Last Will by Liza Marklund Read Free Book Online

what ways the police are to transport and guard the government and royal family and guests on state visits and so on, there’s a certain number of functions …”
    Anders Schyman raised his hands to stop the reporter going on.
    “I’m talking about the complete failure of the police!” he said. “How could this happen? I want to focus on that. The police aren’t going to get away with this by whining about needing new legislation …”
    “Do you want a quick run-through of the morning editions?” Jansson asked, shifting uncomfortably on his chair.
    Anders Schyman sat down again, his face red after his outburst. He gestured to the night editor to go ahead.
    “We haven’t got much in the way of pictures of the crime scene,” Jansson said. “Ulf Olsson, you know, that idiot who loves celebrity events, he had five hundred shots of Princess Madeleine and not a single one of the attack. He didn’t manage to set the aperture or sort out the focus, and is blaming the resolution of his digital camera. Annika got a few shots of the Golden Hall when the whole City Hall was cordoned off—no one else has got anything like that—but they were taken on a cell phone and the technical quality leaves a lot to be desired. We’re running one on page eight, and another on nine—two forensics officers by a pool of blood, they’re pretty strong images.”
    “What else have we got?” Schyman asked.
    “We’re keeping an eye on Swedish Television, to see if they release any of the material they didn’t broadcast. They had a camera inside the Golden Hall when the shots were fired, but it looks like it was positioned next to the orchestra at the wrong end of the room. The question is how much it shows, and whether they’re going to release anything at all anyway.”
    “Of course they won’t,” Schyman said. “Why on earth would they?”
    “Well, this is a pretty special case,” Jansson said.
    Anger flashed through the editor in chief like a pillar of smoke.
    “Why?” he said. “What really makes this murder so special, other than the fact that it was unusually public?”
    “Triple murder,” Jansson said. “The second guard just died, and the third’s still critical. And no, I don’t think anyone sees this as a normal murder.”
    “The dead guards must have families and children,” Annika said.
    The editor in chief stood up again.
    “So these murders are so unusual that we need new legislation?” he said. “So special that we suddenly need a completely new set of ethical rules?”
    Annika Bengtzon looked at her watch and glanced at the night editor.
    “What else have we got?” she asked.
    “There were freelance photographers outside the City Hall, so there’s more material from out there. The whole damn city’s cordoned off, sowe’ve got masses of pictures of stern-faced cops and big cars. Pages ten and eleven, police hunt last night.”
    Anders Schyman still couldn’t sit still, and walked over to the window, where he stood with his back to the Russian Embassy.
    “Are the police expecting to make any arrests in the foreseeable future?” he asked.
    “The boat the girl escaped on has been found in Gröndal, and they think she got away south by car, toward Södertälje. She must have had help, someone driving the boat, and probably someone else on the inside as well.”
    Anders Schyman picked up a ballpoint pen and drummed it against his thumbnail.
    “Why south?”
    “The police are saying that they were prepared for something of this sort and set up roadblocks more or less at once. If she’d headed north or east she would have been caught, and there’s nothing but water to the west. We’ve got a graphic of the escape route with some pretty accurate timings; the police reckon she was south of Skärholmen before 11:05, because that’s when the roadblock went up.”
    He saw that Annika was staring at the pen and tossed it aside.
    “What about pictures of the victims?”
    Since the driving licence