shot several rolls, so maybe we could do a variation on that to accompany the story about the victim in tomorrow's paper— a bit of recycling?"
Pelle Oscarsson nodded. "Yep, there are plenty of pics. I'm sure we could find one that isn't all that similar."
"Aktuellt is on," Ingvar Johansson said, turning up the TV with the remote.
They all turned their attention to the TV to see what Swedish Television had cooked up. They opened with footage from the police press conference, then went back to the morning when the arena was still on fire. After this, interviews followed with all the obvious people: Chief District Prosecutor Lindström, Evert Danielsson from the Olympic Secretariat, a Krim investigator, and an old lady who lived next to the arena and who woke up from the explosion.
"They've got nothing new," Ingvar Johansson stated and switched to CNN.
The meeting resumed and Ingvar Johansson ran through the rest of the contents of tomorrow's paper. They kept the TV on low while CNN ran their Breaking News. A CNN reporter appeared at regular intervals doing stand-ups from outside the cordons around the Olympic Village. They had another reporter in front of the police headquarters and a third one at the International Olympic Committee's headquarters in Lausanne. The live broadcasts were interspersed with recorded segments about the Olympics and various acts of violence that had hit the Games throughout the years. They had comments from internationally known celebrities and a condemnation of the attack by a White House press spokesperson.
Annika realized she wasn't listening to what Ingvar Johansson was saying. When he got to the soft-news pages, she made her excuses and left the meeting. She went back to the cafeteria and ordered a prawn pasta and a low-alcohol beer. While the microwave was humming behind the counter, she sat down and stared into the darkness. If she strained her eyes and focused hard, she could see the windows of the building opposite. When she relaxed, all she saw was her own reflection in the window.
Having finished her meal, she assembled the members of her own little desk, Patrik and Berit, and compared notes with them in her office.
"I'll do the terrorist story," Annika said. "Have you got anything on the victim, Berit?"
"A little," the reporter said, leafing through her notes. "The technicians have found some stuff inside the arena they believe belonged to the victim. It was pretty badly damaged, but they've established that there's a briefcase, a Filofax, and a cellphone."
She fell silent and noticed that both Annika's and Patrik's eyes were wide open.
"Christ!" Annika exclaimed. "That must mean they know who the victim is."
"Possibly," Berit said, "but they're not saying a word. It took me two hours just to get this from them."
"But that's great," Annika said. "Fantastic! You've done really well. Really! I haven't heard this anywhere else."
She leaned back in her chair, laughing and clapping her hands. Patrik smiled. Annika turned to him: "And how are you getting on?"
"I've done the blast itself. You can look at it for yourself; it's on the server. I've matched it to the picture of the arena, like you said. But I don't have much on the actual hunt for the murderer, I'm afraid. The police have done door-to-door interviews around the Docklands during the day, but not many people have moved into the apartments of the Olympic Village yet, so the place is quite empty."
"Who is the dark man, and who is the witness?"
"I haven't been able to get anything on that," Patrik said.
Suddenly Annika remembered something her driver had said in the car on the way out to the stadium early that morning. "There's an unlicensed club out there," she said, straightening up in her chair. "The injured driver had a fare there when the bomb went off. There must've been people there, both
Pelle Oscarsson nodded. "Yep, there are plenty of pics. I'm sure we could find one that isn't all that similar."
"Aktuellt is on," Ingvar Johansson said, turning up the TV with the remote.
They all turned their attention to the TV to see what Swedish Television had cooked up. They opened with footage from the police press conference, then went back to the morning when the arena was still on fire. After this, interviews followed with all the obvious people: Chief District Prosecutor Lindström, Evert Danielsson from the Olympic Secretariat, a Krim investigator, and an old lady who lived next to the arena and who woke up from the explosion.
"They've got nothing new," Ingvar Johansson stated and switched to CNN.
The meeting resumed and Ingvar Johansson ran through the rest of the contents of tomorrow's paper. They kept the TV on low while CNN ran their Breaking News. A CNN reporter appeared at regular intervals doing stand-ups from outside the cordons around the Olympic Village. They had another reporter in front of the police headquarters and a third one at the International Olympic Committee's headquarters in Lausanne. The live broadcasts were interspersed with recorded segments about the Olympics and various acts of violence that had hit the Games throughout the years. They had comments from internationally known celebrities and a condemnation of the attack by a White House press spokesperson.
Annika realized she wasn't listening to what Ingvar Johansson was saying. When he got to the soft-news pages, she made her excuses and left the meeting. She went back to the cafeteria and ordered a prawn pasta and a low-alcohol beer. While the microwave was humming behind the counter, she sat down and stared into the darkness. If she strained her eyes and focused hard, she could see the windows of the building opposite. When she relaxed, all she saw was her own reflection in the window.
Having finished her meal, she assembled the members of her own little desk, Patrik and Berit, and compared notes with them in her office.
"I'll do the terrorist story," Annika said. "Have you got anything on the victim, Berit?"
"A little," the reporter said, leafing through her notes. "The technicians have found some stuff inside the arena they believe belonged to the victim. It was pretty badly damaged, but they've established that there's a briefcase, a Filofax, and a cellphone."
She fell silent and noticed that both Annika's and Patrik's eyes were wide open.
"Christ!" Annika exclaimed. "That must mean they know who the victim is."
"Possibly," Berit said, "but they're not saying a word. It took me two hours just to get this from them."
"But that's great," Annika said. "Fantastic! You've done really well. Really! I haven't heard this anywhere else."
She leaned back in her chair, laughing and clapping her hands. Patrik smiled. Annika turned to him: "And how are you getting on?"
"I've done the blast itself. You can look at it for yourself; it's on the server. I've matched it to the picture of the arena, like you said. But I don't have much on the actual hunt for the murderer, I'm afraid. The police have done door-to-door interviews around the Docklands during the day, but not many people have moved into the apartments of the Olympic Village yet, so the place is quite empty."
"Who is the dark man, and who is the witness?"
"I haven't been able to get anything on that," Patrik said.
Suddenly Annika remembered something her driver had said in the car on the way out to the stadium early that morning. "There's an unlicensed club out there," she said, straightening up in her chair. "The injured driver had a fare there when the bomb went off. There must've been people there, both
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