To the Top of the Mountain Read Free Page A

was entirely innocent.
    ‘Are you serious?’ he asked, half serious himself.
    ‘Yes. Yes, I am, I really am. Why’s the violence getting worse?’
    He sighed. ‘Well, at least now we’ve been able to see it up close. For just over six months. The grey, everyday violence in the city. It doesn’t exactly do much to encourage your philanthropic tendencies. Are you back for good now, Kerstin?’
    ‘I was on loan. You know what it’s like with footballers who’re on loan, there’s something wrong with them. Now I’m not on loan any more.’
    ‘For good, though? How was being home in Gothenburg?’
    ‘This is home now, that much I’ve figured out. That’s probably all, though.’
    ‘But life is OK?’
    ‘Exactly. OK. No more, no less. Under control. Could wish for a little more . . .’
    ‘Sure, same here. I think I’m beginning to have a little midlife crisis. Is this all there is? Isn’t there more to it? You know.’
    ‘I think so.’
    ‘You’ve just got to make the best of the situation. We’re back together again, and now we’re going to smoothly wrap up what the media are already calling the Kvarnen Killing. Right?’
    Kerstin Holm chuckled slightly and slipped a sachet of snus tobacco under her upper lip.
    ‘What’s this, then?’ said Hjelm, pointing.
    ‘A fresh start,’ said Kerstin Holm without batting an eyelid. She changed to another subject, one from the past. ‘How are the others? I’ve kept in touch with Gunnar the whole time, things are going well for him.’
    ‘Yeah. Ah yes, our friend Gunnar Nyberg . . . He was the only one who stayed with national CID, actually. A reward for refusing to take part in the final phase of the hunt for the Kentucky Killer. He ended up in the middle of the paedophile busts. The so-called Paedo University.’
    ‘I can just see him,’ Kerstin Holm smiled, leafing through her little notepad. ‘He’s just re-established contact with his kids and his one-year-old grandchild, and then he finds himself thrown head first into the world of Internet paedophiles. Like a steamroller.’
    ‘You’re right there.’
    An image emerged in both their minds, doubtless almost identical. A snorting giant with a bandage around his head, hunting paedophiles with a blowtorch.
    ‘Yep,’ said Hjelm gloomily, ‘the rest of us got our little punishments. Bad blood always comes back round.’
    ‘We should never say that again.’
    ‘You’re right, never again.’
    ‘And the others?’
    ‘I haven’t had that much contact with them since the A-Unit split. I ended up on that God-awful loan to the local police. “Gunnar Löv’s telephone.” Punishment. Deep down, I think they held me responsible for the cock-up with the Kentucky Killer, but Jan-Olov was the scapegoat.’
    ‘Have you heard from him?’
    ‘No, he just disappeared. Involuntary retirement. Retired Detective Superintendent Jan-Olov Hultin. I think he even stopped playing football. That’s the end of the saga of Wooden Leg Hultin. Söderstedt and Norlander ended up with local CID’s violent crimes squad, and Chavez has been doing more training.’
    ‘At the Police College?’
    ‘Yep. Career plans rumbling on. Are there still superintendent courses? It’s something like that he’s doing if there are.’
    ‘There you go. And our room? The “Supreme Command Centre”?’
    ‘I think they’ve got admin staff in there now.’
    They sat in silence for a while, observing one another. All they had experienced together . . . For a short moment, their hands met, pressing together. That was enough. A lot of work lay ahead of them. Kerstin Holm glanced through her notepad, Paul Hjelm leafed through the mediocre notes from the brief interrogations carried out by the night staff. Together, they looked at the little sketch of the Kvarnen bar.
    ‘They’re waiting out there,’ Kerstin said, sighing.
    ‘Yeah, yeah. The next man to be held to account,’ said Paul, also sighing.

2
    SKY.
    How long had it been