Behind the reception desk, there is a lighted red emblem emblazoned with the company name and a serpentine logo encircled by runes.
He fought as long as he had a weapon, Joona says.
Can you read runes now? asks Saga skeptically.
Joona points at the sign with the translation as he walks to the reception desk. A pale man with thin, dry lips is ensconced behind the desk.
Pontus Salman, Joona says shortly.
Do you have an appointment?
Two oclock, Saga says.
The receptionist shuffles through some papers, flips to one, and reads.
Yes, thats right, he says as he raises his eyes. Unfortunately, Pontus Salman sends his regrets. He cannot make this meeting.
We received no notice of a cancellation, Saga says. We must talk to him-
I am very sorry.
Please call him. Tell him were here, Saga says.
Ill try, but I believe hes in a meeting.
On the fourth floor, Joona inserts.
The fifth, the receptionist corrects automatically.
Saga sits down in one of the reception chairs. The sun streams in through the windows and spreads like fire in her hair. Joona remains standing as the receptionist lifts his phone to his ear and taps a number. The busy signal sounds and the receptionist shakes his head.
Hang up, Joona says. Well just surprise him instead.
Surprise him? the receptionist repeats uncertainly.
Joona simply walks to the glass door beyond the reception desk and opens it.
You dont even need to tell him were coming, Joona says. Saga gets up from the chair and follows Joona.
Wait! the man calls out. Ill try to-
They keep walking through the hallway and into an open elevator. They punch the button for the fifth floor. The door closes and the elevator moves silently upward.
Pontus Salman is waiting for them when the doors open. He is about forty years old and there is a worn, tired look to his face.
Welcome, he says drily.
Thanks.
Pontus Salman looks them over.
A detective and a fairy-tale princess, he says.
As they follow Salman through a long hallway, Joona runs through their plan in his mind.
Joona feels a cold shiver down his back-as if Viola Fernandez is opening her eyes right then in her cold box, watching him expectantly.
The hallway is lined with dark-tinted glass, creating an aura of timelessness. The office itself is fairly large and contains a desk of elm wood and a light gray sofa group around a black glass coffee table.
They each take one of the stuffed chairs. Pontus Salman smiles cheerlessly and forms a steeple with his hands. Then he asks, Why are you here?
You know that Carl Palmcrona of ISP is dead? asks Saga.
Salman nods. I heard it was a suicide.
Our investigation into that is not yet finished, Saga says in a friendly manner. Were following up on a photograph we found. We want to find out who these people are around Palmcrona.
Three of them are clear, but one person is blurry, Joona says.
Wed like some of your employees to take a look, too. Perhaps someone will recognize him. One hand, for instance, is a little sharper.
I understand, Salman says and purses his lips.
Maybe someone can tell who it is from the context, Saga says. Its worth a try.
Weve visited Patria and Saab Bofors Dynamics, Joona says. None of them knows.
Pontus Salmans tired face shows nothing at all. Joona wonders to himself if Salman takes pills to keep calm and self-confident. Theres something remarkably lifeless in his eyes-a lack of expression and contact-as if something inside has slid away, leaving him with no connection to anything at all.
You must think this is important, Salman says, crossing one leg over the other.
You must think this is important, Salman says, crossing one leg over the other.
Indeed we do, Saga says.
May I see this unusual photograph? Pontus Salman asks in his easy but impersonal manner.
Besides Palmcrona, weve identified the weapons dealer, Raphael Guidi, Joona says. Weve also identified Agathe al-Haji, who is the military adviser for President al-Bashir but no one recognizes this fourth person.
Joona takes out the folder, and then hands over the photograph in its protective plastic cover. Saga points to the blurred person. Joona watches her concentrate on Salman to register every nuance, every nervous signal in his body if he lies.
Salman moistens his lips and, even though his cheeks turn pale before he smiles, he taps the photograph and says, But thats me!
Its you?
Yes, he says with a laugh, revealing small, childlike front teeth.
But-
We had a meeting in Frankfurt, he continues with a pleased smile. We were listening to a wonderful well, I dont remember what they were playing maybe Beethoven
Joona tries to understand this unexpected confession. He clears his throat.
Youre absolutely sure?
Of course, Salman says.
Well, that solves that puzzle, Saga says warmly with no hint of their miscalculation.
Maybe I should get a job at Sapo, Salman jokes.
If I may ask, what was this meeting about? asks Joona.
I can talk about it now. Salman laughs and looks directly at Joona. This photo was taken in the spring of 2008. We were discussing a shipment of ammunition to Sudan. Agathe al-Haji was negotiating on behalf of the government. The area needed to stabilize after the peace agreement in 2005. The negotiations were fairly far along, but all our work went up in smoke in the spring of 2009, of course. We were shaken, yes, you understand and since then, weve had no contact with Sudan.