‘Erica…’ Patrik put down his newspaper and tilted his head. ‘I had a little talk with Martin when he brought that folder over here. And he asked me to do him a favour.’ Okay, to be honest, he was the one who had offered to help out, but he didn’t need to tell Erica that. He cleared his throat and went on. ‘He asked me to check up on somebody in Göteborg who was receiving regular bank payments from Erik Frankel. Every month for fifty years.’

‘Fifty years?’ said Erica, raising her eyebrows. ‘He’d been paying somebody for fifty years? What was it? Blackmail?’ She couldn’t hide the fact that she found the idea rather exciting.

‘Nobody knows. And it’s probably nothing, but… Well, Martin wondered if I could go to Göteborg and check it out.’

‘Of course. I’ll go with you,’ said Erica enthusiastically.

Patrik stared at her. That wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been expecting.

‘Er, well, maybe…’ he stammered as he pondered whether there was any reason why he shouldn’t take his wife along. After all, it was just a routine assignment, checking on some bank payments, so there shouldn’t be any problem.

‘Okay, come with me. Then we’ll drop by and visit Lotta afterwards so Maja can see her cousins.’

‘Great,’ said Erica. She liked Patrik’s sister. ‘And maybe I can find somebody in Göteborg who can tell me about the medal.’

‘That seems possible. Make a few calls this afternoon and see if you can find anyone who knows about that sort of thing.’ He picked up the newspaper and went back to reading. Best to make good use of his time before Maja woke up.

Erica picked up the magnifying glass and took another look at the notepad on Erik’s desk. Ignoto Militi. Something was stirring in her subconscious.

This time it took only half an hour before he got the hang of the steps.

‘Good, Bertil,’ said Rita appreciatively, giving his hand an extra little squeeze. I can feel that you’re getting into the rhythm now.’

‘Not bad, huh?’ said Mellberg modestly. ‘I’ve always had a talent for dancing.’

‘Indeed you do,’ she said with a wink. ‘I heard that you and Johanna had coffee together.’ She smiled as she looked up at him. That was something else he found attractive about Rita. He’d never been particularly tall, but since she was so petite, he felt like a giant.

‘I just happened to walk past your block of flats…’ he said, embarrassed. ‘And then I saw Johanna, and she asked if I’d like to come upstairs for coffee.’

‘Ah, I see. You just happened to be walking past,’ laughed Rita, as they continued to sway in time to the salsa music. ‘It’s too bad I wasn’t home when you happened to walk past. But Johanna said you had a very nice time.’

‘Yes, well, she’s a sweet girl,’ said Mellberg, again recalling the feel of the baby’s foot kicking against his hand. ‘A really sweet girl.’

‘It hasn’t always been easy for them.’ Rita sighed. ‘And I had a hard time getting used to the idea in the beginning. But I probably knew even before Paula brought Johanna home to meet me. And now they’ve been together for almost ten years, and, well, I can honestly say that there’s nobody else I’d rather see Paula with. They’re perfect for each other, so the fact that they’re both female doesn’t really seem to matter.’

‘But it must have been easier in Stockholm. Being accepted, I mean,’ said Mellberg cautiously. Then he swore as he stepped on Rita’s foot. ‘It’s more common there, I mean. When I watch TV, I sometimes get the impression that every other person in Stockholm is gay.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ Rita laughed. ‘But of course we were a little nervous about moving here. I have to say that I’ve been pleasantly surprised. I don’t think the girls have run into any problems so far. Or maybe people just haven’t noticed. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. What are they supposed to do? Stop living? Decide not to move where they want to? No, sometimes a person has to dare to take a leap into the unknown.’ She suddenly looked sad, as if she were staring at something far away over Mellberg’s shoulder. He thought he knew what she was thinking about.

‘Was it hard? Having to flee?’ he asked cautiously. Usually he did his best to avoid sensitive questions, or he would ask them only because it was expected of him, and he never cared what the answer might be. But right now he really wanted to know.

‘It was both hard and easy,’ Rita told him, and in her dark eyes he could see that she’d been through experiences that he couldn’t even imagine. ‘It was easy to leave what had become of my country. But hard to leave the country that it once had been.’

For a moment she lost the rhythm of the dance and stopped, her hands still in Mellberg’s. Then her eyes flashed, and she pulled her hands away and clapped loudly.

‘So, now it’s time to learn the next step. The twirl. Bertil, help me demonstrate.’ She took his hands again and slowly showed him the steps he needed to do in order to twirl her under his arm. It wasn’t simple, and he got his hands and feet all tangled up. But Rita didn’t lose patience. She just kept at it, over and over, until Bertil and the other couples figured it out.

‘It’ll be fine,’ she said, looking up at Mellberg. He wondered whether she meant only the dance. Or something else as well. He hoped it was the latter.

It was starting to get dark outside. The sheet on the hospital bed rustled faintly whenever he moved, so he tried to stay still. He preferred absolute silence. He could do nothing to control the sounds outside – the sound of voices, of people walking past, of trays clattering. But in here he would make sure that it was as quiet as possible. That the silence wasn’t disturbed by rustling sheets.

Herman stared out of the window. As it grew darker, he was gradually able to see his own image reflected in the pane, and he noted how pitiful the figure in the bed looked. A small, grey old man with thinning hair and furrowed cheeks, wearing a white hospital gown. As if Britta had been the one who had lent him any air of authority. She had given him a dignity that filled him. She had given his life meaning. And now it was his fault that she was gone.

His daughters had come over to see him today. Fussed over him, hugged him, stared at him with worried eyes and talked to him in concerned voices. But he hadn’t had the energy even to look at them. He was afraid they would see the guilt in his eyes. See what he had done. What he had caused.

They had kept the secret for a long time. He and Britta. Shared it, concealed it, atoned for it. That was what he’d thought, at any rate. But when she fell ill and her defences started to crumble, he’d realized in a moment of clarity that it was hopeless to try to atone for anything. Sooner or later, time and fate caught up with a person. It was impossible to hide. It was impossible to flee. They had foolishly believed that it was enough to live a good life, to be good people. To love their children and raise them so they would be capable of giving love, in turn. And finally, they had convinced themselves that the good they’d created had overshadowed the bad.

He had killed Britta. Why couldn’t they understand that? He knew that they would talk to him, ask him about things, question him. Why couldn’t they just accept the situation?

He had killed Britta. And now he had nothing left.

‘Do you have any idea who this person is? Or why Erik paid him money for all those years?’ asked Erica as they were approaching Göteborg. Maja had behaved beautifully, sitting on the back seat, and since they’d left home just before eight thirty, it was only ten o’clock by the time they drove into the city.

‘No, the only information we have is what you’ve already seen.’ Patrik nodded at the document in the plastic sleeve that Erica was holding on her lap.