Jana Berzelius tried to open her eyes in the icy water but saw nothing but darkness. She swept her hands in front of her in hopes of being able to swim, but she felt nothing but the cold. The water wasn’t very deep, but it felt like an eternity as she let her body sink down to the bottom. She dreamed of white daisies dancing in the wind, but came to just as a burning sensation shot through her body. She had bumped against something. She felt around with her hand, but she had no feeling left.

Her lungs were aching. Her head screamed at her to take her last breath, but she sank even farther down in the paralyzingly cold water. She again saw the white daisies dancing before her eyes, quicker this time. They begged her to dance with them. Around, around.

Her head was spinning. She was ready now, to let go and dance around, around.

Another shock. She had bumped against something again.

It was a rusty iron ladder, drilled into a cliff to let swimmers in and out of the water in the summer.

Her clothes heavy, she slowly pulled herself up.

Finally, she broke through the surface of the water, trying to keep herself calm, drawing air into her lungs. With rigid arms, she held tight to the ladder. Small chunks of ice tumbled around her as she began to climb. She coughed, trying to control her breathing, but her body screamed for more oxygen. She breathed in the cold air and felt like it almost cut her throat. She swallowed and inhaled again.

Sharp snowflakes blew in her face. Moaning, she rolled up onto the rocks, stood on shaky legs and began to walk.

* * *

Gunnar Öhrn knocked on the door, which opened immediately. He had a hard time not smiling when the man in front of him stiffened at the sight of him.

“Hi, Anders,” Gunnar said.

“Gunnar?”

“You look surprised.”

“I am surprised to see you here at my door, yes.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No, no. Come in.”

Anders closed the door, and led Gunnar into the hotel suite, into a room with two sofas. There were two wineglasses and a bowl of fruit on the coffee table. The lamps had been dimmed; the light was soft. The bed in the bedroom was neatly made, the striped white-on-white silk comforter was flat and the pillows were perfectly arranged.

“Are you expecting someone?” Gunnar asked, nodding toward the table where the two wineglasses stood.

“What do you want?” Anders asked, sitting down.

Gunnar sat across from him, leaned back and looked out the window, letting his gaze sweep over the frosty rooftops.

“We’ve solved the case with the Thai girls,” he said. “The whole narcotics mess, actually.”

“Oh, really,” Anders said.