MemoRandom. Литагент HarperCollins USD

instead of spreading them thinly. It was a matter of getting in sync with reality and delivering concrete results that the general public could understand and accept.

      The first move was already made. He had brought in his old colleague Oscar Wallin. He had recruited him and a few hand-picked officers from National Crime to conduct a ‘special investigation for the Ministry of Justice.’ Wallin and Stenberg had worked together in the Hague and were comfortable with each other. They shared the same goals.

      In actual fact, Wallin’s task was simple: Identify the best working practices in the country and bring in the most competent officers. Find out what works in a new, modernized organization, and which people are happy to go along with it. And which ones aren’t.

      He would make enemies, he was perfectly aware of that. The judicial system was full of desk jockeys and filing clerks. Police officers, prosecutors, and judges with smart titles, expense accounts, and large mortgages, but whose contribution to the system was questionable, to say the least. Plenty of them would see an abrupt end to their career paths and would find themselves out in the cold.

      Attitude, he thought once more. It was all about attitude. Seeing the whole picture beyond the details, and not hesitating to make unpleasant decisions.

      The phone on his desk rang. Calls usually went via his secretary, but this was his direct line. It must be Karolina.

      ‘Stenberg.’

      ‘Good afternoon, Mr Stenberg,’ the dry voice said.

      Stenberg stood up sharply, glancing quickly at the door.

      ‘Y-you mustn’t call me here. All calls are logged.’

      ‘Don’t worry, this call can’t be traced, I can assure you of that,’ the man on the other end of the line said.

      Stenberg gulped and tried to gather his thoughts. ‘What do you want?’

      ‘To start with, I’d like to congratulate you on your new job, Minister of Justice. According to the media, your future prospects look very bright.’

      Stenberg didn’t respond.

      ‘I thought it might be time to discuss recompense for our services. I presume everything was to your satisfaction, Minister? The case has been closed, after all. A lonely, unhappy woman who chose to end her own life.’

      Stenberg took a deep breath. He had been worrying about this call since the week after Sophie’s death, but when a month passed without a word he had almost convinced himself that it wasn’t going to come. Stupid, of course. The man on the other end made his living from providing services of this nature, after all. Stenberg sharpened his voice, trying to sound calm.

      ‘How much?’ he said.

      ‘Oh, we’re not after money, Minister.’

      Stenberg waited, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Sophie’s shattered face was back in his mind, and he quickly opened his eyes again. He had to get this out of the way, as soon as possible. Otherwise he would never be able to move on.

      ‘So what do you want?’ he said.

      ‘Oh, nothing much. Just something that the country’s Minister of Justice, the head of the entire Swedish police system, would surely find simple to achieve.’

      ‘And what might that be?’ Stenberg found he was holding his breath.

      ‘A name,’ the man on the other end of the line said. His voice sounded almost amused. ‘The name of the person concealed behind the code name Janus.’

       9

      Atif had said his good-byes. He had dutifully kissed Cassandra on the cheek before handing her the envelope full of dollar bills. The cost of his mother’s nursing home ate up most of his salary, so it wasn’t much. And from the look on Cassandra’s face he could tell that she certainly didn’t think it was enough, regardless.

      He had hugged Tindra for so long that her little knuckles had left marks around his neck. He realized that he didn’t actually want to let go.

      ‘Why do you have to go, Amu?’

      He had struggled to find a good answer and failed. Cassandra had come to his rescue.

      ‘Your uncle has to go, darling. He has to go home and look after Grandma. But you can e-mail him if you like. And you can send him one of the lovely drawings you do on your iPad.’

      The thought of the drawings seemed to help, because Tindra had let go of his neck. Then she stood in the window and waved until he was out of sight.

      He realized he was going to miss her. The intense look in her eyes, the way she put her little hand in his. The way she tilted her head when she disagreed with something. Just like her dad had done at her age. Maybe he should have offered to stay for longer. To spend more time with Tindra. But what sort of example could he be to her? He was pretty sure Cassandra could help him provide an answer to that question. The same example he had been to Tindra’s father. An example that vanished when he was needed most.

      The gym looked pretty smart. It was on the edge of an industrial estate just ten minutes from the suburban station. Judging by the thirty or so cars in the parking lot, it also seemed to have plenty of members. Mostly 4×4s, Honda CR-Vs, various models of Volvo XC, and a few other fairly pricey cars. Almost all of them were typical mum cars, presumably from the well-to-do residential areas just a kilometre or so away. Much smarter than targeting the young lads in the suburbs who couldn’t afford the membership fees. And much less trouble too, of course. Nice and peaceful, a steady income, that was presumably what Adnan had been thinking.

      Atif didn’t really know why he had decided to come this way. Actually, that wasn’t quite true. Even if it wasn’t particularly far to the cemetery, he had no desire to go back there again, so this would have to do as his final farewell to Adnan. The dream his brother never managed to achieve. In some ways it was a fitting place for a good-bye.

      He steered the rental car into the lot. He tried to look through the big panoramic windows, but the sun filters meant he couldn’t see much. It didn’t really matter. He parked in a vacant space, switched off the engine, and looked at the time. He sat there for a minute or so, forcing himself to think about Adnan.

      He tried to persuade himself that he’d done all he could. Adnan had lived his own life, made his own decisions, and paid the price for them. Besides, they were very different, not just in age but in all manner of other ways. Unlike him, Adnan had been good at school, was liked by everyone, the favorite child. He had had opportunities that Atif had never had. Atif was grieving for his little brother, of course he was. But there were clearly also more emotions than grief alone. Guilt, that one was easy to identify. Anger too. He was also able to put his finger on a vague desire for revenge, even if he was keeping that under control. But there was another feeling there as well, one he was ashamed of, and would prefer not to put a name to, even in his thoughts.

      He started the engine and did a circuit of the building. At the back, next to the Dumpsters, was parked a row of expensive cars. One of them was a familiar Audi with shiny wheel trims. Atif drove around the next corner and found himself close to the exit from the parking lot. He paused for a few seconds and looked at the time. Three hours and thirty-five minutes left until the plane took off. Plenty of time. The question was, what for? Why not just head out to the airport right away? Leave all this behind him, the way he had planned?

      The reception area had a black slate floor and had to be at least five metres high. Rhythmic bass music was pumping from the far end of the building, and behind a frosted glass window he could see bodies moving.

      To the left, behind another glass panel, there were rows of gleaming machines. A pair of gym-pumped guys were doing bench presses in there, but they were concentrating so hard on what they were doing that they didn’t even look in his direction. There was no one at the reception desk, but a large