Exposed Page 32

  ‘So where did he go?’ she asked, looking over the pages.

  ‘He flew to Tallinn with Estonian Air on the evening of the twenty-seventh and chartered a private plane back that night, landing at the old Barkarby airfield. The private plane was Estonian. Would you like the total converted into Swedish kronor?’

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t think so,’ Annika said.

  She was staring at the photocopies of credit card receipts. They’d been handed in on 30 July. The minister had hired the plane using a government Eurocard. She had been expecting to see the same spidery signature she had seen on the receipt from Studio Six, but this one was rounded and rather childish.

  ‘Thanks ever so much,’ Annika said, and smiled at the woman. ‘You’ve got no idea how much this means.’

  ‘You’re very welcome,’ the woman said.

  61

  Her feet were drumming against the tarmac of the pavement, but somehow didn’t seem to be touching the ground. She was walking on little cushions of air, lifted upwards by bursts of laughter.

  The miserable old skinflint, of course he couldn’t resist putting in his claim for expenses as soon as he could!

  She floated home towards Hantverkargatan. She had been right! The minister had been on a trip, and was absolutely determined not to reveal it, no matter what the consequences were.

  Bastard, Annika thought. He’s done for now.

  The telephone was ringing as she opened the front door and she raced over to catch it.

  ‘Hello, yes, I’m the public relations manager at the Swedish Trade Council,’ said a man with very pronounced vowels. ‘I understand that you’re interested in seeing some of our files.’

  Annika sank onto the sofa, still wearing her coat and carrying her bag.

  ‘I was told that the Council isn’t a publicly funded body, so that wouldn’t be possible,’ Annika said.

  ‘Well, if you put your request in writing, we’ll register it and decide whether or not the documents can be released. Although obviously some of our files are confidential.’

  Well, you’ve changed your tune, Annika thought.

  ‘Thanks so much for calling back,’ Annika said tiredly.

  The woman she had spoken to before had been completely wrong, but she couldn’t be bothered to get annoyed at the complete lack of joined-up thinking.

  A lot of people still didn’t know that the principle of openness was enshrined in the section of the constitution dealing with freedom of the press. Any document held by any state-funded organization had to be disclosed if someone asked for it, as long as it hadn’t been declared confidential.

  If we all kept an eye on what was going on, Annika thought, maybe things would get done properly.

  She stood up and took off her coat and bag, then called the Cherry group of companies to see if she could get any work in one of their casinos.

  ‘We haven’t got any vacancies,’ the head of personnel said. ‘Try again next spring.’

  Reality struck her like a blow to the head. She put the phone down and gulped. So what was she going to do now?

  Restless, she got up to get some water in the kitchen, and looked in on Patricia.

  The young woman was sleeping soundly with her mouth open. Annika stood and watched her for a few minutes.

  Patricia knows a lot more than she’s telling me, she thought. It’s ridiculous that the police don’t know where she’s living.

  She closed the door quietly and went back to the phone. Q was in.

  ‘Of course I remember you,’ he said. ‘You’re the one who was fishing around the Josefin Liljeberg case.’

  ‘Yes, I was working as a journalist then,’ Annika said. ‘I’m not doing that any more.’

  ‘I see,’ the detective said, intrigued. ‘So why are you calling me?’

  ‘I know where Patricia is.’

  ‘Who?’

  She was momentarily speechless.

  ‘Josefin’s flatmate.’

  ‘Oh. So where is she?’

  ‘At mine. We’re sharing the flat.’

  ‘That sounds familiar,’ the detective said. ‘Watch out.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Annika snapped. ‘I’m interested in hearing how the investigation’s going.’

  He laughed. ‘Really?’

  ‘I know the minister was in Tallinn that night,’ she said. ‘Why doesn’t he want anyone to know about that?’

  The detective had stopped laughing.

  ‘Bloody hell, you’re a demon at digging stuff up,’ he said. ‘How did you find that out?’

