She went into the kitchen and began opening the drawers, going through every saucer, bowl and plate. She opened the refrigerator and removed the food, looking in every jar, bottle and package. She cut open the freezer bags of stir-fry vegetables and the special Swedish sausage and potato hash called pytt-i-panna. Then she walked into the large, open living room decorated in gray and white tones. A sectional with a chaise lounge, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, a lamp arcing over a rectangular table with a white top and silver legs. Multiple side tables with drawers.

She pulled out each of the empty drawers and shone a flashlight from beneath each to look for any hidden doors or crannies.

She pulled up the plants and examined the pots, but found only dirt.

Then she stood in the middle of the room, processing everything.

She examined the walls and the light in the ceiling. She bent down and looked across the floor, but found nothing out of the ordinary—just an empty, worn duffel bag in one of the corners.

She instead turned her gaze to the large bookshelf, pulled a chair up to it and began to search for anything that might be hidden behind the books. She went through it shelf by shelf, stacking the books on the floor after paging through some of them. After thirty minutes, she put the last book back on the shelf and noticed that all of them were about sports.

She sighed, looking around the room again.

As she got down from the chair, she landed wrong and her ankle buckled. She screamed and sank to the floor. Sitting there on the floor, massaging her hurt ankle, she looked into a small room resembling an office. On the floor stood an extra-large external hard drive. She wouldn’t have thought much of it if it hadn’t been for the back panel sticking out slightly. It was as if someone had unscrewed it but couldn’t quite get it in the right place again.

There were endless reasons to use an external hard drive, like as a backup copy of an internal one or to store important information that could be jeopardized through online activities, or for downloading sensitive information, or large files such as music, photos or films. Her gut told her that Axel Lundin had a completely different use for his external hard drive.

She fetched her tools and unscrewed the back panel. But there was no sign of the bags of drugs she had expected to see. The hard drive was just a single empty shell.

And was a perfect hiding place for Axel Lundin’s money.

* * *

It took twenty minutes to find Jenny Bengtsson’s apartment on Odalgatan.

The door opened just seconds after Mia Bolander had rung the bell.

“Yeah, whaddya want?”