And then this Gabriella Seichelmann ferreted it out and told everyone. In article after article, news show after news show, she talked about how Säpo threatened her and her clients to keep them silent. It ended with the Justice Minister promising an investigation, despite the fact that Säpo denied everything or refused to comment.

She’d become a kind of celebrity, a symbol for those who dare to stand up to the powerful. A truth-teller in the most literal sense of the word. And she was a lawyer.

Jacob looks up the law firm where she works: Lindblad & Wiman. A few clicks later and he has her profile in front of him: a tasteful, serious black-and-white picture. And the number to her cell phone.

He takes a deep breath. She took on the whole establishment this summer. She seems dedicated and convincing and knows what she’s doing. Maybe she has some idea or thoughts about what a person in his position should do? It’ll be expensive of course, but he has no other choice now.

‘Did you find what you’re looking for?’ Alexa has entered the messy office, stands at the doorway behind him. He spins around in his chair, away from her cluttered desk, and looks at her where she stands, still with a cup of tea in her hand.

‘Well, it’s no wasta,’ he says. ‘But it might be something. Can I borrow your phone?’

*

Gabriella answers at the first ring, as if she’d been waiting with phone in hand.

‘This is Seichelmann,’ she says briefly.

Jacob sighs deeply; he didn’t think she’d just answer the phone.

‘The lawyer Gabriella Seichelmann?’ he asks after a short pause.

‘The same,’ she says briefly and formally. ‘To whom am I speaking?’

‘I can’t talk long,’ Jacob begins, nervous to actually have her on the line, nervous how much it’s costing Alexa.

‘Then I suggest you tell me what you want,’ she says drily.

The phone connection crackles from atmosphere and distance. ‘I’ve come across some information. That is, I’m in Beirut. And someone’s given me some information that they want me to bring to Europe.’

He stops. It sounds so fucking crazy.

‘What’s your name?’ she asks. She sounds distracted, as if she’s not listening properly or as if she doesn’t take him seriously.

‘I’m not crazy,’ he says. ‘I can’t say what my name is. Call me Karl, okay?’

‘Okay, Karl. Tell me, then. What is this information and what can I do for you?’