“So they didn’t have a very big party,” Helander said.

“Three people, it seems.”

“The same as last time.”

“Yes.”

“So we’re waiting for Siv Martell to tell us. They must have been planning to dine with the murderer.”

Winter said nothing.

“How is she?” Djanali asked.

“Still unconscious,” Ringmar said. “Or perhaps they’re keeping her anesthetized.”

“Exactly what happened to her?” Halders asked.

Winter told him. Several of those present breathed in sharply, there was a sort of whisper all around the room.

“Oh, hell,” Halders said. “And they think she’s going to be able to give evidence?”

“Meanwhile, we have a job to do,” Winter said.

“Wall Street,” Halders said.

“Yes?”

“Vallgatan. That’s where the record shop is. It’s still there, I suppose?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t that kid buy the CD there?”

“That’s right,” Winter said. “He was there. We’ve checked.”

“Did they have several copies?”

“We’re checking that now,” Ringmar said. ‘Again, I should add. The question’s been asked before.“

“He must have bought the crap somewhere,” Halders said. He turned to Ringmar. “But it doesn’t have to have been there.”

“No. But what are you getting at exactly?”

“It could have been bought in the USA. That’s where the CD comes from, isn’t it?”

“Canada.”

“Canada. All right. That’s not far from the USA. What’s in the USA? Wall Street’s in the USA. New York, to be exact. Manhattan, to be even more exact.”

“Are you saying we should start looking in Manhattan?” asked Börjesson, one of the younger detectives.

“Manhattan,” Winter said.

“Yes…” said Halders.

“Manhattan…” Winter said again. “Janne, could you get a copy of the words for the Sacrament CD, please?”

Möllerström hurried off to his office, but was soon back. Winter took the paper and started reading.

It had been somewhere toward the end-there. He looked up, then down again. There it was. In two places.

He read the lines out loud, two lines from each location in order to make the connection clear. They were about Manhattan. Short visits to the earth.

“Sonofabitch,” Halders said. “I was right.”

“But it could be a coincidence,” Winter said. “We must keep reminding ourselves that all these clues, or whatever they are, might be pure misinformation.”

“But we shouldn’t take any risks,” Halders said. “I hereby volunteer to go and check on the spot.”

You’re already on your way to the seventh century B.C., Winter thought, and read the lines again. Manhattan was there, albeit as a place deep down in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

“This only makes matters worse,” Djanali said. She looked at Winter. “How could we check if it’s relevant? Are you really going to send Fredrik to Manhattan?”

Everybody burst out laughing. Winter cleared his throat.

“This is only one part of a bigger picture,” he said. “Manhattan or not.”

“There are Manhattans all over the world,” Djanali said. “A newsstand could call itself Manhattan. Or a pizzeria.”

“What does it mean?” Möllerström said. “The word must mean something.”

“It’s Indian,” Ringmar said. “We’ll check up on that.”

“Why did he let her live?” Djanali asked out of the blue.

“A good question,” Halders said.

“What does it mean? The fact that she’s still alive?” Djanali looked at Winter. “Have you spoken to Lareda about that?”

“Not yet.”

“Something disturbed him,” Halders said.

“Any ideas?” asked Winter.

“The newspaper boy.”

“It’s incredible,” said Möllerström. “For the first time ever Göteborgs Posten is published on New Year’s Day, and just see what the poor newspaper boy finds.”

“No national holidays for newspapers anymore,” Halders said. “Talk about a successful premiere.”

“It happened before then,” Winter said. “The murder.”

“The telephone,” Halders said.

“We’re checking calls.”

‘A second person involved?“

Ringmar shrugged.

I’m fed up with speculation, Winter thought.

Just then Beier came in without knocking and stood beside Winter.

“I thought you’d want to hear this.” He paused for effect. “The man’s fingerprints… Bengt Martell’s. They match several we found in the Valkers’ flat.”

“Sonofabitch,” Halders said.

No more speculation, thought Winter.

“They’ve always sworn blind they’d never been there,” Halders said. “Both when Aneta and I were there, and when Erik paid them a visit.”

“So they were lying,” Ringmar said.

“He was, at least,” said Winter.

“The sperm,” said Halders. “When you’ve taken the blood samples you’ll find the DNA test shows that the guy’s sperm was on the Valkers’ sofa.”

If there’s enough blood left for that, thought Djanali, who had passed on the photographs, one at a time.

“You think there was something fishy about that relationship, then?” Helander said to Halders.

“I think their mutual interest was sex,” he said. He stood up. Beier was still there. “You can never tell about such things by looking at people, you can’t even suspect it, really. But more and more people are trying to make new contacts… and they want to have sex with one another. Wife-swapping parties. Group sex. God only knows what else.” He paused for breath. “Swinger parties. I think they’re called swinger parties.”

“You seem to know all about them,” said Möllerström.

“Shut your trap.” Halders remained on his feet. He turned to Winter. “It’s a way of meeting people. We’ve been wondering about how they got to know each other, haven’t we? They didn’t seem to have anything in common. No past history or anything like that.”

Winter recognized his own train of thought.

“Good thinking, Fredrik,” he said.

“Now that you mention it,” Beier said, “we did find a few pornographic things at the Martells‘. Magazines.”

“Which magazines?”

“I can’t remember. Just a minute.” Beier went to the telephone on a table in the corner, and dialed the direct number to his team at the scene of the crime. He asked his question, listened for a moment, then replaced the receiver. “Right. They were Aktuell Rapport.”

“Bingo,” shouted Halders, who was still standing. “Bingo.”

“Would you mind explaining?” asked Winter.

“I noticed a few copies of Aktuell Rapport hidden away at the Elfvegrens’ place. Under the table.” Halders looked at Aneta Djanali. “Isn’t that right, Aneta. I mentioned it to you at the time.”

“Yes.”

“Aktuell Rapport,” Halders said. “And the good news is that the Elfvegrens are still alive and kicking.” He turned to Beier. “When do we get the DNA results?”

Is that the lowest common denominator? Winter thought, sex contacts?

“You’re saying that they run ads for sex contacts?” he said. “In those magazines?”

Halders looked at him as if he were a child.

“Just a few little ones,” he said.

Ads for sex contacts, Winter thought again. It could well be that the Valkers and the Martells met in that way and got to know each other. Or are we jumping to conclusions? They’d have to come down hard on the Elfvegrens again. And if that really is how the couples met…

“That could be how the murderer came into contact with his victims,” Ringmar said, thus voicing Winter’s thoughts.