‘This is far above your skill set,’ she continues. ‘Calmly back away and call your boss. If you’re lucky, you might still be able to save your fucking mediocre career.’

Bronzelius looks at her curiously. ‘I’ll be damned,’ he says. ‘They’re just getting younger and younger.’ He turns to the police officer standing next to her. ‘Cuff them all and take them in.’

‘You’re gonna regret this,’ Myriam Awad fumes. ‘Of that I’m one hundred per cent sure.’

‘Without a doubt,’ Bronzelius sighs. ‘Without a doubt.’

One after another, the plainclothes agents are handcuffed and led to a police bus, which quietly drives away.

Klara looks around and sees Jacob standing up, but being held back by two police officers.

‘Where are you taking him?’ Jacob screams, pointing to Yassim. ‘He’s almost unconscious!’

Klara goes over to Jacob and puts a hand on his shoulder, but it’s pushed away by the police.

‘He’s wanted by the police, and he’s being arrested,’ the policeman says. ‘We have orders to take him to the detention centre.’

‘Klara,’ Jacob says desperately. ‘Where are they taking Yassim?’

She assumes Yassim must be the man in the black hood she saw being led into an ambulance.

‘He’ll receive medical attention,’ she says quietly, looking into Jacob’s eyes. ‘I’ll make sure of it, I promise.’

He looks at her with something wild and almost crazed in his eyes. ‘What’s going to happen to him?’

‘I don’t know, Jacob,’ she says. ‘I don’t know.’

The police push him into the back seat of a police car, and Klara turns around and scans the hangar. In all that chaos, she must have missed George. She finds Bronzelius among the uniformed police officers and approaches him.

‘Someone is missing,’ she says.

Bronzelius turns to her with a questioning expression.

‘George Lööw,’ she says.

Bronzelius sends away the transports full of the detained and gives instructions to keep them isolated until further notice. Then he turns to the twenty or so police still there.

‘We’re missing somebody,’ he says calmly. ‘Start looking.’

The police officers spread out across the hangar, starting to search everywhere, inside the airplane, the office, the storage room, the cleaning closet and toilets.

Finally, Klara is the one who finds him. She’s sitting in the back seat of one of the police cars with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. But she can’t sit still, so she gets up and goes out to the hangar floor to help out. When she peeks into the trunk of a parked, black Volvo she sees him.

‘Here!’ she shouts. ‘Here he is!’

Through the window, she can make out George rolled up in the foetal position on his back, the hat he bought at H&M in Malmö still pulled low on his forehead, down over his eyes. ‘George! George!’ she cries, pounding on the window.