Joona opens the front door from the inside, moves the seat back, pulls his screwdriver out of his pocket, prises off the cover around the ignition and loosens the panels on the steering column. He leans over and inserts the screwdriver into the upper part of the column, and carefully breaks the steering lock.

Quickly he pulls on a pair of gloves, gets in the driving seat, loosens the red cables on the ignition cylinder and peels back their plastic covering. As soon as he twists the ends together music starts to play on the radio and the inside light comes on. He shuts the door, pulls out the brown wires and puts them together, and the engine starts.

The streets aren't yet full of cars as he drives out to Huddinge. A plastic rosary hangs off the rear-view mirror. There are already lorries on the road, but the commuters are still drinking coffee in their homes.

In Huddinge he drives past the imposing prison building and carries on south, pulls on to a track leading into the forest, turns the car round, parks, then starts walking back towards Stockholm.

107.

Joona Linna gets out of the taxi on Surbrunnsgatan, pays and walks across the street to his grey hire-car. The engine starts with a gentle hum, he leans back in the leather seat and pulls away from the kerb.

When he reaches Huddinge Prison he parks right in front of the entrance, next to a metal fence, and calls Erik's number.

'How are you getting on?' he asks.

'OK, but I'm starting to get hungry.'

'I've changed my SIM-card, so you can tell me where you are now.'

'Behind St Mark's Church, outside the wall. There's a pet cemetery in the woods. I'm hiding in a red wooden shed.

'That's fairly close to the police raid on Nestor's flat, isn't it?'

'Yes, I heard the ambulance last night,' Erik says quietly.

'I'll bring Rocky out to you an hour from now,' Joona says, glancing up at the imposing edifice of the prison.

He puts his pistol and mobile in the glove-compartment, leaves the key in the ignition and then gets out of the car and walks in through the tall pillars.

He buys three sandwiches at the kiosk, asks for a bag, and then goes over to say why he's there.

After going through the usual security procedures Joona is shown inside the prison. The same prison officer as before is standing waiting for him.

Joona notes that Arne has a telescopic baton from Bonowi. It's made of sprung steel, and designed to hit the muscles in the upper arms and thighs.

His name-badge sits slightly crookedly on his pilled Nato sweater. His handcuffs are dangling from his belt at the base of his broad back.

In the lift Arne takes off his gla.s.ses and polishes them on his sweater.

'How's the fishing?' Joona asks.

'I'm heading to lvkarleby with my brother-in-law later this autumn.'

The interview room is one of the monitored rooms, in which one wall consists of a pane of gla.s.s, making it possible for people in the next room to observe everything going on inside.

Joona sits down on a chair and waits with both hands resting on the tabletop until he hears voices approaching along the corridor.

'He's called the naked chef because he was naked when he started,' the duty officer is saying as the door opens and Rocky is led into the room.

'No,' Arne says, 'that's not right ...'

'My wife and I saw Jamie Oliver at the book fair in Gothenburg fifteen years ago. He was completely naked. Stood there making spaghetti alle vongole.'

'My shoulders hurt,' Rocky sighs.

'Just keep quiet,' Arne says, pushing him down on to a chair.

'Give me a scribble and he's all yours,' the duty officer says as they leave the room.

108.

Rocky looks paler today, and has dark patches under his eyes he's probably suffering from withdrawal. Arne Melander sits in the adjoining room watching them, but he can't hear what they are saying. The soundproof gla.s.s wall is intended to protect the confidentiality of conversations between defence lawyers and their clients, but also to allow the police to question suspects without the contents of their conversations leaking out.

'They say they can keep me locked up in this f.u.c.king place for six months,' Rocky says in a gruff voice, rubbing under his nose.

'You've talked about a preacher,' Joona says, in a final attempt to avoid putting his plan into action.

'I have problems with my memory after-'

'I know,' Joona interrupts. 'But try to remember the preacher, you saw him kill a woman called Tina.'

'That's possible,' Rocky says, his eyes narrowing.

'He chopped off her arm with a machete. Do you remember that?'

'I don't remember anything,' Rocky whispers.

'Do you know someone called Nestor?'

'I don't think so.'

'Look at this picture,' Joona says, handing him the printout.

Rocky studies Nestor's thin face carefully, then nods.

'He was in Karsudden, I think ...'

'Did you know him?'

'I don't know, there were different sections.'

'Are you prepared to meet Erik Maria Bark and let yourself be hypnotised?'

'OK,' Rocky says with a shrug.

