Between them they had made a bomb using the ignition from a gas refrigerator. That was the closest they had been able to get to a remote control, but Anton was sure that the problem would be solved if they could figure out how to connect this to a clock. First they would have to test this version of the detonator to be sure that it would light the fuse.

‘What about Molotov cocktails?’ Gunnar asked, holding the petrol can that Anton had finally agreed to buy, hoping to satisfy Gunnar, who seemed to think that petrol was the solution they were looking for.

‘I reckon we shouldn’t make those until later; on the spot,’ Anton said. ‘We can take the can and the bottles with us, and make them up just before we set the explosion off.’

‘Isn’t it better to have them ready?’ Gunnar said, already tearing an old T-shirt into strips to stuff into the necks of the bottles.

‘I don’t want to be messing around with petrol in here,’ Anton said. ‘My dad’s upstairs.’

Gunnar gave in.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘But if we have everything ready for the cocktails then we can go straight after school tomorrow.’

Anton nodded. He had to admit to himself that he was looking forward to trying out the explosives, even though he wasn’t nearly as excited as Gunnar was. He switched off his head torch and turned up the radio. An MP he hadn’t heard of before was being interviewed on Radio Edda.

‘The problem is that radical Islam has knocked on our door. It’s already here in our countries, and it has little if anything to do with any kind of faith,’ the politician said. ‘Islam isn’t just a religion, it’s an all-encompassing philosophy of human relations that takes in everything – law, social affairs and not least how people relate to each other.’

‘We need to remind ourselves why we’re doing this,’ Anton said, and Gunnar nodded so energetically that the light on his head danced in the gloom.

24

‘But where’s your income?’ Agla asked in bewilderment as she peered at the computer screen. She had decided not to let Elísa find any chinks in her armour. Instead she would act as if nothing had happened, so she had appeared in the common room before dinner and suggested they get her tax return out of the way. She had already arranged it with the prison officer on duty, who took them to the library and switched on the wifi with the strict instruction that they were only to work on Elísa’s tax return, and Agla wasn’t to let her anywhere near anything else on the internet.

‘There,’ Elísa said, pointing at the income column.

‘Do you have any unearned income?’

‘Like what?’

‘From associations or limited companies?’

‘What?’

‘Profits, then? Where did you get money from?’

‘Just from the fish plant I worked in for a few months last year. And from the Boss, you know. Not that I’m going to declare that to the taxman!’