“What’s that?” Winter asked.

“It’s the list of names and addresses of those film extras who are making that television series.” He looked at Winter, then back at the screen. “They all seem to be there. He’s hacked into your files and stolen them.”

They all stared at the screen.

‘And there’s more,“ Morelius said. ”He seems to have access to more or less everything. He’s either conducting some kind of investigation of his own, or else…“

“Has he never said anything about all this?”

“No.” Morelius keyed in another command. “Look at this.” Winter moved closer. “We have had his old address, not far from the scene of the crime, but he’s hacked into the official files and changed it. According to what it says here, he lives in Hisingen.”

Winter thought about all the police addresses they’d had for purposes of comparison. If he’d seen Bartram’s address then-

Bartram had changed the official lists.

Always assuming they could trust Morelius.

“Is he off duty?” Winter asked.

“Yes,” Ivarsson said.

“I’ll drive,” Ringmar said.

They drove past Krokens Livs, Manhattan. The film posters were still there. City of Angels. The Avengers. Ringmar parked in the street and they were out of the car even before it had stopped moving. Morelius was with them.

Winter had glanced at his watch. Past one. Happy birthday to you.

They passed the children’s playground and some Dumpsters. The apartments were some fifty yards away, with the main entrance on the other side. A group of birch trees at the back of the building seemed to have been sprayed with silver. “Thirty-six,” Morelius said. There was a light on in a second-floor window.

Winter tried the front door. It opened without his needing to shoot out the lock. Ringmar switched on the light. The stairwell walls were sky blue with a pattern in a darker shade. Lilac, Winter thought. Every detail was clear.

The front door of the apartment seemed to be of mock teak.

A police officer, Winter thought. How can you foresee that? The world has come to an end if police officers defect to the other side.

The stair light went out. They could see a light through the gap under the door. Winter rang the bell. Keep calm, Erik. We’ll just ask him a few questions because we want to know. We want to know because there’s no time left.

An image of Angela’s face hovered in his mind’s eye, but he knocked it aside with his knuckles as he pounded on the door.

“Who’s that?” said a voice from inside.

Winter looked at Morelius and gave him the go-ahead.

“It’s me, Greger, Simon. There’s something I need your help with.”

“Eh? Now?”

“It’s urgent, Greger. Please let me in.”

Not a sound from inside. Winter could feel his pistol rubbing against his chest, but left it where it was. He was calmer now, better prepared for what might be in store.

“You might have phoned,” said the voice on the other side of the door.

“Why won’t you let me in?” Morelius asked.

Winter announced his name. He knew that Bartram knew he was there.

He could hear noises on the other side of the door now. Ringmar looked at Winter. The noise grew louder. Winter could hear the music. Morelius looked confused, in the faint light on the landing. Winter could hear the guitars, the drums, the voice hissing and gurgling though the door. He was incapable of moving now. Ringmar did the shooting. Second time lucky, Winter thought. Morelius and Ringmar kicked in the door, forced their hands through the shattered plywood. Blood was pouring from Ringmar’s hands. Morelius shouted something he couldn’t make out. Ringmar’s yell seemed to come from another planet.

They were in. He could hear the shouts. His body detached itself from the stone floor of the landing. He started running. He flew.

APRIL

57

Angela gave birth to Elsa at 3:15 A.M., two days after her due date. The girl weighed eight pounds, eight ounces and was nearly nineteen inches long. Winter kept dozing off, and handed the camera to the midwife.

He held Elsa close to his chest. She was asleep. Her hair was dark, and he was surprised by how dense it was. They said she had his nose and ears. He wept and hummed “You Leave Me Breathless” into those ears. For the last couple of weeks he had played nothing but Coltrane, and prayed for the future. The interrogation room was for others. He read the transcripts, but never went in there.

Angela leaned over and said something. He looked up when she repeated it. Yes, he agreed, it’s a miracle.

Angela was radiant. It really was a miracle. One of these days it would all come back to her, but not now, he thought. Perhaps never. She was strong, stronger than he was.

They’d phoned Spain and he’d quickly handed the receiver to Angela.

The sun was emerging from behind the hills as he left the maternity clinic. He seemed to be entering a new world. The new year smelled different. It was spring. He could envisage the child going to school, playing in the street, throwing something. Did young kids still play marbles?

He got the sun in his eyes and lowered the visor. He drove away from Mölndal, but found it more and more difficult to see because of the tears in his eyes.

An elderly gentleman he didn’t recognize passed him as he was walking up the last flight of stairs. A gentleman visitor for Mrs. Malmer.

There was a different smell inside the flat. Not much different from outside. He opened all the windows. He went to the kitchen and opened a bottle, filled a crystal glass and drank.

Bartram had thanked him. Thanked him personally. Bartram had wanted to be saved, but he’d wanted to make it difficult for them. He’d come as close to Winter as it was possible to get.

Angela had come to no harm physically.

There had been a photograph hanging on the wall in Bartram’s bedroom. A young man and a young woman. They were holding hands. Winter had taken a closer look. Their faces had been cut out and exchanged. He was she and she was he. The man’s face was Bartram’s. Younger.

Winter went to the living room that looked out onto the park, and stood in the window.

He drank away his thoughts. Two more days and there’d be an extra resident in the apartment. He took another sip, the champagne tripped off his tongue. He turned around, and felt a twinge in his left knee. He almost lost his balance, paused for a moment, then went into the kitchen and put his glass on the draining board.