The Bomber Read Free Page A

picking him up." The officer waved her past.
     
     
I'd damn well better not be lying, she thought.
     
     
The stairs had three equally long landings. As she reached the top, she was forced to catch her breath. The entire forecourt was full of emergency vehicles and people running around. Two of the pillars supporting the North Stand had collapsed, and smashed green stadium seats lay scattered all over the place. A TV crew had just arrived. Annika saw a reporter from another tabloid— Kvällspressen 's only serious rival on the market— and three freelance photographers. She turned her head upward and looked into the hole created by the bomb. Five helicopters were circling the area low, at least two from the media.
     
     
"Annika!" It was Johan Henriksson, the photographer from Kvällspressen, a twenty-three-year-old casual employee who had come from a local newspaper up north in Östersund. He was both talented and ambitious, two qualities of which the latter one was the more important. He came running toward her with two cameras bouncing on his chest and the camera bag dangling on his shoulder.
     
     
"What did you get?" Annika asked, pulling out her pad and pencil.
     
     
"I got here only half a minute after the fire brigade. I got an ambulance driving off with a taxi driver; he had some cuts. The fire brigade couldn't reach the stand with their hoses. They drove the engines inside the stadium. I've got pictures of the fire from the outside, but I haven't been inside the arena. A couple of minutes ago, the cops started running around like crazy. I think something's happened."
     
     
"Or they've found something," Annika said, putting away her pad. Holding her pencil like a baton, she began jogging toward where she remembered the furthermost entrance to be. If her memory didn't fail her, it was to the right, just under the collapsed stand. No one tried to stop her as she crossed the forecourt. There was too much chaos for anyone to notice. She weaved her way through chunks of concrete, twisted reinforcing rods, and green plastic seats. A stairway with four flights led up to the entry door; she was panting by the time she reached the top. The police had already cordoned off the doorway, but that didn't matter. She didn't need to see any more. The door was intact and seemed to be locked. Sticking to their routine, Swedish security companies could never refrain from putting silly little stickers on the doors of all buildings they'd been charged with guarding. Olympic stadium was no exception. Annika took out her pad again and jotted down the name and number of the company.
     
     
"Please clear the area! The building could collapse! I repeat…" A police car drove slowly across the forecourt below, the loudspeaker droning. People retreated to the training facility and the Olympic Village below. Annika trotted along the outside wall of the arena, which meant she could avoid returning to the forecourt. Instead she followed the ramp that descended gently to the left all the way along the building. There were several entrances, and she wanted to see them all. Not one of them seemed to have been damaged or forced open.
     
     
Eventually, Annika was stopped by a policeman. "Excuse me, madam, it's time to go home." The young officer put a hand on her arm.
     
     
"Who's the officer in charge?" she asked, holding up her press card.
     
     
"He's too busy to talk to you. You have to leave, we're evacuating the entire area."
     
     
Noticeably agitated, the officer started pulling her away. Annika wriggled free and stood in front of him. She chanced it: "What have you found inside the stadium?"
     
     
The policeman licked his lips. "I'm not sure, and I'm not allowed to tell you anyway."
     
     
Bingo! "Who can tell me, and when?"
     
     
"I don't know. Try the Krim duty desk. But you have to go now!"
     
     
    * * *
The police sealed off the area all the way beyond the training facility, several hundred yards from the stadium.