Unseen Read Free Page B

he thought as he barked out orders. He moved down the top story on the priority list for the broadcast. Who cared about the finances of the Academic Hospital now?
    Johan outlined what he knew to a female colleague, who hastily put together a script for the anchorman based on the existing information. She also prepared a telephone interview with the duty officer at the Visby police department, who was able to confirm that a woman had been found dead and that the police suspected murder.
    It took only a few minutes before all the editors from the largest news programs at the state-owned TV station were swarming around the desk in the Regional News office.
    “Why are you sending a reporter to Gotland? Is there something special about this murder?” asked the managing editor from the central desk.
    Like the others, he had read only the wire report, but he had already heard that Regional News was sending a team to Gotland. Four pairs of eyes were staring inquisitively at Grenfors, who realized he had to tell them that the woman had been viciously attacked, probably with an axe, and that her panties had been stuffed in her mouth.
    Since it was a slow news day in the world, all the editors reacted strongly. Finally a story that could save the broadcast! Everyone was aware that this was no ordinary murder, and they all began talking excitedly at once.
    After some discussion, the managing editor decided that sending one reporter to Gotland was enough. They agreed that they had enough confidence in Johan Berg to make do with him until more details were known.
    Johan was told to take along Peter Bylund, the cameraman he liked working with best. They would catch the plane for Visby that departed at 8:15 P.M.
    In the cab on his way home, Johan felt a familiar sense of excitement at being in the middle of a story. The fact that a woman had been grotesquely murdered and all the horror associated with such an event took a backseat to his desire to find out what had happened and then file a report. It’s strange how a person reacts, he thought as the cab drove across Västerbron and he stared out at the water of Riddarfjärden, bracketed by the city hall and Gamla Stan, the Old Town. You just have to put aside all the usual human emotions and let your professional role take over .
    He thought back to the night in September 1994 when the passenger ferry Estonia sank in the Baltic Sea. In the days following that horrible disaster in which over eight hundred people lost their lives, he had rushed around like a madman in the ferry terminal in Värtan talking to family members, the employees of the Estline ship company, the passengers who had survived, the politicians, and the emergency response teams. He went home only to sleep, and then he was back on the job. While he was in the thick of things, he became familiar with all the stories people told him, but as if from a distance. He shut off his own feelings. The reaction came much later. The first bodies recovered and brought home to Sweden were taken in a procession from Arlanda Airport to Riddarholm Church in Gamla Stan for a memorial service before they were transported to their hometowns. When Johan heard a journalist reporting directly from the church on Radio Stockholm, speaking in a deep and somber voice, he broke down. He collapsed on the floor of his apartment, weeping torrents. It was as if all the impressions he had gathered appeared before him at the same time. He pictured bodies floating around inside the ship, people screaming, passengers getting stuck under tables and shelves that were being tossed around, the panic that erupted on board. He felt as if he would go to pieces. He shuddered at the memory.
    Back inside his apartment, Johan realized what a mess the place was. He hadn’t had time to take care of all the chores lately.
    His one-bedroom apartment on Heleneborgsgatan in Södermalm was on the ground floor. From indoors you couldn’t tell that the waters of