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down to the bottom. He gripped its hard covers, thrust it into his shirt pocket and handed the bag to the stewardess.
    The instructions once he was in Sweden were crystal clear. On no account was he to ask for asylum while he was still at the airport. Nor was he to leave his documentation behind or hand it over to the escort on the plane before he got off. The passport contained a visa that said he was a business traveller from one of the Gulf States and entitled to enter the country. The fact that he spoke no English should not be a problem.
    The plane taxied in, gliding surprisingly softly over the hard, frost-covered tarmac, and approached Gate 37 where the passengers were to disembark.
    ‘What happens if I fail?’ Ali had asked his contact in Damascus who had first made him the offer.
    ‘Don’t worry so much,’ the contact replied with a thin-lipped smile.
    ‘I’ve got to know,’ said Ali. ‘What happens if I fail in any of these tasks I’ve got to do? I’ve spoken to other people going to the same place. This isn’t the way it usually happens.’
    The contact’s look had darkened.
    ‘I thought you were grateful, Ali.’
    ‘Oh I am,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s just that I wonder . . .’
    ‘Stop wondering so much,’ the contact broke in. ‘And you are not, under any circumstances, to say anything about this to anyone else. Not ever. You’ve got to focus on just one thing, and that’s getting into this country the way we’ve arranged, and then you must carry out the task we shall be giving you. After that you can be reunited with your family. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’
    ‘More than anything else.’
    ‘Good, so worry less and focus more. If you don’t, the risk is that you could be more unhappy than you have ever been in your life.’
    ‘I can’t be any more unhappy than I am now,’ whispered Ali, head bowed.
    ‘Oh yes you can,’ answered his contact in a voice so cold that Ali stopped breathing from sheer terror. ‘Imagine if you lost your whole family, Ali. Or they lost you. Being alone is the only true unhappiness. Remember that, for your family’s sake.’
    Ali closed his eyes and knew he would never forget. He recognised a threat when he heard one.
    As he went through passport control ten minutes later and knew he had got into the country, the thought came back to him again. From this point on, there was only one way forward: the path taking him away from the life he was now even more certain he had left behind him for ever.

WEDNESDAY 27 FEBRUARY 2008

STOCKHOLM
    The home-made croissants on offer in the Criminal Investigation Department staff room looked like something else entirely. Peder Rydh took two at once and grinned as he nudged his new colleague Joar Sahlin, who gave him a blank look and made do with one.
    ‘Cocks,’ clarified Peder in a word, holding up one of the croissants.
    ‘Pardon?’ said his colleague, looking him straight in the eye.
    Peder stuffed half a croissant into his mouth and answered as he was chewing it.
    ‘They look like limp prickth.’
    Then he sat himself down beside the female police probationer who had started work on the same floor a few weeks earlier.
    It had been a tough autumn and winter for Peder. He had celebrated his twin sons’ first birthday by leaving their mother, and since then he had screwed up pretty much everything else as well. Not at work, but privately. The woman who had wanted to be his girlfriend, Pia Nordh, suddenly turned her back on him, saying she had found someone else.
    ‘It’s the real thing this time, Peder,’ she had said. ‘I don’t want to sabotage anything that feels so right.’
    Peder gave a snort and wondered how serious it could really be for a good lay like Pia Nordh, but had the sense not to voice his opinion out loud. Not just then, anyway.
    The really frustrating thing after Pia dumped him was that it had been so hard to find any new talent for a bit of fun. Until now. The probationer