in the weights room, Ludvig running amok down on the track. Gunnar became Mr Sweden and an ugly Norrmalm policeman with a baseball bat. Ludvig went out to the provinces and became a friendly local policeman in Vänersborg. And now they had been reunited. As paedophile police, as an evening paper had carelessly called them. And surprisingly little had changed. They had both lost their families, in completely different ways, and on the other side of the abyss, they had found each other once more. Again, more a result of differences than similarities. Ludvig was nimble, supple, elegant, European. Gunnar was big, strong, a fighter; out-and-out Swedish.
‘I have to do it,’ said Gunnar Nyberg. ‘I’ve still got twelve kilos to go before I’m down to being Sweden’s Second Biggest Policeman.’
Ludvig Johnsson laughed. ‘Yeah, I read that story. Did they talk to you first?’
‘Someone rang and asked if I still weighed a hundred and thirty-nine kilos. I said no, a hundred and forty-six. The entire story’s built on that conversation. Sweden’s Biggest Policeman.’
‘Well, listen,’ Ludvig Johnsson said abruptly, slapping his marathon-runner knees. ‘It’s bloody well time for Midsummer. One day to go. May the country’s paedophiles rest easy, at least for a couple of days. What’re you all doing?’
‘I’m going to see my grandson,’ said Nyberg without hesitation. ‘Dance around the Midsummer pole in Östhammar.’
‘I’m just going to relax,’ said Sara Svenhagen. ‘Unwind. There’s been a lot on for a bit too long now.’
‘I’m going to renew myself,’ said Ludvig Johnsson cryptically.
Suddenly, a familiar voice could be heard on Kungsholmsgatan.
‘Well, well! If it isn’t Sweden’s Very Biggest Policeman!’
A short-haired, medium-blond man dressed in a red T-shirt, jeans and sandals, a red pimple on his cheek, had appeared in sharp relief against the greyish facade of the police station. Nyberg allowed himself the trouble of standing up and spreading his arms. The two men hugged. When Nyberg let go, the other man looked as though he had just been embraced by an anaconda.
‘Distinguished paedophile hunters,’ said Nyberg jovially, ‘meet the hero of Hällunda. The pride of the police force, Paul Hjelm. Ludvig Johnsson and Sara Svenhagen.’
‘Hullo,’ said Johnsson.
‘Hi,’ said Svenhagen.
‘Hi,’ Hjelm panted, regaining his breath. ‘Congratulations on your latest crackdown, it seems to have gone really well.’
‘Thanks,’ said Svenhagen. ‘Yeah, it was a little reward for our efforts.’
‘Finally, we should add,’ said Johnsson.
‘What’re you busy with nowadays?’ asked Nyberg, patting Hjelm on the shoulder. ‘Where did you end up? Local CID?’
‘In the mundane, you could say, yeah. Right now it’s the Kvarnen Killer, if you’ve heard about that criminal mastermind.’
‘Pub brawl?’ Nyberg said thoughtlessly. ‘Aren’t you a bit . . . overqualified?’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Hjelm. ‘It’s shaping up to be something really interesting. We’ll see. I’m working with Kerstin by the way, Gunnar.’
‘That’s right!’ exclaimed Nyberg. ‘My old room-mate. She was meant to be going back home. So you ended up together? Good fit.’
‘A great fit,’ said Hjelm. ‘I’ve got to buy a couple of sandwiches from the delicious Annika’s, then we’re pressing on with the interrogations. It has its unexpected moments.’
‘What d’you say about Östhammar for Midsummer? Come up and meet the boy. Tommy.’
‘Thanks, but I can’t. I think the kids’ve got a lot going on. We’re renting the cottage on Dalarö again.’
‘Yeah, yeah, go and buy your killer sandwiches then,’ said Nyberg, ‘otherwise you’ll get a telling-off from Kerstin.’
Hjelm went in, bought a couple of well-made sandwiches from Annika’s Café & Restaurant and, waving, started off in the direction of the police station.
Though his mind was in another
‘I have to do it,’ said Gunnar Nyberg. ‘I’ve still got twelve kilos to go before I’m down to being Sweden’s Second Biggest Policeman.’
Ludvig Johnsson laughed. ‘Yeah, I read that story. Did they talk to you first?’
‘Someone rang and asked if I still weighed a hundred and thirty-nine kilos. I said no, a hundred and forty-six. The entire story’s built on that conversation. Sweden’s Biggest Policeman.’
‘Well, listen,’ Ludvig Johnsson said abruptly, slapping his marathon-runner knees. ‘It’s bloody well time for Midsummer. One day to go. May the country’s paedophiles rest easy, at least for a couple of days. What’re you all doing?’
‘I’m going to see my grandson,’ said Nyberg without hesitation. ‘Dance around the Midsummer pole in Östhammar.’
‘I’m just going to relax,’ said Sara Svenhagen. ‘Unwind. There’s been a lot on for a bit too long now.’
‘I’m going to renew myself,’ said Ludvig Johnsson cryptically.
Suddenly, a familiar voice could be heard on Kungsholmsgatan.
‘Well, well! If it isn’t Sweden’s Very Biggest Policeman!’
A short-haired, medium-blond man dressed in a red T-shirt, jeans and sandals, a red pimple on his cheek, had appeared in sharp relief against the greyish facade of the police station. Nyberg allowed himself the trouble of standing up and spreading his arms. The two men hugged. When Nyberg let go, the other man looked as though he had just been embraced by an anaconda.
‘Distinguished paedophile hunters,’ said Nyberg jovially, ‘meet the hero of Hällunda. The pride of the police force, Paul Hjelm. Ludvig Johnsson and Sara Svenhagen.’
‘Hullo,’ said Johnsson.
‘Hi,’ said Svenhagen.
‘Hi,’ Hjelm panted, regaining his breath. ‘Congratulations on your latest crackdown, it seems to have gone really well.’
‘Thanks,’ said Svenhagen. ‘Yeah, it was a little reward for our efforts.’
‘Finally, we should add,’ said Johnsson.
‘What’re you busy with nowadays?’ asked Nyberg, patting Hjelm on the shoulder. ‘Where did you end up? Local CID?’
‘In the mundane, you could say, yeah. Right now it’s the Kvarnen Killer, if you’ve heard about that criminal mastermind.’
‘Pub brawl?’ Nyberg said thoughtlessly. ‘Aren’t you a bit . . . overqualified?’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Hjelm. ‘It’s shaping up to be something really interesting. We’ll see. I’m working with Kerstin by the way, Gunnar.’
‘That’s right!’ exclaimed Nyberg. ‘My old room-mate. She was meant to be going back home. So you ended up together? Good fit.’
‘A great fit,’ said Hjelm. ‘I’ve got to buy a couple of sandwiches from the delicious Annika’s, then we’re pressing on with the interrogations. It has its unexpected moments.’
‘What d’you say about Östhammar for Midsummer? Come up and meet the boy. Tommy.’
‘Thanks, but I can’t. I think the kids’ve got a lot going on. We’re renting the cottage on Dalarö again.’
‘Yeah, yeah, go and buy your killer sandwiches then,’ said Nyberg, ‘otherwise you’ll get a telling-off from Kerstin.’
Hjelm went in, bought a couple of well-made sandwiches from Annika’s Café & Restaurant and, waving, started off in the direction of the police station.
Though his mind was in another
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