Saga Bauer comes up behind Joona and Johan as they read the e-mail through again.
“Find something?” she asks.
The men nod and keep reading.
“Let’s see the next,” Joona says, and Johan eagerly clicks on another e-mail from skunk@hotmail.com. They read it through twice, and repeat the routine one last time as Saga tries to read over Joona’s shoulder.
“So you can see,” says Joona at last, “on the second of June, Carl Palmcrona received a blackmail letter sent by Björn Almskog from an anonymous e-mail address.”
“So that’s what this is about: blackmail,” Saga says.
“But I’m not sure that’s the whole story,” Joona replies.
He then reports what he has found out about Carl Palmcrona’s final days.
On 2 June, Palmcrona and Gerald James of the Technical-Scientific Advisory Committee had gone to the munitions factory of Silencia Defense in Trollhättan. That morning, he’d received an e-mail from Björn Almskog, but had probably not read it until evening, because he did not reply until six twenty-five. In his reply, Palmcrona warns the extortionist of terrible consequences.
At lunchtime the next day, not having heard back from Björn, Palmcrona sends a second e-mail to Björn, this time saying that he’s resigned to the consequences he’d warned of earlier. It was at that point that he’d probably attached the noose to the ceiling lamp and had asked his housekeeper to leave him in peace. Once she’d gone, he’d turned on the music, walked into the smaller salon, placed his briefcase on end, climbed onto it to put the noose around his neck, and then kicked the briefcase away.
It was after Palmcrona’s death that Björn’s second e-mail arrived in Palmcrona’s in-box, and the day after that, a final e-mail.
Joona sets the five e-mails in sequence on the table, so that he and Saga can read through the entire correspondence.
The first e-mail from Björn Almskog is dated Wednesday, 2 June, at 11:37 a.m.:
Dear Mr Palmcrona
I am writing to inform you that I’ve come into possession of an awkward original photograph. It shows you sitting in a private box and drinking champagne with Raphael Guidi. Since I understand that this photograph could bring trouble to you, I am willing to sell it to you for the sum of one million crowns. As soon as you place the money in transit account 837-9 222701730, the photograph will be sent to your home address and all correspondence will be deleted.
Greetings from a “skunk”
The reply from Carl Palmcrona is dated Wednesday, 2 June, at 6:25 p.m.:
I do not know who you are, but I do know you have no idea what you are getting yourself into. You must have absolutely no clue.
I warn you, therefore, that this is a very serious matter and I ask that you send me this photograph before it is too late.
On Thursday, 3 June, at 2:02 p.m., clearly not having heard from Björn, Palmcrona sends a second reply:
It is already too late. We are both dead men.
Björn sends a response to that two hours later:
All right, I’ll do as you ask.
And Björn Almskog sends a third e-mail the following day, Friday, 4 June, at 7:44 a.m.:
Dear Mr Palmcrona
I’ve sent the photograph. Forget I even tried to contact you.
Greetings from a “skunk”
After reading through the e-mails twice, Saga looks up at Joona.
“So Björn Almskog wants to sell a compromising photograph to Palmcrona. It’s obvious that Palmcrona believes him but also that the photograph is much more dangerous than Björn imagined. Palmcrona warns Björn that he’s not going to hand over any money and even seems to believe the mere existence of this photograph threatens both their lives.”
“So what do you think happened next?” asks Joona.
“Palmcrona waits for an answer by e-mail or by regular post,” Saga says. “When there’s no reply, he sends his second message warning that they will both die.”
“And then Palmcrona hangs himself,” says Joona.
“When Björn shows up at the internet café and reads Palmcrona’s second e-mail—‘It is already too late. We are both dead men’—he gets scared and replies he’ll do just what Palmcrona asked.”
“Without knowing that Palmcrona is already dead.”
“Right,” Saga says. “It is already too late and anything Björn can do now will be in vain.”
“He seems to panic after receiving Palmcrona’s second e-mail. He gives up any idea of blackmail and now just wants to get out.”
“But the problem is, the photograph in question is taped to Penelope’s door.”
“So he doesn’t have a chance to get at it until she leaves for the TV studio,” Joona continues. “He waits outside, watches Penelope leave in a taxi, rushes in, sees the little girl on the stairs, gets into the apartment, rips the photo from the glass door, takes the underground, posts the photo to Palmcrona, and then sends Palmcrona an e-mail. Then he goes to his apartment on Pontonjärgatan 47, packs for the boat trip, takes the bus to Södermalm, and hurries to his boat anchored at Långholmen Harbour.”
“So what makes you think that this is bigger than common blackmail?”
“Because Björn’s apartment was completely destroyed by a fire barely four hours after he’d left it,” Joona replies.
“I’ve stopped believing in coincidences when it comes to this investigation,” Saga says.
“Me, too,” Joona says with a grin.
They look at the correspondence again and Joona points at Palmcrona’s two e-mails.
“He must have contacted someone between his first and second e-mail,” he says.
“The first is a warning,” Saga says. “The second one says it’s already too late and they’re going to die.”
“I believe that Palmcrona called someone for advice when he received the blackmail letter. He was scared to death, but he was hoping to get help,” Joona says. “Only when he realises that there’s no help to be had does he write the second e-mail where he tells Björn that they will both die.”
“We’ll have to put someone on his telephone lists,” Saga says.
“Erixson’s already on it.”
“What else?”
“Who’s the person mentioned in Björn’s first e-mail?” Joona says.
“Raphael Guidi?”
“Do you know about him?”
“He was named after the archangel Raphael,” Saga says. “He’s an Italian businessman who deals in weapons contracts for the Middle East and Africa.”
“Weapons contracts,” Joona repeats.
“Raphael has been in the business for thirty years and he’s built a private empire. There have been rumours, of course, but never anything concrete. Interpol’s looked but never found anything on him.”
“Would it be unusual to find Palmcrona in Raphael’s company?”
“Not at all,” she replies. “It’s part of his job. But toasting something in champagne? I don’t know.”
“But you wouldn’t kill someone, murder someone, because of that,” Joona says.
“No.”
“That photograph must reveal something else, something much more dangerous.”
“If Björn posted it, it must have arrived here, in the apartment,” Saga says.
“I looked through the post in his in-tray but—” Joona cuts himself off mid-sentence. Saga gives him a look.
“So, what is it? What are you thinking?”
“There are only personal letters in the tray. No ads. No bills,” he says. “The post had already been sorted when it arrived here.”