The Complete Game Trilogy: Game, Buzz, Bubble. Литагент HarperCollins USD

as she was taking a last look round the room to make sure she’d got everything her mobile phone rang. Number withheld, she noted with a frown.

      ‘This is Rebecca,’ she said with one hand on the door-handle.

      ‘Becca?’ the voice at the other end said, and she stopped.

      ‘Becca, it’s me …’

      ‘I can’t talk right now,’ she said unnecessarily abruptly. ‘Can I call you back tomorrow?’ She tried to compensate by sounding more friendly.

      ‘Er, sure, I just wanted to check that you’re … okay?’

      ‘What d’you mean?’ she replied, and somewhere inside her his tone of voice was setting off alarm bells.

      ‘Er …’ A few moments of silence followed, but she chose not to fill them. ‘… don’t really know how to say this.’

      ‘But?’ she cut him off, as her suspicions grew stronger and stronger.

      ‘That business … out at Lindhagensplan … Well … that wasn’t supposed to happen, or, well … it was, but … I didn’t know it was you, Becca!’

      The words came in bursts and his voice rose to a falsetto towards the end. Suddenly she felt utterly exhausted, as if her legs could no longer hold her. Slowly she went back inside the examination room and sank down on the trolley she had only just got up from.

      ‘Okay, let’s take this from the start, please,’ she said, as calmly as she could while she tried to take in what he’d just said.

      ‘It wasn’t really serious, sort of a game, I suppose. A game that went a bit wrong.’

      ‘A game, you say.’

      Her voice sounded tired but in spite of that he couldn’t mistake how angry she was.

      ‘Yeah …’ he replied, aware of how lame it sounded.

      ‘So you were playing a game, and that’s why my partner’s in intensive care, is that a reasonable summary of the situation?’

      She sounded more angry now, as if she’d already got over the initial shock.

      ‘Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen, like I said. Someone getting hurt, I mean … It’s sort of like an elaborate joke, I suppose.’

      His voice was pleading, almost whiney.

      ‘A joke? Are you taking the piss? Are you completely stupid? For God’s sake, you’re over thirty and you still don’t give a fuck, you’re playing your way through life and you let everyone else pay for it! Only this time it all went to hell, or have I got that wrong?’

      He didn’t answer. On the rare occasions when she swore he’d learned it was best to keep quiet.

      ‘Where are you now?’

      The question was unnecessary, really. She already knew the answer. Why else would he have called her?

      All that flannel about whether she was okay was just one of his usual smoke-screens. The cavalry to the rescue, even though what she most felt like doing was ripping his stupid immature fucking head off.

      ‘Kronoberg,’ he muttered.

      She rested her head on her free hand.

      ‘Okay,’ she sighed after composing herself for a few seconds. ‘This is what we’re going to do …’

      Bolin came back after ten minutes exactly.

      ‘Well, is a lawyer coming?’

      HP shook his head.

      ‘I thought about it, but I don’t need one,’ he muttered, looking down at the table.

      ‘Splendid,’ Bolin nodded, and switched on the tape-recorder.

      ‘Interview recommenced at 23:43 after Pettersson declined the offer of a lawyer. Is that correct, Pettersson?’

      HP muttered in agreement but Bolin forced him to repeat himself.

      ‘Yes, that’s correct.’

      ‘Okay, Pettersson, how about taking it right from the start?’

      HP took a deep breath and glanced at the mobile phone.

      ‘Tell them everything,’ she had said, and she was usually right.

      To hell with rule number one, in other words. Blood was thicker than water, after all.

      ‘It all started when I found a mobile phone on the train …’

      ‘Duty custody desk.’

      ‘Hello, this is Police Inspector Rebecca Normén. My partner Kruse and I were the ones who went off the Drottningholm road earlier this evening,’ she said, as calmly as she could.

      ‘Inspector Normén, good to hear your voice. We’ve been pretty worried about you, I can tell you. Are you okay?’

      Rebecca smiled. She hadn’t recognized the voice at the other end of the line, but now there was no doubt. Her old boss was on duty in Kronoberg tonight, which was one bit of positive news.

      ‘Hi, Mulle. Thanks, I’m okay, a few bruises and one hell of a headache, but that’s about it. I’m afraid Kruse wasn’t so lucky.’

      ‘Yes, so I heard, we had three cars there when the fire-brigade were cutting you free, and the lads said Kruse didn’t look too good,’ he replied in a more serious tone of voice. ‘We’ll be keeping everything crossed for him. Did you want anything in particular, or were you just calling to reassure your old boss?’

      ‘Well, there’s something I could do with some help with, Mulle, and it’s all a bit sensitive.’

      ‘Okay, let’s hear it!’ he replied encouragingly, and she took a deep breath before she went on.

      ‘The bloke you’ve arrested, Henrik Pettersson … He’s my little brother.’

      He’d done exactly as she said. Told Bolin everything. Or almost everything …

      For obvious reasons he’d decided to leave out the business with the M84 fireworks down in Kungsträdgården, but apart from that he’d explained everything, even about the door in Birkagatan.

      It had felt pretty good, it was quite a story.

      Bolin had mostly just nodded, occasionally interrupting to ask a question, but mainly he had kept quiet.

      When they were finished it was past one o’clock in the morning.

      Bolin read the time to the tape-recorder, then switched it off.

      ‘That’s some story, Pettersson,’ he said as he stood up. ‘We’ll have to double-check a few things, then we’ll need to talk again tomorrow. Someone will be with you shortly to take you to a cell.’

      HP merely nodded in reply. He could handle a night in the cells, no problem.

      Been there, done that …

      But now fifteen minutes had passed since Bolin had left, and he was starting to get impatient.

      Where the hell was the custody officer?

      He was tired, his head and nose ached, and his mouth was completely dry.

      Two more minutes, he thought, then he’d stick his head out into the corridor and make some noise.

      He realized almost incidentally that his mobile was still sitting on the table among his other belongings.

      The little LED light was flashing red.

      ‘Okay, you’ve lost me now, Normén. Did you say we’ve arrested your little brother?’

      ‘I’m afraid so, Mulle. Henrik’s a decent lad but he’s incredibly immature, and he’s something of a magnet for trouble, if you get what I mean?’

      He