'The problem is that the prosecutor is refusing to let you out,' Joona says slowly.

'Erik can always come and hypnotise me here.'

'That isn't possible, because the police think Erik carried out the murders.'

'Erik?'

'But he's as innocent as you were.'

'Vanitas vanitatum,' Rocky says with a broad smile.

'Erik found Olivia, who ...'

'I know, I know, I go down on my knees and thank him every evening ... But what do you expect me to do about it?'

'We're leaving together, you and me,' Joona replies calmly. 'I'll take one of the guards hostage and all you have to do is come along with me.'

'Hostage?'

'We'll be out in seven minutes, long before the police get here.'

Rocky looks at Joona, then at Arne sitting behind the gla.s.s.

'I'll do it if I can have my wraps back,' Rocky says, leaning back and stretching his legs.

'What sort of heroin was it?' Joona asks.

'White, from Nimroz ... but Kandahar would do fine.'

'I'll sort it,' Joona says, taking a flattened roll of duct tape from his pocket.

With his eyes half-closed, Rocky watches the former police officer wrap the heavy-duty tape round his hands.

'I'm sure you know what you're doing,' Rocky says.

'Bring the bag of sandwiches,' Joona says, pressing the b.u.t.ton on the intercom to indicate that the meeting is over.

A few moments later Arne opens the door and lets Joona out into the corridor. The idea is for him to lead Joona out of the prison, then take Rocky back to his cell.

While the prison officer locks Rocky inside the interview room, Joona goes over to the other door where the bottom of the skirting board has come loose. He leans down. Slips his fingers into the gap and pulls upwards. The screws spring free from the concrete wall along with their brown plastic rawlplugs.

'You can't do that!' Arne exclaims.

Crumbs of cement rain down on the floor as Joona yanks up the skirting board. The top screws are stuck and Joona jerks hard, twisting the metal until there's a bang as the last screws come loose.

'Are you listening?' Arne says, drawing his baton. 'I'm talking to you.'

Joona takes no notice of him. He holds the skirting board out in front of him, stamps down hard with his foot, bends down and turns it, then stamps again.

'What the h.e.l.l are you doing?' Arne asks with a nervous smile, coming closer.

'I'm sorry,' Joona says simply.

He knows what sort of training Arne Melander has received, and that he's going to approach with his left hand outstretched, trying to hold him off while he attempts to strike Joona on the thighs and upper arms with sweeping movements of the baton.

Joona moves towards him with long strides, knocks his arm away and then lands his elbow in the heavy man's chest, making him stagger back. His knees give way but he puts out a hand to support himself and manages to sit down on the floor.

Joona stumbles forward from the momentum of the blow, but stays on his feet and s.n.a.t.c.hes the prison officer's alarm from him before he has time to react. He cuts his lower arm as he puts the bent part of the skirting board around Arne's neck, then pulls the handcuffs from his belt and attaches one cuff to the point where the ends of the skirting board intersect.

'Stand up and let Rocky out,' he says.

Arne coughs and turns round heavily, crawls to the wall and leans against it as he gets to his feet.

'Unlock the door.'

Arne's hands are free, but Joona is steering him from behind with the protruding ends of the skirting board. His neck is trapped in the noose-like bend, the sharp edges of the metal pressing against his neck.

'Don't do this,' Arne pants.

Sweat is running down his face and his hands are shaking as he unlocks the door of the interview room. Rocky comes out, picks up the baton and presses it on the floor to make it contract again.

'Arne, if you help us we'll be out in four minutes and then I'll let you go,' Joona says.

The prison officer limps ahead of Joona, and keeps trying to slip his fingers under the metal noose.

'Use your pa.s.scard and type in the code,' Joona says, steering him towards the lift.

As they travel down through the building Arne holds one hand against the mirror and keeps looking up at the camera in the hope that someone will see him.

The metal has already cut through one layer of the duct-tape around Joona's hands.

When they emerge into the lobby it takes just a matter of seconds before the rest of the prison staff realise what's going on. Like a pressure wave, the atmosphere goes from relaxed to intense. Some sort of silent alarm has evidently been activated, a light is flashing beneath one desk, and prison officers who had been sitting talking moments before hurry to their feet. Chairs sc.r.a.pe the floor, papers fall to the ground.

'Let us through!' Joona calls, steering Arne towards the exit.

Seven guards are approaching anxiously from the corridor, they're clearly having trouble reading the situation, and Joona tells Rocky to watch his back.