‘When you spoke to him on the phone, did he sound as if he’d be willing to help us?’ asked Gösta. He knew from experience that cooperation between police districts often depended on the particular individual they happened to be dealing with. If they ended up with a surly type, it would be almost impossible to find out any information.

‘He sounded friendly,’ said Patrik as he led the way to the reception area. ‘Patrik Hedström and Gösta Flygare. We’re here to see Ulf Karlgren.’

‘That’s me,’ boomed a voice behind them, and a big man wearing a black leather jacket and cowboy boots stepped forward. ‘I was thinking we could sit in the cafeteria. My office is too cramped, and the coffee is better down here.’

‘Sure,’ said Patrik. He couldn’t help looking this unlikely police officer up and down. Regulation attire clearly held no appeal for Ulf Karlgren, and that became even more apparent when Patrik glimpsed the faded T-shirt the man was wearing under his jacket. It said AC/DC across the chest.

‘This way.’

Ulf took long strides as he headed for the cafeteria. Patrik and Gösta did their best to keep up. From behind they noticed that the man had a long ponytail that compensated for the thinning hair on top of his head. And they could clearly see the outline of a snuff container in his back pocket.

‘Hello, girls! You’re more beautiful today than ever.’ Ulf winked at the women behind the counter, and they giggled happily. ‘So what have you got to tempt me today? I need to watch my figure, you know!’ Ulf patted the stomach that was stretching his T-shirt tight, and Patrik found himself thinking about Mellberg. But that was as far as the similarities went. Ulf was a significantly more appealing type of person.

‘We’ll take a Princess pastry each,’ said Ulf, pointing to a tray of enormous pastries covered with green marzipan.

Patrik started to protest, but Ulf waved aside his objections.

‘You could use a bit of meat on those bones,’ he said, loading the pastries on to a tray. ‘And three cups of coffee. That will do it.’

‘You don’t need to …’ said Patrik as Ulf took a credit card out of his well-worn wallet.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s my treat. Come on, let’s sit down.’

They followed him to a table and sat down. Ulf’s cheerful expression suddenly turned serious.

‘I hear that you’ve got some questions about one of the biker gangs.’

Patrik nodded. He briefly summarized what had happened and what they’d found out so far. Then he explained that a witness had seen Mats Sverin being assaulted by several guys who looked like bikers with eagles on their backs.

Ulf nodded. ‘That sounds credible. From your description, we could be talking about the IE.’

‘IE?’ Gösta had already finished off his pastry. Patrik couldn’t understand where his colleague put all the food that he ate. He was as gaunt as a greyhound.

‘Illegal Eagles.’ Ulf had dropped four sugar cubes in his cup and was slowly stirring his coffee. ‘They’re the number one gang in the area. Meaner, uglier, and more ruthless than all the others.’

‘Shit.’

‘If they’re the ones involved, I’d advise you to proceed cautiously. We’ve had some rather unfortunate confrontations with that gang.’

‘What are they mixed up in?’ asked Patrik.

‘Drugs, prostitution, protection rackets, extortion – you name it. It’d be easier to tell you what they’re not mixed up in.’

‘Cocaine?’

‘Definitely. But also heroin, amphetamines and, to a certain degree, anabolic steroids.’

‘Have you had a chance to check out whether Mats Sverin was ever part of any police investigations here?’ asked Patrik.

‘His name has never come up.’ Ulf shook his head. ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t involved, only that he never came to our attention.’

‘He doesn’t exactly fit the profile. As a gang member, I mean,’ said Gösta, leaning back with a sated look on his face.

‘The core group is made up of bikers, but there are all sorts of other types on the fringes, especially when it comes to narcotics. Some of our investigations have taken us right to the upper levels of society.’

‘Would it be possible to get in contact with this gang?’ Patrik downed the last of his coffee.

Ulf immediately got up to get him some more.

‘The second cup is free,’ he said when he came back and sat down. ‘As I was saying, I wouldn’t recommend making direct contact with these gentlemen. We’ve had a number of unpleasant experiences with them. So if you could start from some other angle, maybe talk to people connected to this guy Sverin, I’d advise you to do that instead.’

‘I understand,’ said Patrik. ‘Who’s the head of the IE?’

‘Stefan Ljungberg. A Nazi sympathizer who started the gang ten years ago. He’s been in the slammer countless times, ever since he was eighteen. Before that, he was in a locked juvenile facility. You know the type.’

Patrik nodded, though in truth it was a type he hadn’t really encountered before. The criminals back home seemed awfully tame by comparison.

‘What would make them come to Fjällbacka to put a bullet in somebody’s head?’ asked Gösta.

‘I can think of a number of likely scenarios. Trying to leave the gang is usually the best way to end up with a bullet in your skull. Although that doesn’t seem to be the case in this instance, so we have to consider other possibilities. Maybe they were cheated in a drug deal, maybe they were worried that somebody was going to talk. If so, maybe we should interpret the assault as a warning. But this is all pure speculation. I’ll ask my colleagues if they’ve heard anything more concrete. I’d also recommend that you talk to people who were close to Sverin. Often they know more than they think.’

Patrik was doubtful. This had proved the biggest problem in their investigation so far. No one seemed to know very much about Mats Sverin.

‘Thank you for your time,’ he said, getting up.

Ulf shook hands with Patrik and smiled.

‘No problem. We’re only too glad to be of help. Give me a shout if you have any other questions.’

‘I’m sure we will,’ said Patrik. There was so much that seemed logical about this particular lead. At the same time, it didn’t feel right. He simply couldn’t figure out this case. And he still had no idea who Mats really was. It was hard to get his head around the case when, over and over in his mind, Patrik kept hearing the shot from yesterday.

‘What shall we do now?’ Martin was standing in the doorway to Paula’s office.

‘I don’t know.’ She felt as discouraged as Martin looked.

The events of the previous day had taken a toll on all of them. No one had seen Mellberg. He’d locked himself in his office, and that was probably just as well. The way things stood at the moment, his colleagues would have had a hard time hiding their contempt. Fortunately for Paula, she hadn’t seen him at home either. By the time she got home last night, he had already gone to bed. And when she left this morning, he was still asleep. At breakfast Rita had tried to talk to Paula about what had happened, but she had let it be known that she was in no mood to discuss the matter. And Johanna hadn’t even tried to talk about it. She had simply turned away when Paula crawled into bed. The wall between them was getting higher. Paula felt her mouth go dry, as if from panic, at the thought. She had to take a sip of water from the glass on her desk. She didn’t have the energy to think about Johanna right now.

‘Isn’t there anything we can do while they’re in Göteborg?’ Martin came in and sat down.

‘Lennart is supposed to get back to us today,’ said Paula. She hadn’t slept well, and no matter how much she sympathized with Martin’s impatience, she was too tired to take the initiative herself. But Martin continued to sit there, fixing her with an enquiring look.