Liza Marklund - Red Wolf

‘I was just out taking a walk. I stumbled across a bag of money that someone must have dropped. I handed it over to the police as lost property. Anything else you’re wondering?’

‘That’s Ragnwald’s life’s work,’ the commissioner said. ‘He killed people for money all his life and never used a franc to make his life easier, and because of that he was never caught. He collected it all in his doctor’s safety deposit box in Bilbao and took the whole lot out one month ago.’

Annika looked through the window again.

‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘I wonder what happened to it.’

‘Perhaps he dropped it? In a transformer box, perhaps?’

‘Perhaps, but I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.’

The commissioner chuckled, admitting defeat.

‘Do you know how much it was?’

‘I’d guess about twelve million.’

‘Almost fourteen; one hundred and twenty-eight million kronor.’

‘Wow.’

‘No one has reported the money as missing. If the owner doesn’t come forward within six months, it goes to the person who found it.’

‘But?’ Annika said.

‘But,’ Q said, ‘because the chief prosecutor in Luleå suspects that the money was the result of criminal activity, he’s considering impounding it.’

‘That’s bad luck,’ Annika said.

‘Hang on a moment, I haven’t finished. So that you don’t fight for the money, the prosecutor has decided to give you the customary ten per cent finder’s reward.’

The carriage, and the world, suddenly went very quiet. Annika saw a shopping mall and a garden centre swirl past.

‘Really?’ she said.

‘You’ll have to wait six months. Then it’s yours.’

She did the calculations in her head, stumbling over the zeros.

‘What happens if someone claims it?’

‘They’d have to describe the object the money was in when it was found, describe roughly where it was found, and naturally how they came to be in possession of it. Are you fond of money?’

‘Not particularly,’ Annika said. ‘It’s really only exciting when you haven’t got any.’

‘True enough.’

‘By the way,’ Annika said, opening the newspaper on the seat beside her, ‘who said Blomberg blew up the plane at F21?’

‘He did, he confessed to it. Why? Do you know otherwise?’

Annika saw Thord Axelsson in front of her, his face turned grey by lifelong secrets.

‘No, no,’ she said quickly, ‘I was just wondering how it all fitted together…’

‘Hmm,’ Q said, and hung up.

She was left sitting there with her phone, weighing it in her hand.

Twelve point eight million. Kronor. Almost thirteen million kronor. Thirteen. Million. In six months. Was anyone likely to claim the money? Could anyone? Who could describe the bag it was found in, the place it was found?

Ragnwald and her. No one else.

And who was going to stick their hand up and say: the serial killer’s money is mine?

Thirteen million kronor.

She rang Anne Snapphane.

‘What was the flat on Artillerigatan like, then?’

Anne sighed, only just awake. ‘What time is it?’

‘Quarter past something. Was it stylish?’

‘Pure pornography; I had an orgasm the moment I entered the building.’

‘Put in an offer. You can borrow four million from me. I’ve found a load of money.’

‘Hang on, I need a pee…’

Annika heard the receiver hit Anne’s bedside table, as she watched the inner city rear up with its brick buildings and traffic-packed streets, swirling traffic fumes and crowds of commuters.

‘This train will reach Stockholm Central in three minutes,’ a metallic voice announced.

Annika pulled the polar jacket up over her shoulders.

‘What did you say?’ Anne said, back on the line. ‘You found a load of money?’

‘Well, I’m not exactly going to broadcast the fact, but round about Midsummer I’m going to get a reward of several million for handing it in. You can have four of them to help you move to Östermalm.’

She bit her lip and waited. No one needed to know exactly how much she was going to get.

There was a clattering sound on the line.

‘You’re mad; you do know that, right?’

The train slowed down, the rails fanning out as it approached the station.

‘Okay,’ Annika said. ‘Then I’ll buy it and you can rent it from me.’

‘Look,’ Anne Snapphane said, ‘I can’t let you do this.’

Annika stood up, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder.

‘You haven’t read the papers, then?’

‘You woke me up.’

‘It says in the Evening Post that Karina Björnlund isn’t planning to resign. She wants to carry on as a minister.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘That’s wrong,’ Annika said, bracing herself for the jolt as the train stopped. ‘She’ll resign tomorrow.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I’ve got to go-’ She ended the call, jumped down onto the platform and walked back towards the exit. The air was cold, but still milder and softer than in Luleå and she filled her lungs greedily. The bag slapped against her back, the ground was solid and even.

She would do some shopping, write up the article, email it to Schyman and pick up the children early. They would have time to bake something and rent a film and watch it together as they waited for Daddy. Maybe some crisps, just this once, and a big bottle of cola. Have a meal with a starter and dessert, with homemade Béarnaise sauce.

She emerged onto Kungsbron, and walked off towards Fleminggatan. The angels in her head were completely quiet. The space they had occupied was now available for real thoughts, but right now she was taking a break from thinking.

Maybe the angels were gone for good.

Maybe they were only hiding for a while.

The most important thing is having somewhere to belong , she thought.

Thomas stepped off the bus outside their door and looked up at the façade. There were lights on in all their windows, he could see an Advent star and a Christmas candlestick in the living-room window, and felt a warm, soft glow in his chest.

It was good to have her home again.

He flew lightly up the stairs, rang the bell cheerily before opening the door, and was met with the children’s happy cries; he could hear them before he even stepped into the flat.

‘Daddy!’

They leaped into his arms and showed him drawings and told him about outings and the film they had watched was really good, they asked about the computer, and Mummy had given them crisps, and cola, and Ellen had made the salad and Kalle had made a Swiss roll with buttercream that they were going to have for dessert.

He hung up his coat, put his briefcase to one side, loosened his tie and went into the kitchen. Annika was frying steak, and had opened the window a little to let out the smell.

‘Oh good, you’re here,’ she said. ‘We’re ready to eat.’

He went over and put his hands on her shoulders, kissed her neck and pressed his crotch hard against her buttocks, wrapping his arms round her.

‘You need to be careful,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t you realize how precious you are to us?’

She turned round, looked up into his eyes, kissed him gently.

‘I’ve got something good to tell you,’ she said. ‘Sit down.’

He sat down at the table, already laid for dinner, poured some mineral water and looked round for the morning paper.

‘I’ve found a house,’ she said, putting the sizzling frying pan on the designer trivet. ‘In Djursholm. Newly built, only six point nine million.’

He looked up at her, at her blushing cheeks. ‘What?’

‘Sea view,’ she said, ‘so you’ll be able to see the sea again. Vinterviksvägen, do you know where that is? Big garden with fruit trees, oak floors throughout, open-plan kitchen and dining room. Mediterranean mosaic in both bathrooms, four bedrooms.’