Dark Music by David Lagercrantz

Author:David Lagercrantz [Lagercrantz, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2022-08-23T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

Coming around to it might have been an exaggeration.

Vargas unsettled him, and he didn’t trust her—some chick from Husby with criminals for siblings. That was the last person on earth he wanted to be lectured by. But Fransson was smart enough to realise they needed help, and Vargas seemed to have her channels. What was more, he could make a fresh attempt at getting her to open up about her brother. There was a knock on the door. What now? It was Beijer again. Of course.

“What do you want this time?” he said.

“I’ve got confirmation from Foreign Affairs,” Jonas said.

“What have they confirmed?”

“Kabir really was tortured by the CIA. He was in that prison no-one knows about. The Salt Pit or the Prison of Darkness, as the prisoners called it.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Fransson said.

“And worst of all…do you know what’s worst of all?” Jonas said.

“I really do not.”

“The CIA has more dirt on him that we don’t know about.”

Fransson couldn’t deal with this any longer. He couldn’t stand the whole circus around this investigation, and the feeling of never truly being in control or knowing anything.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve no idea. But if they tortured him that much, they must have found out something, and just recently…”

Jonas hesitated and sat down on Fransson’s visitor’s chair again, fidgeting anxiously.

“Yes?”

“I’m pretty certain that Micaela is holed up with Rekke somewhere.”

“Why would she be?”

“Because I got that impression when I saw her.”

“How the hell did they find each other?”

“I’ve no idea. But I think they’ve got material that we don’t have access to.”

“It seems like they might.”

“And it feels like there’s more than that stuff about the CIA and torture.”

“What makes you say that?”

“A couple of minutes ago I got a text from Micaela. She wanted the name of the violinist who was shot in her basement in Kabul.”

“What does she want that for? We know that Kabir had nothing to do with it.”

“Yes, we know that,” Jonas said, but he didn’t look as certain as Fransson had hoped. Fransson thought about Lovisa Rekke again, and the violin being played in that big house in Djursholm.

For a moment it was as if he understood why people wanted to smash what was beyond their reach. But he pushed that thought aside and told Jonas he had work to be getting on with.

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