It’s still dark when Klara exits the Rådhuset subway station on Kungsholmen. She’s freezing in the frosty morning air and clutches the coffees she bought at Pressbyrån tightly in both hands. She takes a right on Bergsgatan, towards the police station and Kronoberg jail.
It’s strange that she’s not more tired – she only slept for an hour, curled up in the hospital bed next to George. A nurse offered to let her sleep in another room, but leaving George felt impossible. They lay with their faces so close their noses touched, so close that their lips almost touched, and George told her everything that happened to him, Jacob and Yassim.
‘But why did they drug you?’ she asked. ‘The other two were conscious.’
‘I didn’t have anything they needed,’ George replied. ‘I think I was just ballast for them. I don’t remember anything from that hangar you’re talking about. Perhaps they didn’t want me to know what they were doing with Yassim and Jacob. To avoid any witnesses.’
Now she’s sitting on a bench just outside the entrance of the detention centre and taking small sips of her coffee. A few snowflakes float down into the white light of the lamps near the gates and behind her she can hear the noise of the city’s morning traffic. It’s just a minute after eight when the gates of the jail open from inside.
Gabriella looks the same, though her curly red hair is bigger and wilder than usual, and she has no make-up on, which is unusual for her. When she sees Klara she stops and slings open her arms, a smile spreading on her lips. Klara gets up and walks toward her. They hug each other without saying anything at first. Then Klara pushes her best friend away from her and looks into her eyes.
‘I can’t believe it’s only been four days,’ she whispers. ‘So much has happened.’
Gabriella laughs and shakes her head. ‘Has it?’ she says. ‘As far as I’m concerned the world stood still.’
Klara passes her the coffee. Gabriella takes a sip and groans with satisfaction as they slowly walk down towards Norr Mälarstrand. Klara starts to tell her everything, and Gabriella just stares at her with increasingly wide eyes.
‘This is insane,’ she says. ‘I can barely take it in.’
‘Me neither,’ Klara says. ‘I still don’t understand why they arrested you. On what grounds?’
‘First they told me it was the conversation with Jacob, as you call him. They had information that was super top secret that pointed to him being a terrorist or collaborating with terrorists. Like you said.’
‘Myriam and her gang,’ Klara says. ‘Yes, that much I understood. But it was enough?’
‘They confiscated my computer and phone, of course, claimed there was a bunch of communication between me and Jacob via email. That we had decided I would help him smuggle this into Sweden along with two other people.’
‘What?’ Klara says. ‘But…’
‘Yes, completely fabricated of course. That was clear from the start. Not even the Swedish in the messages was correct; I realized when I finally saw them. Some Russian wrote fake messages between my address and a fake Gmail account. The whole thing was surreal. Seeing things sent from your own account that you absolutely did not write or know were there. And the judge yesterday just heard the word “terrorism” and that was enough for him – he granted the detention and didn’t listen at all to what we said about hacking or whatever. But then the prosecutor cancelled the detention last night, just a few hours afterwards, after you revealed what was up.’
Klara shivers. ‘So disgusting,’ she says. ‘They hacked your secret Gmail account as well, the one we used before. But I figured out it wasn’t you. Do you want to know how?’
Gabriella nods.
‘What is Camp Nou?’
‘The soccer field in Bergort?’ Gabriella replies without a moment’s hesitation.
Klara nods. ‘Exactly.’
Gabriella throws her empty coffee cup into a trashcan and walks to the quay, right down to the water. She turns to Klara. ‘Thank you,’ she says steadily. ‘For not giving up on me.’
They continue towards the city while the sun rises slowly, and the world goes from black to a gentle grey; the sky is the same colour as the water next to them, the same colour as the dock and the cars. Klara clears her throat.
‘But it doesn’t end there,’ she says carefully. ‘There’s one more thing.’
She tells her about George. About how something has taken root in her, something she didn’t even think she could feel any more. Something arrived so suddenly that she didn’t realize it and now it won’t leave her for a second.
Klara feels her cheeks turning hot.
‘You’re blushing!’ Gabriella laughs. ‘Well, I’m not surprised. You were already babbling about him on our way to Stockholm. But who would have thought it would blow up in the middle of all this too?’
They stop and look out at the island of Söder towering up on the other side of the water, where Gabi’s apartment is located.
‘I like your neighbour,’ Klara says. ‘She’s quite a woman.’
Gabi laughs. ‘Maria? Yes, she’s fabulous. I can’t believe she gave you Rohypnol.’ Then Gabi turns to her. ‘You don’t know how happy I am about this thing with George,’ she says. ‘It’s time for you to move forward. Finally.’
Klara faces the water, watching as the sky turns pink in those first rays of the sun.
‘Yes,’ she says steadily. ‘At some point you have to start living again.’