Grendel's Game (40 page)

Haeggman's story was based on interviews with the Halmstad police. Gunnel Iversen was quoted, as well as unnamed “police sources.” Ekman himself “could not be reached for comment.” There were a few initial words of false sympathy for Ekman and his family. His request for an immediate search for his son was underscored, and readers looking for more information were referred to yesterday's story about the hunt for Carl Stillen. The implication was that Ekman's bungling had now led to his own son's kidnapping and possible murder.

He was made to seem worse than just an inept police officer. His evident stupidity had made him a dangerous risk not only to his own family, but to the public. The article was effectively a call for him to be replaced.

Maybe the bastard is right, Ekman thought. Maybe I am incompetent and should just resign. But not yet. Not until I find Grendel.

At seven forty-five, Holm knocked and put his head around the door. “The commissioner would like to see you right away.”

Ekman was surprised. Norlander was never in the office before nine.

“I may be late for the eight o'clock. I'll be down as soon as I can. No doubt Norlander has been reading this trash, too,” he said, pointing at the paper on his desk.

Norlander was standing, talking with Garth Rystrom, when Ekman knocked and entered. They both stopped speaking and turned to face him. Norlander came forward with his hand extended.

“Walther, Garth and I were just saying how horrified we were to learn what happened yesterday. Words seem meaningless. Please know that our thoughts are with you and your family.”

Rystrom didn't say anything. He just went up to Ekman and, looking into his anguished eyes and tight-lipped face, clasped his hand in both of his.

“Let's sit down,” said Norlander, leading the way to the seating area. He took an armchair, while they sat together on the leather couch.

“Walther, what I have to say has nothing to do with the articles in
Sydsvenska Nyheter
. Please believe that. But yesterday's events have to change the way the Grendel investigation is conducted. I've spoken with Superintendent Iversen and she agrees that your son's disappearance is part of our original investigation.

“You're too emotionally involved now to continue to lead, or participate, in the case. This is the time for you to be with your family. They need you. I've asked Garth to take over the investigation and he's kindly consented, even though I know he's longing to get back to his family in Stockholm.” Norlander looked at the expressionless Rystrom as he said this.

Ekman had been expecting something like this. When an officer became personally involved in a case, it was standard procedure to relieve him. But he resented it anyway. It would look to the outside world as if Haeggman were right and he'd been removed for incompetence. It was hard to bear.

“I understand, Commissioner.” He turned to Rystrom. “And you've picked the best possible man to head the team. I'd like to meet briefly with them . . . they're waiting for us now . . . to explain the change.”

“Certainly, Walther. Starting right after that, I want you to take thirty days of administrative leave . . . more if you need it . . . so you can help your family through this awful time.”

Ekman appreciated Norlander's doing this, but couldn't help feeling anyway that he was being diplomatically shunted aside.

“Thank you, Commissioner. I appreciate your consideration,” he said with effort, accepting the inevitable.

Norlander rose and walked with them to the door. “Oh, Walther. Olov asked that you see him.”

Outside, Ekman said, “Garth, this won't take long, and then we'll get to the meeting.”

Ekman went down the hall, knocked on Malmer's door, and went in.

“You wanted to see me?” The bastard wants to give me paperwork to fill out for this leave, he thought.

To his astonishment, Malmer got up and came around his desk toward him. He stood in front of Ekman, and looking up at his face, took his hand.

“Walther, I know we haven't gotten along well, but this goes far beyond any differences we've had. I just want to tell you how profoundly sorry I am for your terrible loss. I have a son, too, and if anything happened to him, I don't know what I'd do . . . Be brave. I'll be praying for you and your family.”

Ekman was speechless. He just looked down at Malmer, amazed. My God, he thought, he's a real human being after all. I didn't even know he had a son. I've misjudged him.

“Thank you, Olov,” he finally got out.

“Don't think about the paperwork. I'll take care of everything,” Malmer said. “Just go home.”

Ekman nodded and went out. Sometimes, he thought, people can totally surprise you. I've become too damned sure I'm always right about them.

When Ekman and Rystrom came into the conference room, the others were seated, waiting for them. Rystrom sat down, and Ekman took his usual place at the head of the table.

Before he could say anything, Holm stood up.

“Chief, the others have asked me to speak for them, as well as myself. What has happened is horrible. We want you to know how much we all feel for you and your family. We'll never rest until Grendel is found. None of us will take a day off until we bring him in. This is our personal commitment to you.” He sat down.

“Thank you, Enar, and thank all of you, everyone,” Ekman said, his lips trembling. He was overcome by emotion and couldn't say any more for a long moment.

“This is my last meeting with you. Because I've now become personally involved, I mustn't be part of the investigation. The commissioner has asked Garth Rystrom to take over. I know each of you will do your best for him, as you have for me.”

Turning to Rystrom, he said, “My only suggestion is that since it's now clear how focused on me the case has become, there may be a motive buried in my old cases. Enar, I know you already did this, but I think the others should also take a look at them. I'm going on leave and won't be back for at least a month. Good luck to each of you.”

