Penelope’s legs shake. She clings to the fence surrounding the embassy and stares down at the black asphalt. She is fighting the impulse to vomit. The sight she’d seen in the men’s bathroom still vibrates before her eyes: the face blown to bits, teeth all over, blood.
The weight of the bulletproof vest seems to drag her down towards the ground. Noise around her forms a cacophony. Sirens warn of approaching ambulances. Police officers shout, even scream, at one another and into their radios. She watches medical personnel hurry over with a stretcher. It’s the man from the bathroom. Blood has soaked through the bandages covering his head.
Saga comes over to Penelope with a nurse in tow; she says that she’s worried Penelope is going into shock.
“It wasn’t him,” Penelope repeats as they wrap her in a blanket.
“A doctor will be here soon,” the nurse says soothingly. “Meanwhile do you need something to calm down? I can give you something if you’re in good health …” She hesitates. “No liver problems, for instance?”
Penelope shakes her head and the nurse gives her a blue capsule.
“Swallow it whole,” she explains. “It’s half a milligram of Xanax.”
“Xanax,” Penelope repeats dully as she looks at the capsule in her hand.
“It’s not dangerous and it’ll calm you down,” the nurse explains even as she hurries away.
“Let me get you some water,” Saga says, and goes to the police van.
Penelope’s fingers feel numb. She looks at the little blue capsule in her hand.
Joona Linna is still in the building. More people are stumbling outside. They’re smudged with soot and reek of smoke. The cluster of shocked diplomats is collecting by the fence that separates their grounds from those of the Japanese embassy. Everyone is waiting for transportation to Karolinska Hospital. A woman in a dark blue business suit sinks to the ground and weeps openly. A policeman comes up to her and puts his hand on her shoulders as he talks to her. One of the diplomats licks his lips and rubs his hands over and over with a handkerchief. An older man in a wrinkled suit is standing and talking on a mobile phone. His face is stiff. The military attaché, a middle-aged woman with hair that’s dyed red, has dried her tears and is trying to help the others, but she moves like a sleepwalker. She is asked to hold up a bag for an IV drip and she does so with no emotion at all. A man with burns on his hands has been huddled in a blanket, patiently sitting, his bandaged hands over his face. Now he gets up slowly, the blanket falling to the ground and he starts to walk quietly, almost dreamily, over the pavement towards the fence.
A military policeman holds on to a nearby flagpole. He is weeping.
The man with the burned hands walks gently in the bright morning sunshine beyond the fence. He turns the corner and heads down the right side of Gärdesgatan.
Penelope draws in a sudden breath. As if drenched in cold water, she’s jabbed with sudden insight. She’d never seen his face clearly, but she has seen his back. That man with the burned hands is her pursuer. He’s heading towards Gärdet, the large open field near the television tower. He’s heading away from the police and the ambulances. She doesn’t need to see his face; she’s seen his back when he sat on the boat beneath Skuru Sound Bridge. When Viola and Björn were still alive.
Penelope’s hand opens and the blue capsule falls to the ground.
Penelope begins to walk after him, her heart racing. She turns onto Gärdesgatan and lets the blanket fall away from her body just as he had done. She picks up speed. She starts to hurry faster as he makes his way between the trees, moving slowly. He looks tired and weak. Penelope remembers he might have been shot. That would explain it. She thinks triumphantly that he will not be able to run away from her. Some jackdaws lift from the trees and flap away. Penelope feels filled with power. She’s striding quickly over the meadow grass and sees him less than forty metres away. He’s staggering and he has to hold on to a tree trunk to stay upright. The bandages are unwinding from his fingers. She’s running now and watching him leave his cover in the small grove of trees to limp into the sunshine of the large, open field. Without pausing, Penelope reaches back for the pistol Joona Linna had so providentially secured to her back. She glances down long enough to release the safety as she goes on through the trees. She slows and aims at his leg with her arm straight out.
“Stop!” she whispers as she pulls the trigger.
The shot fires and the recoil jerks her arm and shoulder. The gunpowder burns across the back of her hand.
The bullet seems to disappear but Penelope sees him try to run faster.
You never should have touched my sister, she thinks.
The man is running along a path. He stops for a second, grabbing his arm, then he veers off across the grass.
Penelope runs into the open field and the sunshine. She’s getting closer. She crosses the pedestrian path and lifts the weapon again.
“Stop!” she yells.
She fires and she sees a furrow of grass ripped from the ground ten metres in front of the man. Penelope feels adrenaline shoot throughout her body but she’s clear-headed and focused. She aims at his leg and shoots again. She hears the bang again, feels the recoil, and sees the back of his knee punctured with debris blown around his leg from his kneecap. He screams in pain as he falls onto the grass, but he keeps trying to crawl away. She’s coming closer, striding forward while he tries to pull himself upright to lean against a birch tree.
Stop, Penelope thinks. She lifts the pistol again. You killed Viola. You drowned her and you killed Björn.
“You killed my baby sister!” she yells out loud. She shoots.
The bullet goes into his left foot and blood spatters over the grass.
As Penelope comes up to him, he slides down, completely still, his head hanging forward with his chin resting on his chest. He’s bleeding heavily and is panting like an animal.
She stops in front of him, the shadow of the birch tree covering them both. She aims the pistol again right at him.
“Why?” she asks. “Why is my sister dead? Why is …”
She falls silent, swallows, and gets on her knees to look directly into his face.
“I want you to look at me when I kill you.”
The man licks his lips and seems to try to raise his head. It’s too heavy. He can’t manage it. He’s about to lose consciousness. She aims the gun again, but she hesitates and pulls his head up with her other hand. She stares right into his face. She clenches her teeth as she sees again the tired features lit up by lightning over Kymmendö. Now she remembers every detail: his calm eyes after he killed people and the deep scar on his lip. He’s just as calm now. Penelope has hardly time to think how strange this is before he attacks. He is so very strong and unbelievably quick. He grabs her hair and pulls her towards him. There is so much power behind his move that she bangs her forehead against his chest. She cannot move fast enough to evade him when he shifts his grip to grab her wrist and wring the gun from her hand. With all her strength, Penelope pushes and kicks her way free, but he already has her gun. She looks up at him as he aims it at her and releases two quick shots.