“You—whoever the hell you are—that doesn’t tell me anything other than that some fool I don’t know broke into my apartment, into my home, and sat himself down at the kitchen table where I drink my morning coffee. In my fucking chair!”

The stranger looked down at his hands. Nodding to them again and then to the detective superintendent, as if asking permission once more to move them. Grens didn’t nod, he shook his head.

“Just keep them frozen. If you value your life.”

“Okay. Okay. Let’s talk some more.”

The man’s voice seemed distressed, as if it might not hold—as if it caused him pain to keep talking.

“The second time, Grens, we met for real. Bogotá. Gaira Café. I taught you to drink aguapanela. Sugarcane pulp and hot water. And we were no longer two freight trains headed straight for each other. I needed your help, Grens, we didn’t fight each other—we fought side by side.”

Ewert Grens smiled. A smile that lacked any warmth. He was barely listening. He was too tired for this bullshit.

“I’m calling a patrol car to come pick you up. Until then, you better sit there and wait just like you are now. I’ve got six months until retirement, and I’m in no mood to deal with a corpse on my kitchen floor.”

His right hand still on his gun, pointed straight at the intruder’s head, he used his left hand to reach into his jacket’s inner pocket and pull out his phone.

“Please calm down, Grens, for fuck’s sake.”

“I am calm. As long as you’re calm.”

Then he cocked his gun.

As if to emphasize his point.

“Listen. Listen, Grens! The last time we met it was the other way around! You sought me out, you needed my help—forced me to infiltrate a human smuggling operation in Libya and . . .”

“Hermansson? Ewert here.”

Grens had flipped open his phone and pressed one of its few saved numbers.

“I’m currently standing in my kitchen and with my service weapon aimed at a burglar. I want you to send a car.”

The female voice at the other end was unexpectedly loud. Or maybe it was Grens who had the volume turned up. Or maybe he’d just turned the phone in such a way that the other side of the conversation could seep out.

“Ewert, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. And in order to ensure that this fucking intruder also remains fine, I need you to send a car immediately.”

“To your home address?”

“To my home address.”

Ewert Grens smiled. Still not particularly warmly.

“Ten minutes. Then you’ll be in handcuffs in the back seat of a police car. I’m gonna take pleasure in testifying against you.”