He got up and went around the table; silently shaking hands with Holm first, he held onto his hand, looking him in the eyes, and then did the same with each of the others. When he got to Gerdi Vinter, she reached up and gave him a long hug. There were tears streaming down her cheeks, which she didn't bother to brush away.

Ekman had spent an hour clearing out his in-box. Now he looked around his office for a last time before putting on his hat and coat and taking the elevator to the garage. He felt that a chapter of his life had closed forever. There was a hollowness inside him where Erick had been that was filled with grief at his unalterable absence. And there was a deepening rage at the person who had taken Erick away.

71

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T
he snow had gotten much heavier by the time he got home and was forecast to get worse. The silence in the house was oppressive. He couldn't sit down and paced from room to room. I've got to get hold of myself, he thought, or I'll be useless to Ingbritt and everyone else. They're counting on me to bear up. He reached for the phone and called her.

“Yes, I'm home now for a good month. How long will you be with Disa? I understand. This storm is supposed to clear out by tomorrow. I want to come down and be with you. There's no point in my being here. I'll close up the house and we'll stay with her as long as she needs us. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow morning. I love you, too.”

He'd slapped some cheese on a piece of bread for lunch and had just finished it when the doorbell rang. Who the hell can that be in this weather? he thought. A package delivery, perhaps? Maybe Ingbritt ordered something.

He went to the front door, and opening it, was astonished to see Froken Sundquist from Edvardsson's office. The snow-laden wind was whipping around her, blowing her long brown hair about her face.

She brushed the hair away and said, “Herr Ekman, Fru Edvardsson wants to see you right away. She heard that you were at home. Because the weather is so bad, and she knew I have a four-wheel drive, she asked me to come and get you.” Backed into the driveway was a white van facing the street.

Ekman wondered what on earth Malin was thinking. Perhaps she felt the need to offer her condolences personally, or maybe it was something about the case she wanted to talk about.

“Please come in, Froken Sundquist. I appreciate your coming to get me, but it really wasn't necessary. I could have managed.” He closed the door behind her.

“I'll just get my coat and hat,” he said, turning his back on her, and going to the hall closet to get his suit jacket and overcoat.

When he'd put them on, he turned around, and stared with bewilderment at the pistol in her hand aimed at him.

“Surprise, surprise,” she said with a crooked smile.

He immediately understood. “You're Grendel's accomplice. You delivered the briefcase. And you're the source of the leaks.”

“You've finally figured it out. You've been rather slow. It's been a bit of a disappointment.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Why, I'm going to take you to see your son, of course. But first you're going to reach very slowly into your jacket, and with your thumb and forefinger take out your gun and give it to me. If you try anything, I'll shoot you right here. Then you won't discover what this is all about, or see your son. And your wife will come home to find you dead in the hall. We don't want her to get a nasty shock like that, do we?”

Ekman believed her. She'd said exactly the things that persuaded him not to simply lunge at her. He reached into his jacket, carefully with two fingers took out his gun from the holster on his belt, and dropped it into her outstretched hand. She slipped it into her coat pocket.

“That was smart. Now take out your mobile and give it to me.”

Ekman took it out and held it out to her. She pocketed it, and backed away from him.

“Good. I think we're ready to begin our little journey. Open the door and go ahead of me.”

Ekman did as she wanted, and when they were outside, with a blustery wind swirling the snow around them, saw her shut the door.

“Go to the van. You'll ride in the back,” she said activating the van's sliding side door with a remote.

Ekman got in the back of the van and sat on the bench seat as she closed the door with the remote. Looking around, he saw the van had been customized. There were no inside door handles, side or rear windows, only metal walls. Between the rear bench and the front seats was a heavy steel grille running from roof to floor and riveted to the side walls. He was in a prison.

A
block away, Holm watched through binoculars as the van slowly pulled into the street. He and Vinter had been sitting there in an unmarked car since Ekman came home.

At that morning's meeting, Rystrom had followed Ekman's suggestion and assigned the others to a page-by-page search through Ekman's old cases, going back twenty years. Then he'd asked Holm and Vinter to stay behind.

“The pace of abductions has speeded up and become increasingly personal. With his son's disappearance, the killer's focus now has to be on Ekman himself. I think he's in real danger. I want the two of you to stake out his house. Be very careful. He mustn't see you. We're going to keep a twenty-four-hour watch on him.”

Vinter protested, “Shouldn't we get him to a safe house instead? Forgive me for saying it, Super, but if he's in such danger, it feels like we're using him as bait for Grendel.”

Rystrom's expression had become fixed as he stared at her. “Walther Ekman is an old and dear friend. How can you think I would do such a thing? Listen to me, knowing him, he would never agree to go into hiding, especially from someone who has no doubt just killed his son. That's not the man I know. And he also would never agree to be kept under constant surveillance. So all we can do is quietly protect him. That's your assignment. After six hours, you'll be relieved and two of the others will take over.”