.
They man the place at night for security reasons. Of course. And Sandberg sleeps over after the night shift.
Sandberg had on only his underpants and seemed to be dazed with sleep. He reached for his service weapon on the bedside table, but Figuerola bent over and swept the weapon away from him on to the floor.
"Jonas Sandberg... you are under arrest as a suspect and accessory to the murders of Gunnar Bjorck and Alexander Zalachenko, and as an accomplice in the attempted murders of Mikael Blomkvist and Erika Berger. Now get your trousers on."
Sandberg threw a punch at Figuerola. She blocked it instinctively.
"You must be joking," she said. She took hold of his arm and twisted his wrist so hard that he was forced backwards to the floor. She flipped him over on to his stomach and put her knee in the small of his back. She handcuffed him herself. It was the first time she had used handcuffs on an assignment since she began at S.I.S.
She handed Sandberg over to one of the back-up team and continued her passage through the apartment until she opened the last door at the very back. According to the blueprints, this was a small cubbyhole looking out on to the courtyard. She stopped in the doorway and looked at the most emaciated figure she had ever seen. She did not for one second doubt that here was a person who was mortally ill.
"Fredrik Clinton, you are under arrest as an accomplice to murder, attempted murder, and for a long list of further crimes," she said. "Stay where you are in bed. We've called an ambulance to take you to Kungsholmen."
Malm was stationed immediately outside the building on Artillerigatan. Unlike Cortez, he knew how to handle his digital Nikon. He used a short telephoto lens and the pictures he took were of excellent quality.
They showed the members of the Section, one by one, being led out through the front door and down to the police cars. And finally the ambulance that arrived to pick up Clinton. His eyes were fixed on the lens as the shutter clicked. Clinton looked nervous and confused.
The photograph later won the Picture of the Year award.
CHAPTER 27
FRIDAY, 15.VII
Judge Iversen banged his gavel at 12.30 and decreed that district court proceedings were thereby resumed. He noticed that a third person had appeared at Advokat Giannini's table. It was Holger Palmgren in a wheelchair.
"Hello, Holger," Judge Iversen said. "I haven't seen you in a courtroom in quite a while."