The Bomber Read Online Free Page A

deaf?"
     
     
"Okay," Annika said. "Put it this way: What happens when you get an alarm call?"
     
     
"Eh… it comes here."
     
     
"To the emergency control room?"
     
     
"Yeah, where else? It's entered into our computer system and then it comes up on our screens with an action plan telling us what to do."
     
     
"So if there were an alarm call from the Olympic stadium, it would appear on your screen?"
     
     
"Eh… yeah."
     
     
"And then it says exactly what steps you should take concerning that alarm call?"
     
     
"Eh… right."
     
     
"So what has your company been doing out at the Olympic stadium tonight? I haven't seen a single one of your cars out here."
     
     
No reply from the man.
     
     
"Victoria Stadium has been blown up. We can agree on that, can't we? What's your company supposed to do if the Olympic area catches fire or is damaged in some other way?"
     
     
"It comes up on the computer," the man said.
     
     
"So what have you been doing?"
     
     
The man said nothing.
     
     
"You haven't received any alarm whatsoever from the arena, have you?" Annika said.
     
     
The man was quiet for a while before he replied.
     
     
"I can't comment on the alarm calls we don't get either."
     
     
Annika took a deep breath and smiled.
     
     
"Thank you," she said.
     
     
"You won't write any of what I've said, will you?" the man said anxiously.
     
     
"Said?" Annika said. "You haven't said a word. All you've done is refer me to your confidentiality policy."
     
     
She switched off. Yes, she had her angle now. She drew a deep breath and stared out through the windshield. One of the fire engines pulled off, but the ambulance and the doctor's car remained. The explosives experts had arrived; their vehicles were dotted around the forecourt. Men in gray overalls were lifting things out of the cars. The fire had been extinguished, so she could hardly make out any smoke.
     
     
"How were we tipped off this morning?" she asked.
     
     
"Smidig," Henriksson replied.
     
     
Every newsroom has a number of more or less professional tipsters who keep an eye on what's happening on their particular newspatch. Kvällspressen was no exception. Smidig and Leif were the best police informers; they slept with the police radio on by their beds. As soon as anything happened, big or small, they called the newspapers and told them. Other informers would pore over the records of the different legal institutions and other government authorities.
     
     
Annika, lost in thought, slowly let her eyes travel over the facility. Straight ahead lay the ten-floor building where the technical operations of the Games would be conducted. From the roof of this building was a footbridge up to the rock. Strange, who would want to walk there? She followed the footbridge with her eyes.
     
     
"Henriksson," she said, "we've got another pic to take."
     
     
She looked at her watch. Half past five. They'd make it to the press conference. "If we climb up next to the Olympic flame, at the top of the hill, we should be able to see quite a lot."
     
     
"You think so?" the photographer said, unconvinced. "They've built the walls so high no one can sneak in or see inside."
     
     
"The actual grounds are probably hidden from view, but maybe you can see the North Stand. That's what we're interested in now."
     
     
Henriksson looked at his watch.
     
     
"Do we have time? Hasn't the helicopter taken all that? Shouldn't we be watching the ambulance?"
     
     
She chewed on her lip.
     
     
"The helicopter isn't here right now. Maybe the police ordered it down. We'll ask one of the freelancers to keep an eye on the ambulance. Come on, let's go."
     
     
The rest of the journalists had discovered the ambulance, and their questions were buzzing in the air. The Rapport team had moved their OB van nearer to the canal to get a better picture of the arena. A frostbitten reporter was rehearsing his stand-up for the six o'clock bulletin. There were no police