work.’
‘I’m sure you can, if you book the time early enough.’
‘We’ve talked about this before; you have to realise there’s a difference between what you do and what I do.’
Mikael was a priest, and Eden loved him for that. Everything was possible in Mikael’s world. The sky was the limit as far as he was concerned, but his naive attitude towards time, and above all to obligations outside the family, drove her crazy. It created conflict and all too often led to arguments.
Things had been calm for a while now; Christmas had been enjoyable, and January hadn’t sprung any surprises. Eden had even managed to drop the girls off at day care and pick them up, just
like an ordinary mum.
A
normal
mum. One who didn’t feel like screaming ‘For God’s sake will you hurry up!’ as soon as she saw the twins ambling towards her, eager to show and tell
what they had been doing at day care. As if they had all the time in the world. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world, they would hand her drawings and trolls made of stones and all
kinds of crap that Eden realised other people took into work and placed on their desks; personally, she just wanted to chuck the whole lot in a box in the garage. She understood that the children
thought they had made something wonderful, but she felt as if she would be doing them a disservice if she lied. Ugly was ugly, end of.
‘How long do you think you’ll stay with Säpo?’ Mikael asked.
Excellent, he had already dropped his holiday plans.
‘Why do you ask? I’ve only been there just over six months.’
‘I’m asking because I know you, Eden. You’re a restless soul.’
She stared up at the ceiling. Was that true? Was she restless? Maybe, maybe not.
‘I’ll stay for a while. There’s a lot to do within their organisation before I’m satisfied.’
‘Their organisation? Not yours?’
No. She would never again make the same mistake as she had in London, becoming as one with an organisation that wasn’t hers after all.
The desire for a cigarette grew too strong.
‘Back in a minute,’ she said, getting out of bed again.
‘Say what you like, nobody could accuse you of being a romantic,’ Mikael said, and for a moment it bothered her that he didn’t sound in the least ironic.
She let the comment pass. In the bathroom she unzipped her toilet bag and took out the packet of cigarettes and the lighter she always kept in the side pocket. She ran water into the hand basin,
then opened the window and lit up. She closed her eyes as she blew out the smoke, the cold air cooling her body. Just a few drags, then she was satisfied. The odd snowflake found its way into the
bathroom, melting on her bare skin.
As usual she doused the cigarette under the running water and flushed the stub down the loo. She was brushing her teeth when her mobile rang again.
She went back into the bedroom. Why couldn’t the Solomon Community understand that she was neither willing nor able to help them?
But it wasn’t the Solomon Community. It was her boss, Buster Hansson, the General Director of Säpo, usually known as GD.
‘We have a problem,’ he said. ‘Efraim Kiel is back in Sweden.’
The telephone slipped out of Eden’s hand and landed on the floor.
‘What’s happened?’ Mikael asked, sitting up in bed.
‘Nothing,’ she said, picking up the phone.
But inside she was in turmoil.
Efraim Kiel. She could think of several reasons why he might turn up in Stockholm.
None of them was good news.
I t was almost nine thirty, and Fredrika Bergman was sitting alone in the kitchen with a cup of tea. Spencer was in their bedroom, and she had asked him to stay there. They had had an
unexpectedly bitter argument about how he thought he could possibly go off to Jerusalem, because it turned out they had completely different perceptions of what was achievable, and what they could
demand of one another.
‘How would you react if I suddenly said I was going off to play
‘I’m sure you can, if you book the time early enough.’
‘We’ve talked about this before; you have to realise there’s a difference between what you do and what I do.’
Mikael was a priest, and Eden loved him for that. Everything was possible in Mikael’s world. The sky was the limit as far as he was concerned, but his naive attitude towards time, and above all to obligations outside the family, drove her crazy. It created conflict and all too often led to arguments.
Things had been calm for a while now; Christmas had been enjoyable, and January hadn’t sprung any surprises. Eden had even managed to drop the girls off at day care and pick them up, just
like an ordinary mum.
A
normal
mum. One who didn’t feel like screaming ‘For God’s sake will you hurry up!’ as soon as she saw the twins ambling towards her, eager to show and tell
what they had been doing at day care. As if they had all the time in the world. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world, they would hand her drawings and trolls made of stones and all
kinds of crap that Eden realised other people took into work and placed on their desks; personally, she just wanted to chuck the whole lot in a box in the garage. She understood that the children
thought they had made something wonderful, but she felt as if she would be doing them a disservice if she lied. Ugly was ugly, end of.
‘How long do you think you’ll stay with Säpo?’ Mikael asked.
Excellent, he had already dropped his holiday plans.
‘Why do you ask? I’ve only been there just over six months.’
‘I’m asking because I know you, Eden. You’re a restless soul.’
She stared up at the ceiling. Was that true? Was she restless? Maybe, maybe not.
‘I’ll stay for a while. There’s a lot to do within their organisation before I’m satisfied.’
‘Their organisation? Not yours?’
No. She would never again make the same mistake as she had in London, becoming as one with an organisation that wasn’t hers after all.
The desire for a cigarette grew too strong.
‘Back in a minute,’ she said, getting out of bed again.
‘Say what you like, nobody could accuse you of being a romantic,’ Mikael said, and for a moment it bothered her that he didn’t sound in the least ironic.
She let the comment pass. In the bathroom she unzipped her toilet bag and took out the packet of cigarettes and the lighter she always kept in the side pocket. She ran water into the hand basin,
then opened the window and lit up. She closed her eyes as she blew out the smoke, the cold air cooling her body. Just a few drags, then she was satisfied. The odd snowflake found its way into the
bathroom, melting on her bare skin.
As usual she doused the cigarette under the running water and flushed the stub down the loo. She was brushing her teeth when her mobile rang again.
She went back into the bedroom. Why couldn’t the Solomon Community understand that she was neither willing nor able to help them?
But it wasn’t the Solomon Community. It was her boss, Buster Hansson, the General Director of Säpo, usually known as GD.
‘We have a problem,’ he said. ‘Efraim Kiel is back in Sweden.’
The telephone slipped out of Eden’s hand and landed on the floor.
‘What’s happened?’ Mikael asked, sitting up in bed.
‘Nothing,’ she said, picking up the phone.
But inside she was in turmoil.
Efraim Kiel. She could think of several reasons why he might turn up in Stockholm.
None of them was good news.
I t was almost nine thirty, and Fredrika Bergman was sitting alone in the kitchen with a cup of tea. Spencer was in their bedroom, and she had asked him to stay there. They had had an
unexpectedly bitter argument about how he thought he could possibly go off to Jerusalem, because it turned out they had completely different perceptions of what was achievable, and what they could
demand of one another.
‘How would you react if I suddenly said I was going off to play
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