Two men have entered the soccer field and they’re coming towards her unhurriedly with their hands at their sides. One is dressed in a long, dark coat, bareheaded. His well-trimmed, grey hair is styled in a way that doesn’t seem to be affected by wind or snow. In the dark, Klara can just make out that he seems tan, with deep wrinkles on his forehead.
The other man, walking right behind him, is very large and wears some kind of Gore-Tex jacket, with a hat pulled low on his forehead.
He has a gun in his hand, but it’s pointed down towards the AstroTurf.
They stop about five metres from Klara without saying a word. She throws a glance over her shoulder, towards the other end of the field, and sees another man there.
She’s surrounded. It’s a trap, just as she thought, and now it’s time. Time to drive this story to its end. Her mouth is very dry, but she feels strangely focused, strangely calm. Despite the men coming towards her.
‘I know you’re waiting for someone else,’ the man in the coat says in excellent English that’s not quite free of Slavic diphthongs. ‘I apologize for the fact that we had to hack your friend’s email and be so – how shall I put this? – mysterious.’
‘Who are you?’ Klara says. ‘Where is Gabriella?’
‘Gabriella is, as far as we know, still in jail,’ he says coolly. ‘The evidence against her is apparently quite damning.’
‘What kind of evidence?’
Klara takes a slow step back when the man steps towards her.
‘This is not your fight,’ he says, holding up his hands as if to calm her. ‘You were pulled in by chance when a project of ours in Syria took an unexpected turn.’
He stops, maybe trying not to scare Klara any further.
‘Someone contacted your friend Gabriella. A person we had eyes on and who had access to sensitive information. Something we could not allow him to share. We thought it would be enough if we had our Swedish colleagues put a lasso around Gabriella so we could take care of it in Brussels. But, but… We didn’t account for you. Or that this Jacob would end up being so resourceful. Or that our man would fall in love with him. Or…’
The Russian looks slightly disappointed as he throws his arms wide.
‘Nine out of ten projects are so predictable,’ he says. ‘But the tenth? The tenth defies all description. Unfortunately, you’ve landed in the tenth.’
He starts to walk towards her again, purposefully.
‘But now it’s time to take care of all this. You have something we need. A memory card.’
‘No,’ Klara says, shaking her head. ‘I don’t have it.’
The man looks disappointed and cocks his head.
‘We are on the same side here,’ he says. ‘I give you my word that we’ll get your friend out of detention. The evidence against her could quickly prove to be thin as air. Do you understand? And if you’re worried about letting something happen, I’ll give you my word on that too. Do you think we’re beasts?’
‘I don’t know,’ Klara says, looking straight into his eyes. ‘How should I know what you’re capable of? I don’t even know who you are.’
He stares at her with such coldness that Klara almost has to look away. But only almost.
‘What do you know about making this kind of decision?’ he asks. ‘What do you know about the world, Klara Walldéen?’
She sees the man in Gore-Tex moving towards her now, something intentional in his eyes, the gun in both hands. There are a lot of things that could go wrong here. That insight goes off inside her head like a bomb. She thought she was in control, but anything can happen now. Anything at all.
Her knees start to tremble but she pushes away her growing panic.
‘You or one of your friends have the card,’ the man in the coat says. ‘It’s in everyone’s best interest to make sure we get it.’
Klara shakes her head. How long will she be able to handle this?
‘I know what’s going to happen,’ she says. ‘I’ve seen the information. I know there are supposed to be coordinated terrorist attacks tomorrow. As long as we have the information, they can’t carry them out.’
If he’s surprised Klara knows what’s on the chip, his face doesn’t show it. ‘Are you really so naive?’ the man says. ‘What you have is the information for one of the cells we managed to infiltrate. We have reason to believe there are several. And that all the cells got the same information. Terrorists don’t let a plan this carefully arranged rest on just one person’s shoulders. Surely you understand that?’
‘Did you know about Paris, too?’ she says without looking away.
He stares at her with those colourless eyes. ‘You don’t understand what this is about,’ he continues. ‘You don’t know what’s at stake. We have spent years analyzing ISIS, their leadership, how they communicate. Do you think we’d let the biggest terrorist attack since September 11 be ruined by a couple of self-righteous Swedish women? Do you seriously think you can stop the wave of history?’
But Klara can see he’s self-conscious after her mention of Paris, and no longer calm. He considers her beneath his dignity. This whole fiasco, a bunch of gays and women, all beneath his dignity. He nods to the man in Gore-Tex, who takes a step towards Klara and raises the gun.
‘You and your friends are completely alone,’ the man says. ‘The Swedish police think you’re working with a terrorist, which you are. You have nowhere else to go. Not you, not Gabriella, and not your friends. All you have is me.’
‘And what can you do?’ Klara whispers.
She’s backed all the way up to the fence now. There’s no way out.
‘You can cooperate, and I’ll explain to my friends in the Swedish intelligence service that there’s been a big mistake,’ he says. ‘Or I could kill you here. And then hunt down your friends one by one. Your choice.’
The man in Gore-Tex takes one more step forward, pushes the cold gun against her head. The world freezes around her. How could she have been so stupid? How could it all go so wrong?
‘No,’ she whispers. ‘Please.’
Then a shot rings out, and the world flashes to white.