Slowly he stands up and walks past the stairs by West Hall and the pillars, up towards the main gate. He remembers every syllable Yassim says in that short conversation.

‘I missed you. Can we meet in an hour? You remember where I live?’

Does he remember? He remembers everything, every nuance, every insignificant detail.

Yassim hangs up before Jacob even has time to respond. The wind is rising again, and he lets it carry him across the campus, take him all the way to the traffic on Bliss Street.

He’s halfway down the slope to the sea when he remembers Myriam Awad, and doubt overtakes him. But everything is so insignificant now that he’s heard Yassim’s voice. So weightless. So small in comparison.

He hurries. Whoever Yassim might be, whatever happens to Jacob, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that he’s about to see Yassim again.

22 November

Stockholm

It only takes a few more minutes for the traffic to get going again. The black van and a couple of uniformed police officers standing outside the entrance of Lindblad & Wiman are the only ones still there by the time Klara drives by. It has started snowing, first just a few lonely snowflakes, but it picks up quickly and soon a thin layer is covering the ground.

She squeezes the steering wheel with both hands and turns and looks up at Gabriella’s office. If only she could see what was going on inside.

What should she do now? She has to gather her thoughts and she lets the car roll on for a while, until she finds herself passing Gamla Stan again, taking the same street she did before.

It’s incomprehensible. Gabriella, arrested on the street. Handcuffed, forced into a SWAT van.

Klara turns off at Munkbroleden and pulls into a disabled parking spot outside the Trattoria Romana restaurant. She leans forward, rests her forehead against the cool plastic of the steering wheel. The Volvo out on Sankt Anna. The same Volvo at the gas station on their way here. Gabriella being arrested.

She takes a deep breath, leans back in the seat and closes her eyes for a second before opening the car door and jumping out into the chilly air. Throws a glance at the disabled icon. Fuck it.

She starts to jog at an easy pace back down towards Skeppsbron. The cold, fresh air clears her head. The only logical place to start is by asking the police officers outside the law firm what the hell is going on. And where they took Gabriella. She’ll see about the rest. One thing at a time. Rock and salt.

*