“In the car ride, my acquaintance—who you don’t recognize, even though you’ve met him before, several times over various investigations—and I will explain to you what’s going on. And when we get to the station, my acquaintance, now your acquaintance, will take off and you and I’ll head into the police station. And if Wilson, who still can’t know who our acquaintance is, continues to say no, then maybe I’ll have to ask him the same question I just asked you: Is there another reason that he can’t or won’t talk about?”

Chapter 39

The stairs at the police station separated them. Piet Hoffmann disappeared into the subway station, while Ewert Grens and Mariana Hermansson opened the front doors with their key cards and proceeded into the corridor. Grens had a hard time deciding what part of their conversation had upset Hermansson the most—her shock when she realized it was Hoffmann sitting in the back seat, the fact that she hadn’t been able to see through it, or that a criminal organization had broken that last taboo and was threatening the lives of children for their own gain. Or maybe simply the feeling of having been deceived by her own boss, and finally—when he no longer had any choice—being pulled into it so reluctantly. Probably all three at the same time. And things didn’t get any better in the elevator ride up when he asked her what she’d found out about Wilson, since she hadn’t reported anything to him despite his request. She stayed silent and tried to hide her anger, then snorted and explained that she still refused to spy on their boss. She had been focusing instead on trying to apprehend a criminal because that’s what was in her job description.

Erik Wilson was waiting behind his desk when they stepped into his well-appointed office, and it didn’t take much power of observation to see that two of his best detectives weren’t very happy with each other right now. So rather than wasting any more energy on meaningless discussions, he asked them to sit down and told them his decision.

“I’m with Mariana. No arrest.”

“Excuse me—did I hear you wrong?”

“You heard correctly, Ewert.”

“I don’t think I did—you need to speak a little more clearly.”

“We have no formal reason to arrest Zaravic. Is that clear enough?”

Grens, who was just about to sit down, changed his mind and wandered over to the other corner of the room, where he leaned against the safe.

“Jesus Christ, Wilson—do we really have to play this game again when we know how it ends?”

He turned to the locked door, tapped it with his index finger. It was almost possible to hear the locking mechanisms tightening a little more.