DARKNESS HAS RETURNED to Pasila, and the yellow lights of the construction site once again dominate the view from the window. Nina and Mikael walk up on either side of Rasmus as he wraps up a phone call.
“What is it now?” he asks, lowering his phone to his desk.
“Karlstedt and Lehtinen. Do they have an alibi for Haltiala?”
“Do we have a more accurate time of death?”
“No, but the text was ignited just a little while ago. There were several sightings between seven fifteen and seven thirty p.m.”
“Both of them were at home.” Rasmus clicks his mouse. Nina can’t make heads or tails of the view that opens; as best she can make out, it’s some sort of software that makes it possible to monitor, listen in on, and archive the calls of phones under surveillance. Rasmus continues: “But they just had an interesting conversation.”
“Play it.” Mikael pulls a free chair over and sits. Nina looks around but is forced to settle for standing.
Rasmus selects a call from the list. “This is it.”
Outgoing number +3584002512585
Time of call 19:15:23
(dialing)
TORSTEN KARLSTEDT (TK): Hey.
KAI LEHTINEN (KL): Hi.
(several seconds of silence)
TK: Hello?
KL: Hello?
(another lengthy pause)
TK: Is there anyone there?
(silence)
KL: Doesn’t seem like it.
(soft chuckling)
TK: There’s someone there. That’s for sure.
KL: Let’s talk soon. Everything’s fine. And beautiful.
(call ends)
“What the hell was that? Couldn’t they hear each other?” Nina says.
“They weren’t talking to each other, Nina,” Rasmus says.
Once she grasps his meaning, Nina feels like an idiot. “They . . . they were talking to us,” she whispers.
“Exactly.”
“This is a bunch of fucking shit,” Mikael barks, then spits his gum into his fist. “We need to bring in those assholes right away.”
“I’m starting to agree, but . . . ,” Rasmus says, but Mikael has already sprung out of his chair and is marching toward Erne’s office, Nina on his heels.
“Wait, Micke. Don’t get so worked up—”
“Erne,” Mikael says as he pushes open his superior’s door. Erne is on the other side, pulling on his coat, and the door nearly clocks him in the forehead. Nina remains in the corridor, outside the open doorway.
Erne zips up his coat. “It’s polite to knock first, Micke.”
“Karlstedt and Lehtinen. They know we’re listening. They were fucking with us on the phone.”
Erne looks at Mikael. “Was there a confession to be read between the lines of this fucking with us? Or anything else that would connect them to the murders?”
“Come on, you don’t expect those assholes to confess—”
Erne slams his heavy fist into the door so hard that both Mikael and Nina jump. “What the hell is wrong with you, Micke? I’m in charge of this investigation. Do I have to send you all home to brush up on the concept of chain of command?”
Mikael’s voice is quieter but still defiant: “Is that why Jessica is at home? Doing homework?”
“If you have a problem with how things are run here, you can fuck off from this unit. There are plenty of people waiting to take your place.” Now Erne steps closer to Mikael. As Nina lowers her gaze to the floor, she catches a glimpse of Erne’s flashing eyes: there’s not a hint of weakness on the sick man’s face. Not at this instant.
“On what grounds? Because I think with my own brain?” Mikael says.
Erne stares at him for a long time, then shifts his gaze to Nina and eventually produces a weary, joyless smile. “Do you little lovebirds think I’m an idiot? The only reason you two haven’t been separated from each other is that I happen to be an eternal romantic with an antipathy for bureaucrats. But so help me God, don’t test your luck.”
Erne steps past them into the corridor. Nina feels her cheeks blaze bright red. She looks at Mikael, who grunts in exhaustion.