snow
lined the streets like white sculptures, silent and motionless.
Nothing evoked stronger feelings than children at risk; Alex was well aware of that, so he wasn’t surprised when he walked in and saw how many people had gathered to support the
parents in their search for the two boys.
The general secretary recognised him.
‘Any news?’ he said, his tone almost pleading. He adjusted his glasses which had slipped down his nose. The yarmulke perched on the back of his head was black and crooked. It was
interesting to observe the effects of a divergence from normality.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Alex said. ‘I was about to ask you the same question.’
The general secretary shook his head gloomily.
‘Not a trace.’
‘And there’s no reason to suspect that the boys might have gone off somewhere of their own accord?’
‘No. Where would they go? They’re ten years old, there’s a blizzard and it’s minus five out there.’
Just as Alex opened his mouth to say something about children who went missing and where they usually went, he caught sight of someone he hadn’t seen for a long time.
Peder Rydh.
A tsunami of emotions surged through his body. Peder had been there when Alex’s career reached its zenith, when he was asked to lead his own freestanding team. He had selected Peder
himself, and Fredrika had joined immediately afterwards. As time went by they had become one of the best teams Alex had ever worked with.
The pain of loss seared his soul like salt on an open wound. He was leading a similar team now, with a small core and a wide periphery. But without Peder Rydh.
When had he last seen Peder? They had bumped into one another in town about a year ago, but that was all.
Peder was sitting at one of the tables, deep in thought. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hand, frowning as he read. The years had left a clear impression on his face. He looked hardened.
Hardened but balanced.
‘Excuse me,’ Alex said to the general secretary, and walked over towards Peder.
When he was only a metre or so away, Peder looked up and saw Alex. His face broke into such a broad grin that Alex had to take several deep breaths to stop the tears from coming.
They hugged each other tightly, without saying a word.
‘You’re looking well,’ Alex said when they had let go.
‘I’m fine,’ Peder said. ‘I don’t actually start until tomorrow, but they asked if I’d come in tonight.’
A shadow passed across his face, and a flicker of the defiance that had been so typical of him was visible for a split second.
‘What can you tell me?’ Alex said.
They sat down at the table. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss private matters.
‘Not much. The boys didn’t turn up for their tennis coaching session, and they hadn’t said anything to their friends about other plans.’
‘Have you met the parents?’
‘The mothers are over there; the fathers are out searching.’
‘Out searching.’ As if that was a feasible option. A search party in Stockholm city centre. In a blizzard. Senseless and pointless.
‘They seem, at least at first glance, to be harmonious families. One of the fathers is perhaps a little unstable, but I can’t decide whether that’s because of what’s
happened, or whether he’s always like that.’
Of course not – how could he possibly know when the investigation had been going on for less than an hour? And a person could be unstable for all kinds of different reasons.
Peder lowered his voice.
‘The community has a lot of contacts within the police.’
‘So I’ve realised,’ Alex said.
‘One name in particular has been mentioned several times over the last hour: Eden Lundell. I’ve never heard of him or her – have you?’
He certainly had.
Eden Lundell. A woman so strong that she could declare war on any country, all by herself. They had worked together only once, but that was enough. Alex had the greatest respect for Eden
Lundell.
‘I know
lined the streets like white sculptures, silent and motionless.
Nothing evoked stronger feelings than children at risk; Alex was well aware of that, so he wasn’t surprised when he walked in and saw how many people had gathered to support the
parents in their search for the two boys.
The general secretary recognised him.
‘Any news?’ he said, his tone almost pleading. He adjusted his glasses which had slipped down his nose. The yarmulke perched on the back of his head was black and crooked. It was
interesting to observe the effects of a divergence from normality.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Alex said. ‘I was about to ask you the same question.’
The general secretary shook his head gloomily.
‘Not a trace.’
‘And there’s no reason to suspect that the boys might have gone off somewhere of their own accord?’
‘No. Where would they go? They’re ten years old, there’s a blizzard and it’s minus five out there.’
Just as Alex opened his mouth to say something about children who went missing and where they usually went, he caught sight of someone he hadn’t seen for a long time.
Peder Rydh.
A tsunami of emotions surged through his body. Peder had been there when Alex’s career reached its zenith, when he was asked to lead his own freestanding team. He had selected Peder
himself, and Fredrika had joined immediately afterwards. As time went by they had become one of the best teams Alex had ever worked with.
The pain of loss seared his soul like salt on an open wound. He was leading a similar team now, with a small core and a wide periphery. But without Peder Rydh.
When had he last seen Peder? They had bumped into one another in town about a year ago, but that was all.
Peder was sitting at one of the tables, deep in thought. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hand, frowning as he read. The years had left a clear impression on his face. He looked hardened.
Hardened but balanced.
‘Excuse me,’ Alex said to the general secretary, and walked over towards Peder.
When he was only a metre or so away, Peder looked up and saw Alex. His face broke into such a broad grin that Alex had to take several deep breaths to stop the tears from coming.
They hugged each other tightly, without saying a word.
‘You’re looking well,’ Alex said when they had let go.
‘I’m fine,’ Peder said. ‘I don’t actually start until tomorrow, but they asked if I’d come in tonight.’
A shadow passed across his face, and a flicker of the defiance that had been so typical of him was visible for a split second.
‘What can you tell me?’ Alex said.
They sat down at the table. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss private matters.
‘Not much. The boys didn’t turn up for their tennis coaching session, and they hadn’t said anything to their friends about other plans.’
‘Have you met the parents?’
‘The mothers are over there; the fathers are out searching.’
‘Out searching.’ As if that was a feasible option. A search party in Stockholm city centre. In a blizzard. Senseless and pointless.
‘They seem, at least at first glance, to be harmonious families. One of the fathers is perhaps a little unstable, but I can’t decide whether that’s because of what’s
happened, or whether he’s always like that.’
Of course not – how could he possibly know when the investigation had been going on for less than an hour? And a person could be unstable for all kinds of different reasons.
Peder lowered his voice.
‘The community has a lot of contacts within the police.’
‘So I’ve realised,’ Alex said.
‘One name in particular has been mentioned several times over the last hour: Eden Lundell. I’ve never heard of him or her – have you?’
He certainly had.
Eden Lundell. A woman so strong that she could declare war on any country, all by herself. They had worked together only once, but that was enough. Alex had the greatest respect for Eden
Lundell.
‘I know
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