Read Online Bad Blood: A Crime Novel by Arne Dahl - Free Book Online Page B

time to ask, “How’s school going?”
    His son had just started upper secondary school, and Paul had devoted only a few wasted hours to trying to understand the school system. Danne was in something that went by the name “Program in Social Sciences,” and his lessons seemed decidedly simpler than the process of figuring out the curriculum.
    “Good,” said Danne.
    The theme music of the local news came on, just as abbreviated as his son’s reply.
    “Here comes some great television art,” said Paul Hjelm. The rest of the family looked at him skeptically.
    It came on right away. The anchorwoman spoke excitedly about a big crackdown on narcotics at Arlanda this morning—and about the dramatic assault of a top police officer in front of their cameras. Sensitive viewers were warned. Hjelm’s expectations rose.
    Then Waldemar Mörner, the deputy commissioner of the National Police Board and the A-Unit’s formal boss, appeared on the screen.
    His well-coiffed blond hair was impeccable, but he was breathing heavily, as though he had just personally chased some criminals through Arlanda. Presumably he had just tumbled out of the helicopter before he had any idea of what had happened; perhaps he had been jogging in place inside the helicopter. Neither his breathing nor his ignorance stopped him from looking confident and efficient—or from lying with no inhibitions.
    “Waldemar Mörner, deputy commissioner of the National Police Board,” the reporter began. “What happened at Arlanda today?”
    “The NCP acted on indications from the American police that a large quantity of narcotics would arrive at Arlanda today from the United States. I can’t go into specifics on the action itself.”
    “Has anyone been apprehended?”
    “At least one American citizen has been taken into custody in connection with smuggling narcotics, yes. We are expecting further apprehensions shortly.”
    A man in handcuffs was seen at the edge of the screen. Hjelm recognized the notorious drug smuggler Robert E. Norton, surrounded by four armed Arlanda police officers. As they watched,he managed to kick Mörner’s backside, knocking Mörner over with a shrill cry. When he fell, he grabbed the microphone, so the reporter followed him to the floor. The microphone cord must, in turn, have been wound around the cameraman’s legs, because he plunged to his face. Over the lengthy footage of Arlanda’s ceiling, they could hear the cameraman whimpering, the reporter moaning, and Mörner’s verbal gunfire: “Fuckinghellgoddamndildofuck.”
    The producer didn’t cut until then; it wasn’t hard to imagine his sadistic smile.
    Yet it was too early for the anchorwoman in the studio. As the camera caught her, she shouted in a panic, “Am I really supposed to read this?” When she realized she was on the air, she pulled herself together and struggled heroically to keep her composure as she read “Fortunately, no one was seriously injured in the drug dealer’s attack. Our reporter, however, suffered some oral injuries when the microphone, which had been pushed into his mouth, was removed.”
    On the sofa in Norsborg, no one was required to keep their composure. When the gales of laughter ebbed, Paul returned the remote control to Danne. He caught Cilla’s glance. As she dried her tears and restored her face, her eyes were serious. She realized something was brewing.
    They went to bed rather early; both had long days at work ahead. Danne was allowed to keep watching MTV; it wasn’t an evening when they really had the energy to be responsible parents. Experience told them that he was probably doing his homework as he watched.
    Neither of them could really understand how multitasking could be so quickly upgraded.
    “What’s going on?” Cilla asked with a flashing spark of attention as sleep tried to envelop her.
    “Nothing yet,” Paul said as he unpacked a few books ontothe nightstand. “But the risk that something will happen has