Bad Blood: A Crime Novel Read Online Free

necessary.”
    “Säpo?” said Söderstedt.
    Söderstedt was eager to bring up Säpo, the Security Police. The line between the unit’s jurisdiction and Säpo’s was incredibly narrow, which meant that there were frequent overlaps, violations of taboos, and conflicts. The way Säpo had horribly sabotaged the investigation in the Power Murders was fresh in everyone’s mind.
    “They’ll probably be there,” Hultin nodded with a sigh. “But since they never tell us much, we’ll act as though they
weren’t
there. Anyway, as you know, there’s only one exit out of the arrivals hall, which divides into two parts like a T via the customs area, just inside the main entrance. We need one man on either side just outside: Gunnar, Jorge. Paul and I will try to look like nonpolice somewhere near the baggage claim, to get an overview of the arrivals hall itself. This means that there will be something of a four-phase control: first the gate, Arto with the other men; passport control, Kerstin and Viggo; the arrivals hall, Paul and me; and finally the exit, Gunnar and Jorge. Is this clear?”
    “The placement is crystal clear,” said Hjelm. “The question is how it will survive confrontation by hundreds of hung-over, jet-lagged passengers.”
    Hultin let this remark pass without comment. “All of it depends, then, on our being able to move quickly from Plan A to Plan B. If we get the name our man is flying under from the United States
before
the passengers get to passport control, then
that’s
where we have to focus our attention, and then we have to take him on the spot. Is that clear? That’s Plan A. But if he’s changed identities in the plane, or if we’re not told his name, then the responsibility that Viggo and Kerstin have in the booths increases radically. That’s Plan B. As it is now, Plan B is in effect. But we haven’t the slightest idea yet who the fuck he is. Right now it’s … seven thirty-four, and at any moment”—his cell phone rang with a silly Mickey Mouse ringtone, which Hultin suppressed with a swift grab—“Right. Special Agent Larner will call.”
    He answered the phone and turned away. The E4 ran on through exhaust-fertilized fields that were dotted here and there with a bravely struggling tractor. It was a crystal-clear late summer day, shot through with indescribable sparks that portended fall.
Summer is over
, Hjelm thought balefully.
Autumn over Sweden
. His inner voice trembled forlornly.
    An exceedingly misshapen complex of buildings towered in the distance, beyond the fields.
    “Arlandastad, right?” Kerstin Holm shouted.
    “Unmistakably!” Arto Söderstedt shouted back.
    “About five minutes left,” said Gunnar Nyberg.
    “But why?” Hultin’s jaw suddenly dropped. Then he listened for another moment and ended the call.
    “No,” he said, “they aren’t having any success in getting the name. It seems the killer canceled the flight in the murdered Swede’s name, then immediately booked the empty seat in a fake name. So that’s the name we’ll have to go on, and I don’t get why it’s taking such a fucking long time to find who booked that last ticket. Plan B is in effect until further notice.”
    The helicopter turned away from the E4 and swung over the forests of Arlanda. They landed at Arlanda International twenty-four minutes before flight SK 904 from Newark was due, and five minutes later all members of the A-Unit had settled into position.
    Chavez stationed himself inside the doors of the main entrance. Having plowed his way through a crowd of soon-to-be and former tourists, who were not yet particularly repellent, he found a bench next to a Coke machine where he had a good view of his entire area of responsibility: the far half of the exit from the customs hall. He turned on his eagle eye. His level of ambition was, as usual, just above the maximum setting.
    Some thirty seconds later Gunnar Nyberg arrived, a bit depleted by the helicopter ride. He sat down at