They arrive at Söder Hospital, snow whirling around the car in the yellow lights of the emergency exit. The police car stops behind the ambulance to give the emergency room staff space. There’s already a team in green and white waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
Klara starts to pull at the car door. She has to get out, get to George’s lifeless body.
‘Wait,’ says the police officer in the front seat. ‘You don’t want to disturb them now. Let them do their job first.’
She knows he’s right, knows it’s futile, knows the door is locked, still she can’t stop pulling on it. Can’t stop trying to prick this bubble, end this nightmare.
*
The young police officer stays with her in the waiting room even though his shift is over.
‘I can’t leave you here alone,’ he says. ‘Not after everything you’ve been through.’
She turns to him and stares into his dark eyes, at his short black beard. He looks Iranian, or Middle Eastern – she hadn’t noticed before, hadn’t noticed anything. Except George, and now nothing else matters any more.
‘Thank you,’ she says.
Then a doctor is standing in front of them, just inside the door. She’s in her fifties, dark hair in braids, looks like she hasn’t slept for a week, with dry, deep bags beneath her eyes.
‘Are you with the patient who arrived in the ambulance about half an hour ago?’ she asks, still standing in the doorway.
Klara nods, her voice no longer works. The lump in her throat feels so large nothing will ever get by it again.
‘We don’t have a name for him,’ the doctor says. ‘Do you know who he is?’
Klara nods again, but it is as if she has lost her voice and she can’t even get George’s name out.
‘George Lööw,’ the policeman says in a calm voice. ‘His name is George Lööw. How serious are his injuries?’
The doctor shakes her head slowly, as if she’s not sure she heard correctly. ‘Injuries?’ she says. ‘Doesn’t have any that I know of. He’s unconscious, definitely. But we think he’s been drugged or anaesthetized. All of his vitals are completely normal. We’ve sent him up to a hospital room and we’re waiting for him to wake up.’
*
Klara sits down on a chair beside George’s bed and looks at him. At his smooth, calm face and ruffled blonde hair which she brushes away from his cool forehead. It’s over now. She feels a relief bordering on euphoria but at the same time the new possibilities scare her. What will happen when he wakes up?
‘He gave you a good scare.’
She jumps and turns around. Bronzelius is leaning against the doorframe. Behind him, she catches a glimpse of the two uniformed police officers who showed up as soon as they moved George to this ward. Klara doesn’t know if they’re here to protect or guard them.
‘Hello,’ she says. ‘God, what a day. What a bunch of fucking days.’
Bronzelius enters the room and sits down on a chair next to her.
‘Do you have time to be here?’ she asks. ‘Don’t you have people to interview and try to figure out what the hell this is all about?’
‘We are already making the arrests,’ he says calmly. ‘Everyone in the Swedish cell you had on your computer has been arrested. We have most of the London, Brussels and Rome cells, too.’
Enormous relief washes over her. ‘Oh, God.’
‘The English found the same plans in London when they made their crackdown, so at least one courier was able to smuggle the information into Europe. It seems like they’d realized that Yassim was a traitor and the plans in Brussels were abandoned after what happened there. They were still planning to carry out the attacks in London and Rome, but in the morning instead of waiting for the evening.’
‘It’s so insane,’ Klara says. ‘It would have been a bloodbath. Oh, Jesus.’
‘Almost too much to fathom,’ Bronzelius says. ‘After Paris? So fucking awful.’
‘What happens now?’ Klara says, looking at him. ‘Where do we stand in all this?’
‘First of all,’ he begins, ‘your friend will be released.’ He sighs. ‘Unfortunately. Lord knows she made life tough for us this summer and autumn.’
‘Gabi?’ Klara says.
‘Yes,’ he says, falling silent for a while. ‘All the information we had was generated by Myriam Awad’s team, and she received it from the Russians. MUST apparently recruited Jacob Seger in Beirut, but he was a bit too independent for them.’
Klara nods and smiles. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Love is inconvenient.’
‘The real mystery is Yassim,’ Bronzelius says. ‘He’s just a few wards away from here. He’s the real reason I’m here. Felt like the natural place to start, to interview him. And I’m sure he has quite a story to tell. He was recruited by Korolov in Beirut when his family was murdered. Then he infiltrated ISIS and became a courier. He even informed the Russians about what was going to happen in Paris…’
‘Do you believe that?’ Klara says.
Bronzelius shrugs. ‘It’s the only thing that makes any sense if you consider what happened to the rest of you. It explains why the Russians were after you, right? They got Gabriella arrested so that she wouldn’t get hold of the information Jacob had. But they hadn’t reckoned on you and George. And Myriam’s wild bunch.’
‘But why didn’t they work with you?’ Klara says. ‘Why did they go their own way?’
‘You have to remember they thought Yassim was a terrorist,’ he says. ‘And best case, Jacob was naive; at worst, an accomplice. And it got out of hand. They lost control and direction. Apparently they intended to send at least Yassim to Egypt.’
He shakes his head.
‘Their spycraft looks a little different than my mediocre cop work, or whatever it is she called it. But there are still rules that even they are supposed to follow. At the same time, it’s not entirely unproblematic to storm in like we did. There will be quite a bit to untangle. But the terror attacks have been averted. People have been arrested throughout Europe. This ended up being quite a success, even if the road here was messy. Especially for you and your friends.’
‘Sorry I was so angry with you before,’ Klara says. ‘I was still furious from this summer.’
Bronzelius smiles at her. ‘No problem. I’ve been through considerably worse. And no matter how it ends up, it was good we got hold of that little cell of Myriam’s. Who knows how many people they’ve sent to be interrogated in Egypt or Yemen or God knows where? But it’s over now, I can promise you that.’
‘The rule of law has been restored,’ Klara says. ‘Who would have thought we’d do it together a couple of months ago?’
He smiles again. ‘It was goddamn good luck that you showed up,’ he says. ‘Otherwise, the Russians would have taken Jacob in Brussels and we’d be a few hours away from one of the worst terrorist attacks in European history.’
Klara turns to the bed again and sees George starting to move his head. She stands up. Bronzelius does as well.
‘You’re no longer suspects,’ he says. ‘Just so you know. The police are just here for some added security. I’ll have to interview you, so don’t leave Stockholm before I have the chance to do that, okay. But otherwise I can only say: thank you.’
‘And Yassim?’ she says.
‘Who knows?’ he says. ‘We’ll interview him too and try to figure out his story. It’s not likely that the Russians will want him back after this.’ He falls silent and looks out through the window.
‘So what will happen to him?’ Klara asks quietly.
Bronzelius shrugs and turns to her again. ‘If we can’t prove he’s committed any crime then he’ll be deported,’ he says.
Klara nods. ‘Without him, we never would have been able to do this,’ she says. ‘Don’t forget that.’
‘Life isn’t fair,’ he says.
Klara hesitates for a moment and then takes a step towards him and gives him a hug. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘For listening to me, even after all that happened this summer.’
‘Klara?’ she hears a faint voice coming from the bed. ‘Where the hell am I now?’
Bronzelius pats her on the shoulder. ‘Take care of him,’ he says. ‘Talk to you later.’
She turns around and leans down over George, kisses him on the cheek.
‘You’re with me,’ she whispers.