Part 38 (1/2)

'Goran Nilsson,' he said, blowing his nose. 'Who's that?'

She paused, biting her tongue, not sure of how much the man knew.

'He's also known under his alias,' she said. 'Ragnwald.'

'You mean . . . Ragnwald?' the man said, spitting the name out. 'The Yellow Dragon?'

Annika started. 'Sorry, what did you say?'

'I know of him,' Thord Axelsson said warmly. 'The mad Maoist who ran around Lulea as a revolutionary in the late sixties, I know he's back. I know what he's done.'

Annika grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper.

'I've never heard the codename Yellow Dragon used for him before,' she said. 'Ragnwald was the name he used in the Maoist groups that used to meet in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the library.'

'Before the Beasts,' Thord Axelsson said.

Annika stopped for a moment. 'Before the Beasts,' she repeated, making notes.

The line fell silent again.

'h.e.l.lo?' Annika said A deep sigh confirmed that the man was still there.

'The girls are here,' he said, his mouth close to the phone. 'I can't talk about this now.'

Annika thought quickly for a couple of seconds.

'I'm coming up to Lulea on some other business tomorrow,' she said. 'Could I visit you at home so we can talk undisturbed?'

'Margit's dead,' the man said, the sounds coming out broken and distorted. 'There's nothing for her to be afraid of any more. But I shan't let her down, ever. You need to understand that.'

Annika kept making notes even though she didn't understand him.

'I just want to understand the context,' she said. 'I'm not going to hang Margit or anyone else out to dry.'

The man sighed again and thought for a moment.

'Come at lunchtime. The girls have an appointment with the police, so we can be alone then.'

He gave her the address and directions, and told her to come around twelve o'clock.

Afterwards she let the receiver sit in its cradle for a long minute. The angels were quiet, but there was a sharp buzzing sound in her left ear. The shadows in the room were long and irregular, jumping jerkily over the walls as vehicles pa.s.sed and the streetlamp swayed.

She had to find the right way of explaining this to her editors.

She phoned reception and she was in luck, Jansson was on duty.

'How the h.e.l.l are you?' he asked, blowing smoke into the phone.

'I'm on to something,' she said. 'A real human-interest story, a poor man in a nice suburb outside Pitea whose wife has been murdered and the whole town thinks he did it.'

'But . . . ?' Jansson didn't sound particularly interested.

'Definitely didn't do it,' Annika said. 'He was at work sixty kilometres away from the scene of the crime, with three colleagues, at the time of the murder. And the police think they know who was responsible, but that hasn't made any difference for this man. His neighbours saw him being taken away in a police car early in the morning and they all think they know what happened. The local papers wrote that he was taken in for questioning, but was released due to lack of evidence. He'll be known there as the man who killed his wife until the day he dies.'

'Hmm,' Jansson said, 'I don't know.'

'Just imagine what it would be like to be in this poor man's situation,' Annika said. 'Not only has he lost the wife he loved, but he's lost his reputation among the people he's spent his life among. How on earth can he go on?' She fell silent and bit her lip, maybe she was pus.h.i.+ng it a bit far now.

'And he's prepared to talk about all this?'

She cleared her throat. 'Tomorrow lunchtime. Can I go ahead and book a ticket?'

Jansson sighed audibly. 'Okay, okay,' he said. 'After all, you are an independent reporter.'

'And this isn't about terrorism,' Annika said.

The editor laughed slightly sheepishly. 'I heard Schyman had put his foot down there,' he said.

'New day, new byline,' Annika said and hung up.

Then she dialled the number of the paper's twenty-four-hour travel office and booked herself onto the 09.40 flight to Kallax, and a hire-car, and not a small one either.

She had just ended the conversation when the front door opened and the children tumbled in, buzzing with surplus energy. She went quickly over to the computer and switched it off, then went out into the hall.

'Mummy! Do you know what, we got sweets for being so good at Grandma and Grandad's, because we didn't run and Daddy bought a paper with naked ladies and Grandad's heart hurts again and can we go to the park, pleeeeease?'

She hugged them both, laughed and rocked them slowly, warm and fragrant.

'Of course we can,' she said. 'Are your gloves dry?'

'Mine are horrid,' Ellen said.

'We'll find another pair,' Annika said and opened the pineapple cupboard.

Thomas walked past her without a glance.

'I'm going to Lulea for the day tomorrow,' she said as she pulled the gloves onto the girl's spread-out fingers. 'You'll have to drop them off and pick them up.'

He stopped at the door of the pantry, his shoulders hunched right up to his ears. Looked like he was going to turn inside out and explode; she waited for a blast that didn't come.

He carried on towards the bedroom with the evening papers and an issue of Cafe Cafe under his arm and shut the door behind him. under his arm and shut the door behind him.

'Can we go now, Mummy?'

'Yep,' Annika said, grabbing her jacket and opening the balcony door to get the sledge they kept out there. 'Off we go.'