Abrupt. Almost whispering. Then he hung up. They called again. And again. Only when he was back up on the highway did he stop, pull over to the side of the road, and get out of the car, where his new voice would be watered down by the ambient sounds.

“What’s going on?”

“My phone. I didn’t have good reception—now it’s working better. But I need time. I can’t just go take out anyone. I have to choose the appropriate organization for the job. In the most vulnerable situation. With the most enemies. Most . . .”

“How long?”

“Forty-eight hours.”

“Twenty-four.”

“I need . . .”

“Twenty-four hours is what you get. It’s not negotiable. Act—and you’ll get your papers and your family back. Don’t act—and we send the documents to every organization you ever snitched on, and we start shooting—youngest first. Luiza, that’s her name, right?”

Piet Hoffmann lingered for a while in the darkness next to the highway, watching cars rush by. Everyone was on their way somewhere. Just like him—on his way to where the ones who threatened him didn’t want to see him. And they wouldn’t.

What do you do when a distorted voice thinks they know what you look like?

You mask yourself.

What do you do if that voice thinks you’re working for him?

You go your own way.

And—what do you do when that motherfucking voice is convinced that he’s kept you at a distance?

You get close. You go all the way in.

•   •   •

He’d done his final car exchange of the day—jumped into a small Japanese rental car he’d picked up at a gas station in Västertorp, where his own car stood along with the phone back in the passenger seat—and now he was parked on a backstreet not far from the house that meant everything to him. Close enough to be able to see, far enough away not to be seen. Listening to the blackbird’s melodic song. Wondering if it was the same bird as before. He decided it was, it must live in their tree.

His whole body ached.

He wanted to be with them, checking Hugo’s and Rasmus’s homework, bathing Luiza in her little tub, holding Zofia in his arms.

Later.

When this was over.

A neighbor passed by with her dog on a leash, a shiny red Irish setter bouncing along happily, and they nodded to each other. She showed no signs of knowing the person she was greeting. A little later a couple with a daughter in Hugo’s class parked next to him on this dead-end street, glanced through his windshield as they passed by, but they too didn’t seem to recognize him.