with sweat as she moved through the Bangkok streets. It was a coincidence, of course. Thai Airways’ failure to locate her booking must just have been caused by some internal blip in the airline’s system. The same applied to her email accounts, she told herself. There must be some major server problem. When she tried tomorrow, it would all be fine.
But she felt her stomach knotting, the pain radiating in all directions. She could not shake off her sense of unease. She had taken all the precautions the project demanded. Only a handful of people knew about her trip, and fewer still knew the real reason for it. Her father was one of them, of course. She did a mental calculation and concluded it must be about one in the afternoon in Sweden. Her hand was slippery with sweat as she felt in her pocket for the mobile phone she had equipped with a Thai SIM card the day she arrived.
The phone crackled, cars tooted and voices shouted to be heard above all the noise with which Bangkok city was vibrating. She pressed the phone to one ear and put her finger in the other to try to hear. The phone rang once and then an unknown woman’s voice informed her that the number no longer existed and there was no forwarding option.
She stopped abruptly in the middle of the pavement, heedless of people walking into her from in front and behind. Her heart was pounding and the sweat was pouring off her. She rang again. And again.
She glared distrustfully at the phone and tried ringing her mother instead. She was transferred straight to voicemail, but decided there was no point leaving a message because her mother virtually never used her mobile. She tried ringing her parents’ landline instead. She closed her eyes and imagined the telephone ringing in the library and hall simultaneously and her parents each leaping to a phone as usual. Her father generally got there first.
The phone echoed into emptiness. One ring, two, three rings. Then an anonymous female voice told her this number, too, no longer existed, and no forwarding number was available.
What on earth was going on?
She could not honestly remember an occasion on which she had felt truly afraid. But this time it was impossible to ward off the anxiety that was creeping over her. She racked her brains in vain for a rational explanation for her failure to get hold of her parents. It was not just that they were out, it was more than that. They were no longer subscribers. Why ever would her parents do that without telling her? She told herself to stay calm. She ought to get herself something to eat and drink, perhaps sleep for a while. It had been a long day and she had to decide what she was going to do about the trip home.
She gripped the mobile phone hard. Who else could she ring? If she restricted herself to people who already knew where she was, the list would not be very long. And anyway, she had not got their numbers; they were her father’s friends. As far as she knew, most of them were ex-directory to make sure they were not disturbed outside work. She felt tears prick her eyes. Her rucksack was heavy and her back was starting to ache. Worn out with worry, she set off back to the hotel.
There was in fact one more person she ought to be able to ring. Just to make sure everything was all right, just for some help to reach her parents. Yet she still hesitated. They had not been close for several years now, and from what she had heard, he was in considerably worse shape than he had been then. On the other hand, she did not have many options left. She made up her mind just as she stopped to buy something to eat from a stall selling chicken kebabs.
‘Hi, it’s me,’ she said, relieved to hear the familiar voice answer. ‘I need a bit of help.’
To herself she added:
‘I’m being cut off from the world.’
STOCKHOLM
Alex Recht assembled his team in the Den straight after lunch. Fredrika slipped in just as he was starting the meeting. Alex noted that she looked a bit
But she felt her stomach knotting, the pain radiating in all directions. She could not shake off her sense of unease. She had taken all the precautions the project demanded. Only a handful of people knew about her trip, and fewer still knew the real reason for it. Her father was one of them, of course. She did a mental calculation and concluded it must be about one in the afternoon in Sweden. Her hand was slippery with sweat as she felt in her pocket for the mobile phone she had equipped with a Thai SIM card the day she arrived.
The phone crackled, cars tooted and voices shouted to be heard above all the noise with which Bangkok city was vibrating. She pressed the phone to one ear and put her finger in the other to try to hear. The phone rang once and then an unknown woman’s voice informed her that the number no longer existed and there was no forwarding option.
She stopped abruptly in the middle of the pavement, heedless of people walking into her from in front and behind. Her heart was pounding and the sweat was pouring off her. She rang again. And again.
She glared distrustfully at the phone and tried ringing her mother instead. She was transferred straight to voicemail, but decided there was no point leaving a message because her mother virtually never used her mobile. She tried ringing her parents’ landline instead. She closed her eyes and imagined the telephone ringing in the library and hall simultaneously and her parents each leaping to a phone as usual. Her father generally got there first.
The phone echoed into emptiness. One ring, two, three rings. Then an anonymous female voice told her this number, too, no longer existed, and no forwarding number was available.
What on earth was going on?
She could not honestly remember an occasion on which she had felt truly afraid. But this time it was impossible to ward off the anxiety that was creeping over her. She racked her brains in vain for a rational explanation for her failure to get hold of her parents. It was not just that they were out, it was more than that. They were no longer subscribers. Why ever would her parents do that without telling her? She told herself to stay calm. She ought to get herself something to eat and drink, perhaps sleep for a while. It had been a long day and she had to decide what she was going to do about the trip home.
She gripped the mobile phone hard. Who else could she ring? If she restricted herself to people who already knew where she was, the list would not be very long. And anyway, she had not got their numbers; they were her father’s friends. As far as she knew, most of them were ex-directory to make sure they were not disturbed outside work. She felt tears prick her eyes. Her rucksack was heavy and her back was starting to ache. Worn out with worry, she set off back to the hotel.
There was in fact one more person she ought to be able to ring. Just to make sure everything was all right, just for some help to reach her parents. Yet she still hesitated. They had not been close for several years now, and from what she had heard, he was in considerably worse shape than he had been then. On the other hand, she did not have many options left. She made up her mind just as she stopped to buy something to eat from a stall selling chicken kebabs.
‘Hi, it’s me,’ she said, relieved to hear the familiar voice answer. ‘I need a bit of help.’
To herself she added:
‘I’m being cut off from the world.’
STOCKHOLM
Alex Recht assembled his team in the Den straight after lunch. Fredrika slipped in just as he was starting the meeting. Alex noted that she looked a bit
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