‘You or one of your friends have the card,’ the man in the coat says. ‘It’s in everyone’s best interest to make sure we get it.’

Klara shakes her head. How long will she be able to handle this?

‘I know what’s going to happen,’ she says. ‘I’ve seen the information. I know there are supposed to be coordinated terrorist attacks tomorrow. As long as we have the information, they can’t carry them out.’

If he’s surprised Klara knows what’s on the chip, his face doesn’t show it. ‘Are you really so naive?’ the man says. ‘What you have is the information for one of the cells we managed to infiltrate. We have reason to believe there are several. And that all the cells got the same information. Terrorists don’t let a plan this carefully arranged rest on just one person’s shoulders. Surely you understand that?’

‘Did you know about Paris, too?’ she says without looking away.

He stares at her with those colourless eyes. ‘You don’t understand what this is about,’ he continues. ‘You don’t know what’s at stake. We have spent years analyzing ISIS, their leadership, how they communicate. Do you think we’d let the biggest terrorist attack since September 11 be ruined by a couple of self-righteous Swedish women? Do you seriously think you can stop the wave of history?’

But Klara can see he’s self-conscious after her mention of Paris, and no longer calm. He considers her beneath his dignity. This whole fiasco, a bunch of gays and women, all beneath his dignity. He nods to the man in Gore-Tex, who takes a step towards Klara and raises the gun.

‘You and your friends are completely alone,’ the man says. ‘The Swedish police think you’re working with a terrorist, which you are. You have nowhere else to go. Not you, not Gabriella, and not your friends. All you have is me.’

‘And what can you do?’ Klara whispers.

She’s backed all the way up to the fence now. There’s no way out.

‘You can cooperate, and I’ll explain to my friends in the Swedish intelligence service that there’s been a big mistake,’ he says. ‘Or I could kill you here. And then hunt down your friends one by one. Your choice.’

The man in Gore-Tex takes one more step forward, pushes the cold gun against her head. The world freezes around her. How could she have been so stupid? How could it all go so wrong?

‘No,’ she whispers. ‘Please.’

Then a shot rings out, and the world flashes to white.

25 November

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