  ‘I suppose you’ve known all along?’

  ‘Of course. We know lots of things we don’t leak to the press.’

  ‘Do you know what he was doing there?’

  The detective hesitated. ‘No, we don’t,’ he said. ‘That was outside the scope of the investigation.’

  ‘But you must have wondered?’ Annika said.

  ‘No, not really,’ the detective said. ‘Some political meeting, I suppose.’

  ‘On a Friday night?’

  They fell silent.

  ‘I’m not interested in what the minister was doing,’ the detective said. ‘My only concern is finding the culprit.’

  ‘And that isn’t Christer Lundgren?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The case is finished, isn’t it, from your point of view?’ Annika said.

  Q sighed. ‘Thanks for letting me know about Patricia,’ he said. ‘Not that we’ve missed her, but you never know.’

  ‘Can’t you tell me anything about the investigation?’ Annika pleaded.

  ‘You already know everything I could tell you. Well, I’ve got work to do …’

  They hung up. Annika slumped back in the sofa and shut her eyes. She had a lot to think about.

  ‘Have you got a minute?’

  Anders Schyman looked up. Berit Hamrin’s head was poking round the door.

  ‘Of course,’ the head editor said, clicking to save the document on his screen. ‘Come in.’

  Berit closed the door carefully behind her and sat down on the new leather sofa.

  ‘So how’s it going?’ she asked.

  ‘Okay,’ Schyman said. ‘This is one hell of a sluggish ship.’

  Berit smiled. ‘It can’t really handle handbrake turns,’ she said. ‘Just so you know, I think you’re doing the right thing. What you’re trying to achieve in terms of fact checking and greater awareness is vital to our survival.’

  The man sighed. ‘I’m glad someone agrees with me,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.’

  Berit rubbed her hands together.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’ve been thinking about the state of the crime section at the moment. We’ve got a vacancy there, now that Sjölander has gone over to politics. Is he going to be replaced?’

  Schyman turned to the bookcase and pulled out a file. He leafed through it thoughtfully.

  ‘No,’ he said eventually. ‘Management have decided that Sjölander should stay where he is, so crime will have to manage with you and the other two. The editor-in-chief thinks we should lie low on crime for a while. He’s still a bit shaken up by the pasting we took on Studio Six.’

  Berit bit her lip. ‘I think he’s making a mistake,’ she said carefully. ‘I don’t think we get out of this crisis by slowing down. I think we ought to speed up. Fight our corner, and really focus on well-researched articles. And that just isn’t possible with staffing levels the way they are.’

  Anders Schyman nodded. ‘Actually, I agree with you,’ he said. ‘But the way things are at the moment, I can’t get anything like that pushed through. For a start, as you suggest, it would require quite some reorganization, and a new appointment.’

  ‘I’ve got a suggestion,’ Berit said, and the head editor smiled.

  ‘I thought you might have,’ he said.

  Berit became animated.

  ‘Annika Bengtzon is an extremely perceptive young woman. She sees things from a
different angle, she thinks differently. Sometimes she goes over the top, but that can be worked on. I think we ought to try to find her a job.’

  The head editor held his hands out.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but right now she’s finished as a crime journalist. The editor-in-chief has palpitations if he so much as hears her name.

  ‘I argued hard for her when Carl Wennergren was appointed, it almost cost me my job. Jansson agreed with me, but the rest of the management team wanted us to throw her out there and then.’

  ‘Which you did,’ Berit said pointedly.

  Schyman shrugged. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But it didn’t kill her. I spoke to her before she left, she was angry, but sounded fairly together.’

  Berit stood up.

  ‘I met Annika yesterday evening,’ she said. ‘She’s on to something. She’s digging about in something connected to the IB affair, but I couldn’t work out exactly what.’

  ‘She’s welcome to offer us material as a freelancer,’ Anders Schyman said.

  Berit smiled. ‘I’ll tell her that if I see her.’

  Patricia knocked on the door to Annika’s room.

