Places
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He had passed Åkeshov metro station and drove into an area of detached houses from the forties, the educated middle class.
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'I went to see him this morning. Danderyd hospital. He's shaken.'
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He passed Danderyd, Täby, Vallentuna ... for the third time in twenty-four hours he was approaching the small| town of Aspsås, but he wasnt going to the prison or the church ...
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Erik Wilson sat quietly in the front seat of the hire e car. He had been here for five days, back in Glynco, Georgia at a military base called FLETC, to continue the work that had been interrupted when Paula rang about a buyer in Västmannagatan ...
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Ewert Grens parked on Fredsgatan close to the dark building from whcrc Sweden was governed.
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He had said no to the prosecutor's suggestion of finishing the evening with a a beer in the lawyer' haunt at Frescati ...
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He ate his hamburger outside Gustav Vasa church, then turned right into a street he had visited several times in the past few weeks ...
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An exasperated sigh from a dark bedroom upstairs in a terraced house somewhere in Gustavsberg.
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It was a pleasant place on the corner of San Marco Boulevard and Philips Street, quiet in spite of every table being taken and dark in spite of the sun blasting on the roofs, walls and windows.
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The big clock on Kungsholms church struck half past midnight when Ewert Grens left his office and the police headquarters and drove the short distance to Rosenbad.
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This one? Firearms offence, pathway under Liljeholm bridge.
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And this one? Attempted kidnapping, Magnus Ladulåsgatan.
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Ewert Grens accelerated, the E18 north of Roslagstull was almost empty and right now he didn't give a damn about signs that limited the speed to seventy kilometres an hour.
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Once, five years ago, one time only, Ågestam, the day after the hostage drama in the morgue at Söder hospital, I forced my way into his home, against his will.
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Vanadisvägen, Gävlegatan, Solnabron, he carried on through the mild night, as if someone else were walking beside him and he was just following; he thought nothing, felt nothing, not until he stopped on Solna Kyrkväg in front of an opening in the fence that was called Gate 1 and was one of ten ...
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The girl who holds his hand and forces him to walk close to her as they wander through the Stockholm dawn, the girl who struggles beside him on badly waxed skis through the snow-covered chestnut trees in Vasaparken, the girl who moves in with a young man to the flat on Sveavägen.
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