But Myriam just shakes her head. ‘Jacob,’ she begins. ‘I don’t think you understand how deeply mixed up in this you are now. Why didn’t you just listen to me in Beirut?’ She points over her shoulder, to the wall and whatever’s behind it. ‘In twenty minutes, I’m putting Yassim on a plane to Egypt,’ she says quietly. ‘He’ll be handed over to their intelligence service, and he’ll have to answer their questions. We know he has knowledge of a very large terrorist attack taking place in Europe in the very near future. It’s up to you if you and your friend George end up on that plane or not. The Egyptians are adept at making people talk. Unfortunately, they’re not as good at keeping people alive.’

‘Are you threatening me?’ Jacob whispers.

‘Am I threatening you?’ she says. ‘Yes, Jacob. Yes I am.’

25 November

Bromma Airport

They’re on the highway headed towards Stockholm when Bronzelius’s phone rings. His answers are short, and he asks no questions: ‘I understand… Yes… That’s understood.’

After he hangs up he turns to Klara and meets her eyes.

‘That was my boss,’ he says. ‘MUST, military intelligence, wants you in Bromma. My guess is that your friends are already there.’

‘But you’re not going to do what he says,’ Klara says. ‘Why not?’

‘Maybe I’m tired of being a good cop?’ he says. ‘Maybe I’m tired of sneaking around and letting the wrong people end up hurt.’

‘Like last summer,’ Klara says.

‘Do you know who you were talking to on the soccer field?’ he asks.

Klara shakes her head. ‘A Russian?’ she says. ‘We’ve had them after us this whole time. I suspect they’re behind the evidence against Gabriella.’

‘Gregorij Korolov is his name,’ Bronzelius says. ‘He arrived in Sweden this afternoon. I know because he’s a major player. The kind Säpo keeps an eye on whenever he’s around. But he’s a professional so he managed to evade our surveillance team almost immediately. And because he has a diplomatic passport, there’s nothing we can do other than throw him out. But I would love to know what this is about, why you were standing on a soccer field in Bergort with a well-known Russian spy. Why did military intelligence take an embassy intern to Bromma Airport? Why do they want you there?’

Klara can’t make head or tail of him or his motives. This summer he threatened her and allowed ruthless Russian interests to foment riots in the suburbs of Stockholm just to gain some advantage in an endless spy war. Now he says he’s willing to help her.

‘I don’t trust you,’ she says. ‘It must have felt good to arrest Gabi.’