“I wonder when they discovered that they were brothers,” said Ringmar.

“We’ll ask Gustav,” said Winter.

They drove past Pellerin’s Margarine Factory. There was more traffic now than when they’d left Gothenburg.

People were roaming the streets in the city center as if it were a normal Saturday night, more than on a normal Saturday night.

“Christmas Day is when everybody goes out nowadays,” said Ringmar in a monotonous tone of voice.

Taxis were lining up outside the Panorama. The glass wall of the hotel was decorated with a star pattern.

Winter parked outside the student dorm, where most of the windows were just as dark as the facade.

Bergenhem slipped into the backseat.

“Nobody has come out or gone in through this door,” said Bergenhem.

“Nobody at all?”

“No.”

“OK, let’s go in,” said Winter.

45

WINTER KNOCKED ON GUSTAV SMEDSBERG’S DOOR. THE BOY opened it after the second knock. He let go of the handle and went back in without greeting them or saying anything at all.

Why had he been left alone? Ringmar wondered. It wasn’t the intention that he should be on his own.

They followed Gustav into his room that looked out over Mossen. The high-rise buildings on the hill opposite towered up toward the heavens. The field in between was deserted and flecked here and there with black snow.

Gustav Smedsberg remained standing without speaking.

“Where’s Mats?” Winter asked.

Smedsberg gave a start.

“It’s urgent,” said Winter. “A little boy’s life is at stake.”

“How do you know about Mats?” asked Smedsberg.

“We’ll tell you,” said Winter. “But just now this is urgent.”

“What’s all this about-a boy?”

“Has Mats been here?” asked Ringmar.

Smedsberg nodded.

“When?”

“I don’t kn… This morning some time. Early.”

“Was he alone?”

“Yes. What’s all this about a boy?”

“Haven’t you read the newspapers or watched television or listened to the radio?”

“No.”

Winter could see that his ignorance was genuine.

“Didn’t Mats say anything?”

“About what?”

Winter explained, briefly.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes. We’ve been in his apartment.”

“Oh, shit.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was going away. Far away.”

“On his own?”

“He didn’t mention anybody else. No boy, nobody at all.”

“Far away? Did you tell him about me?” Ringmar asked. “About what happened at your father’s place? And about Georg? Last night?”

“Yes.”

“He cried. He said he was pleased.”

“Where might he be, Gustav? Where could he have gone?”

“He could have gone there, I suppose.”

“He was there, but he isn’t now,” said Ringmar. “We just came from there.”

Smedsberg looked weary, or worse.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know where he is. You have to believe me. I don’t want anything to happen either.”

“Could something happen?” Winter asked. “What could happen? You’ve seen him recently. You know him.”

“I don’t know him,” said Smedsberg, “I don’t kn-” Then he looked at Winter and said: “He… He said something about flying.”

“Flying? Flying to where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where from?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Where might it be? You know him.”

“No, no.”

“You’ve met him more often than I have,” said Winter.

“He’s never said anything about this to me,” said Smedsberg, looking up. “Nothing at all. But…”

“Yes?”

“He has seemed, I don’t know, creepy. I don’t know how to put it. As if everything was coming back to him. I can’t explain it.”

You don’t need to explain, Winter thought.

“We have to leave now, but one of our officers will stay here and then somebody else will help you,” he said. “We can keep talking later.”

Gustav didn’t seem to hear. He was still standing there in his room when they left. The lights on the staircase went out as they were walking down it. From the outside Winter could see Gustav’s silhouette through the window.

“This is the country we have built, the New Jerusalem,” said Ringmar.

Winter made no comment.

“He told me about something in the car,” said Ringmar. “Gustav.”

“What?”

“That fake newspaper boy was Aryan Kaite. Aryan was following him.”

“Why?”

“He suspected it was Gustav who had attacked him.”

“He was wrong.”

“And he had confirmation of that,” said Ringmar. “He saw the old man trying to club down his own son.”

“Have you had time to check this with Kaite?”

“Yes.”

“Good God. Did Gustav know?”

“He didn’t see who it was. But Kaite did.”

“And Gustav saw Kaite?”

“Yes, but he didn’t recognize him.”

“So it was Kaite who told Gustav?”

“Yes.”

“And Gustav didn’t want to believe him,” said Winter.

“It’s complicated,” said Ringmar.

“This is the country we have built, the New Jerusalem,” said Winter.

They walked to the car.

“Let’s go to my place and have something to eat,” said Winter, thinking about Angela.

“Am I hungry?” said Ringmar.

“You can do the cooking.”

“Basque omelette?” Ringmar asked.

“Why not?”

Winter spoke to Bengt Johansson on the phone again. He could hear the busy traffic in the street below, a stark contrast with the previous day.

“I can check in on you for a while later this evening, if you like,” said Winter.

“I spoke to Carolin earlier,” said Johansson. “It felt good.”

Aneta Djanali had continued to interrogate Carolin Johansson, but she was unable to add any further details. They might have seen the video film by now. Aneta hadn’t called Winter yet.

They ate. Ringmar had cut the tomatoes for the omelette the opposite way this time.

“We need meat,” said Winter.

“We need a housekeeper,” said Ringmar. “We need women.”

Cooking isn’t our first priority right now, Winter thought.

“Are you tired, Bertil?”

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

“He might have driven to the seaside,” said Ringmar. “Could be on a beach somewhere.”

Winter had sent all the officers available to scour the coastline.

They tried to set up checks at Landvetter and other smaller airports. But Winter didn’t believe Jerner would be taking a flight to anywhere. He thought his own flight would be more likely.

“How many people do we have at Nordstan?” he asked.

“Now? Not many. It’s empty. None of the shops are open today. But they are supposed to have scoured the place pretty thoroughly.”

“That was where he grabbed Micke,” said Winter. “Is he intending to take him back there?”

“He’s not there, Erik. The place is empty.”

“He used to go there a lot. You’ve seen a few of the other films. He seemed to like going there.”

“He’s not there,” said Ringmar again.

“Maybe there’s something special that draws him there?” said Winter.

Ringmar made no comment.

“Something we don’t see,” said Winter. “Something he sees but we don’t?”

“I think I know what you mean,” said Ringmar.

“When do they open again?” Winter asked.

“Tomorrow at ten o’clock. The Boxing Day sales.”

“Is it Boxing Day tomorrow? The second day of Christmas?”

“Christmas will soon be over,” said Ringmar.

“And I haven’t bought you a Christmas present, Bertil.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t bought one for you either.”

Winter stood up.

“I didn’t call Moa either. I promised I would.”

“Don’t even think about it,” said Ringmar. “No doubt you would have only made things worse.”

“I agree,” said Winter. “Are you coming with me?”

“Where to?”

“To Nordstan.”

“It’s empty, Erik.”

“I know, I know. But it’s better than sitting here. Bengt Johansson lives on the other side of the station as well.”