  ‘Sorry,’ Patricia said, ‘but we haven’t got any food in, and it’s your turn to do the shopping.’

  Annika put her book down and looked up.

  ‘Um …’ she said. ‘I haven’t got any money.’

  Patricia folded her arms.

  ‘Well, you’d better get a job, then,’ she said.

  Annika stood up and they went into the kitchen. The fridge was empty, apart from a tin of sardines.

  ‘Fuck,’ Annika said. ‘I called Cherry, but they haven’t got any jobs until next spring.’

  ‘Have you tried looking in the paper?’ Patricia said.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Maybe you could get something as a journalist.’

  ‘I’m not a journalist any more,’ Annika said curtly, pouring herself a glass of water and sitting down at the table.

  ‘Okay, so take a job at the club then,’ Patricia said, sitting down opposite her. ‘We need a croupier.’

  ‘Come on, I can’t take a job in a sex club,’ Annika said, taking a sip of water.

  Patricia raised her eyebrows and looked at Annika with derision.

  ‘So you think you’re better than me and Josefin? Isn’t it good enough for you?’

  Annika could feel herself blushing.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  Patricia leaned forward.

  ‘We’re not whores. We aren’t even naked. I wear a red bikini, it’s really smart. You’ve got big tits; you can wear Josefin’s. It’s blue.’

  Annika felt herself blush even more.

  ‘Are you serious?’ she said.

  Patricia snorted. ‘It’s hardly that big a deal. But I’d have to talk to Joachim, I don’t decide anything. Do you want me to talk to him?’

  Annika hesitated.

  It would give me an opportunity to see where she worked, she thought. And I’d get to know her boyfriend and boss. And I’d have to wear her bra and pants …

  This last thought sent a shiver through her crotch, which made her feel both excited and ashamed.

  She nodded.

  ‘Okay,’ Patricia said. ‘If you’re asleep when I get home I’ll leave you a note.

  And with that she went off to work.

  Annika sat at the kitchen table for a long time after she’d gone.

  Nineteen years, five months and two days

  Insight never comes cheap. Experience is never wasted. When the time comes to pay, the price always seems too high, way too costly. But still we stand there with our credit cards, getting our emotional happiness in debt for years to come.

  And gradually, once we’ve got our account under control and the repayments are behind us, we always think it was worth the trouble. That’s my consolation today, because today I made up my mind. I know what I have to do. I’ve pulled out my credit card and cashed in my soul.

  It almost happened yesterday. I can hardly remember the reason; there was something he couldn’t find, something he said I must have thrown away. Naturally, it wasn’t true, and of course he knew that too.

  I know what I have to do. My back’s up against the wall.

  I have to confront him, and I know it’s going to cost me.

  Because he says

  he will never

  let me go.

  Thursday 6 September

  62

  The folded note was on the table, and contained just two letters: OK.

  Annika shuddered and gulped, then quickly threw the note away. Sven came into the kitchen, naked, with mussed-up hair. Annika couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘You look like a little boy,’ she said.

  He gave her a kiss.

  ‘Are there any good running tracks round here?’

  ‘Nothing official, but there’s a path that runs all the way round Kungsholmen. That’s not bad for running.’

  ‘Last one back’s a sissy,’ Sven said, rushing into the hall to find his running gear.

  They ran together the whole way. Sven won, of course, but Annika wasn’t far behind. Then they made love in the shower in the neighbouring house, quietly and intently so as not to let everyone know what they were doing.

  Back in the flat again Annika made coffee.

  ‘Training starts again next week,’ Sven said.

  Annika poured two mugs for them and sat down opposite him.

  ‘I’m going to stay up here a bit longer,’ she said.

  Sven shuffled on his chair.

  ‘There’s something I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it a bit daft that we each have flats in Hälleforsnäs? We could rent a four-room apartment together, or even buy a house.’

  Annika got up and opened the fridge. It was just as empty as it had been the previous evening.

