Ola Söderström printed out the compilation he’d made of the properties he’d found along the coast near Kälebo. He had gone into great detail, checked both older and newer maps and in the end compiled addresses, property details and all the other information he could find. Twelve pages. He heard the printer rattle as it started up in the next room.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, then got up to get the printouts. When he was just a few steps away, he saw Anders Wester standing at the printer, flipping through the pages.

Ola felt a jolt of excitement and anxiety run through his body. Chatting with the highest brass wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Shit, he really had to think quickly now. Had to seem smart, not make a fool of himself or say something stupid.

“Hi,” he said, as casually as possible.

Anders turned around and gave Ola a neutral look he couldn’t interpret. Just a look.

“What’s this for?” he said, adjusting the collar of his white shirt.

“What do you mean?” Ola asked.

“The addresses.”

“They’re for the meeting. I’ve listed all of the addresses in Kälebo. Henrik thinks we’ve been searching in the wrong area, and after the meeting, I’ll give these to the patrols, who will check each one of them. We think that the room might be there... I mean, the room where the Thai girl was held captive,” he said, cursing himself for rambling on.

“Why haven’t I been told about this?”

“I thought...” Ola said, trailing off.

It became silent, the type of sudden silence that happened when people completely dropped the thread of a conversation.

“I thought you knew,” Ola said, scratching his light blue knit cap. “That you’d talked with Gunnar. Or Henrik.”

“I haven’t.”

“Are you sure?”

No, this can’t be happening, Ola thought. Of course Anders was sure. How dare he question the head of National Crime?

“Well, now I know, then,” Anders said, giving the stack of papers to Ola. “Thank you for the information.”

Ola took the papers. What should he say? Thank you? You’re welcome?

“We’ll begin the meeting now, then,” Anders said.

“Now?”

“Right now. Gather everyone.”

“But...”

“Do you have an objection?”

“No, I...” Ola couldn’t get any more out.

* * *

Despite wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt, the sweat ran down Gunnar’s back, armpits and forehead. The pressure in his chest made him falter and reach for the support of the railing.

Gunnar Öhrn closed his eyes for a moment, waiting, feeling the pain fade away before he opened his eyes again. Slowly, he ascended the stairs to the police station. He had walked from the room where the press conference had just finished and had taken the long way back to divert his thoughts.