They were in front of a cracked-up mountain wall. Grooves, irregularities, sharp edges. And, as he got close, he saw the outlines of a door. Impossible to make out if you weren’t looking for it.

Run your hand along the ground until you find two orange-size bulges.

Turn them clockwise.

What looked like two natural formations were not that at all.

When Piet Hoffmann grabbed hold of them, twisting them at the same time, it was as if the whole rock wall started to shake. Then out of the cracks and uneven surfaces a door slid to the side.

“Go in, Latifi.”

“No.”

“Inside you’ll find my second repayment. I think you’ll be satisfied.”

“I still don’t understand this. And I don’t take part in things I don’t understand.”

They stared at each other, as quiet as their surroundings. Not even the constantly screaming birds seemed to want to disturb them right now.

“You go first, Larsson. Or whatever your name is.”

Their eyes met and Latifi pointed to the doorway. Piet Hoffmann slowly started to walk into the darkness.

Steps echoed in the stone room.

He lit the flashlight he was carrying, and Latifi stopped abruptly.

“Is that . . . what the hell, Larsson . . . is that what I think it is?”

“Yes.”

Side by side they tried to take in this uncanny vision.

“Of course, I’ve—my god!—heard of them, everyone who lives around here has, but I’ve always considered it a tall tale. That they . . . they’re real! . . . I never even considered it.”

They stood in front of pallet after pallet after pallet of weapons that didn’t exist.

And they didn’t even have to count them.

Ten thousand copies of the world’s most powerful machine gun—the key to taking over foreign markets. The weapons cache that led to the death of a family, and then many years later to even more deaths.

Chapter 55

Ewert Grens had left the balcony and the view of the city he’d spent his whole life in.

He’d never ventured elsewhere. Never longed to. This was his place, his life, and he’d made peace with that. It was good enough.

His car was still parked outside his apartment building on Svea Road. He nodded to a colleague in uniform as he headed out, and then sank down in the front seat. He’d visited most addresses in this town by now, but Gärdet, where he was headed now, was still a surprisingly rare destination. There just weren’t many criminals living in that part. Life could be unfair like that.

He started driving while making a new call. A new person pulled out of comfortable sleep. Life could also be unfair in that way.

“Nils? It’s Grens.”