  ‘Would you mind getting some shopping?’ she said. ‘There’s a supermarket down in the square.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Sven said.

  She sat down with a sigh. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think you heard what I said. I’m thinking of staying up here.’

  The man stared into his coffee.

  ‘For how long?’

  Annika took several deep breaths.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘A few weeks, at least.’

  ‘What about your job?’

  ‘I’m on leave.’

  Sven leaned over the table and put his hand over hers.

  ‘I miss you,’ he said.

  She gave his fingers a quick squeeze, then got up and gathered together the empty cans from the draining board: she could get the deposit money back on them.

  ‘If you’re not going to go shopping, I’ll go,’ she said.

  He stood up.

  ‘You’re not listening to me, damn it,’ he said. ‘I want us to move in together. I want us to get married. I want us to have kids.’

  Annika’s arms dropped and she stared down at the collection of cans.

  ‘Sven,’ she said, ‘I’m not ready for that.’

  He held out his arms.

  ‘What are you waiting for? I’ve told you, it’s what I want.’

  She looked up at him, struggling to keep calm.

  ‘I’m just saying that I want to finish a project up here first. I’m busy with something, and it could take a while.’

  He took a step towards her.

  ‘And I’m saying that I want you to come home. Now. Today.’

  She put the last Coke can in the bag, the drops in the bottom dripping onto the floor.

  ‘Okay, now you’re the one who’s not listening,’ she said, and walked out of the kitchen. She pulled her coat on and went down to the supermarket on Kungsholmstorg. She didn’t actually like going to that one, it was cluttered and messy and pretentious. They had umpteen different varieties of garlic but no bath plugs. The staff looked on in disapproval as she walked in with her bags of
empty cans and plastic bottles. She ignored them: the money she got back on them would pay for a sliced loaf and a box of eggs.

  The flat was silent and empty when she got back.

  She found a bottle of cooking oil and a tin of mushrooms in the cupboard and fried them up together with three eggs to make a decent-sized omelette. She stared at the house opposite as she ate it, then went and lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

  63

  Patricia opened the door of Studio Six with both a key and a code.

  ‘You’ll be given your own,’ she said over her shoulder.

  Annika gulped, her heart pounding. She was regretting her decision with every fibre of her being.

  The darkness inside the door had a red tint to it, and there was a spiral staircase leading down towards the light.

  ‘Take care,’ Patricia said. ‘We’ve had guests who’ve almost killed themselves on these stairs.’

  Annika kept a nervous grip on the handrail and she slowly stepped down into the underworld.

  The porn swamp, she thought. This is what it looks like. Shame and expectation; curiosity and disgust.

  Immediately in front of her in the hallway was the roulette table, and she felt an odd rush of calm and self-confidence. There were several black leather armchairs, a round table, and a small counter with a phone and a till.

  ‘So, this is the entrance,’ Patricia said. ‘Sanna looks after things out here.’

  Annika looked round the walls, white plaster, a bit grimy. The floor was wooden, covered with cheap imitation oriental rugs from IKEA. A dull red lamp hung from the ceiling, its light hardly penetrating the lampshade.

  Behind the counter were two discreet doors.

  ‘That’s the changing room and the office,’ Patricia said, gesturing towards the doors. ‘We’ll start by getting changed. I’ve washed Josie’s bikini for you.’

  Annika took a deep breath and suppressed a feeling of morbid excitement. Patricia went in and turned on the light, and cold, blue-white light filled the room.

  ‘This is my locker,’ Patricia said. ‘You can have number fourteen.’

  Annika pushed her bag into the locker.

  ‘There’s no lock,’ she said, and thanked God she had emptied her bag of anything that might give her away.

  ‘Joachim says we don’t need any locks,’ Patricia said. ‘Here you are; I think it’ll fit.’

  She was holding out a bra covered in sky-blue sequins, and an extremely narrow thong. Annika took them, somehow imagining that the material was burning hot. She turned away and undressed.