Free Falling, As If in a Dream Read online




  ALSO BY LEIF GW PERSSON

  Between Summer’s Longing and Winter’s End

  Another Time, Another Life

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Translation copyright © 2014 by Pantheon Books, a division of Random House, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Pantheon Books, a division of Random House, LLC, New York, a Penguin Random House Company, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published in Sweden as Faller fritt som I en dröm by Albert Bonniers Förlag, Stockholm, in 2007. Copyright © 2007 by Leif GW Persson.

  Pantheon Books and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Persson, Leif GW

  [Faller fritt som i en dröm. English]

  Free falling, as if in a dream : the story of a crime / Leif GW Persson ; translated from the Swedish by Paul Norlen.

  pages cm

  ISBN 978-0-307-37747-0

  eBook ISBN: 9780307907851

  1. Palme, Olof, 1927-1986—Assassination—Fiction. 2. Prime ministers—Sweden—Death—Fiction. 3. Assassination—Investigation—Sweden—Fiction. 4. Cold cases (Criminal investigation)—Sweden—Fiction. I. Norlen, Paul R. II. Title.

  PT9876.26.E7225F3513 2013 839.73'74—dc23 2012050987

  www.pantheonbooks.com

  Cover photograph by Jessica Hines

  Cover design by Brian Barth

  ep_v4.0

  To Mikael and the Bear

  Regardless of whether truth is absolute or relative, and quite apart from the fact that many of us constantly seek it, in the end it is still hidden from almost all of us. As a rule out of necessity, and if for no other reason out of concern for those who wouldn’t understand anyway. There is no law of public access with regard to the truth. We have a practical problem that we have to solve, and it’s no more difficult than that.

  —The Professor

  Witness One (W1) is on Tunnelgatan when he catches sight of the murderer, who he runs after, up the steps to Malmskillnadsgatan where he meets Witness Two (W2), who has seen a man running down David Bagares gata. Witnesses Three and Four (W3, W4) have seen a man turn to the left onto Regeringsgatan. A fifth witness, the “Cartoonist” (C) saw a man running through Smala gränd and out onto Birger Jarlsgatan.

  Image source © Kartena AB

  Witness Madeleine Nilsson (MN) claims on the other hand to have met a suspicious man on the stairs between Malmskillnadsgatan and Kungsgatan, which suggests a completely different escape route.

  Contents

  Cover

  Also by Leif GW Persson

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Map

  Wednesday, October 10. The harbor in Puerto Pollensa on north Mallorca

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Wednesday, October 10. The bay outside Puerto Pollensa on north Mallorca

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Wednesday, October 10. The bay outside Puerto Pollensa on north Mallorca

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Wednesday, October 10. Canal de Menorca outside Puerto Pollensa on north Mallorca

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Puerto Alcúdia on north Mallorca

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Mallorca, present day

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  North Mallorca, fall of 1992

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Wednesday, October 10. Outside Cap de Formentor in Canal de Menorca

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  In Canal de Menorca outside Cap de Formentor, early in the morning the same day

  Chapter 98

  In the deep channel outside Cap de Formentor on north Mallorca in the morning the day before

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  About the Author

  Wednesday, October 10.

  The harbor in Puerto Pollensa on north Mallorca

  Just before seven o’clock in the morning Esperanza left her usual place at the charter pier in the harbor. A beautiful little boat with a beautiful name.

  1

  Eight weeks earlier, Wednesday, August 15.

  Headquarters of the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation on Kungsholmen in Stockholm

  “Olof Palme,” said the chief of the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation, Lars Martin Johansson. “Are you familiar with that name, ladies and gentlemen?”

  For some reason he seemed almost joyful as he said it. Just back from vacation with a becoming suntan, red suspenders, and linen shirt with no tie as a lighthearted signal of the transition from relaxation to responsibility. He leaned forward in his seat at the short end of the conference table, letting his gaze wander across the four others gathered around the same table.

  The joy seemed to be his alone. Doubtful looks were exchanged among three of the four—Police Superintendent Anna Holt, Detective Chief Inspector Jan Lewin, and Detective Chief Inspector Lisa Mattei—while the fourth in the group, Chief Insp
ector Yngve Flykt, who was head of the Palme group, seemed if anything embarrassed by the question and tried to compensate by looking politely preoccupied.

  “Olof Palme,” Johansson repeated, his voice now sounding more urgent. “Does that ring any bells?”

  The one who finally answered was Lisa Mattei, the youngest of the group, but long accustomed to the role of best in class. First she glanced at the head of the Palme investigation, who only nodded and looked tired, then she looked down at her notepad, which incidentally was free of any notes or the doodling with which she usually filled it, whatever was being discussed. Then in two sentences she summarized Olof Palme’s political career, and in four sentences his end.

  “Olof Palme,” said Mattei. “Social Democrat and Sweden’s most well-known politician during the postwar period. Prime minister for two terms, from 1969 to 1976 and from 1982 to 1986. Was murdered at the intersection of Sveavägen and Tunnelgatan in central Stockholm twenty-one years, five months, and fourteen days ago. It was Friday the twenty-eighth of February 1986, twenty minutes past eleven. He was shot from behind with one shot and appears to have died almost immediately. I was eleven years old when it happened, so I’m afraid I don’t have much more to contribute,” Mattei concluded.

  “Don’t say that,” said Johansson with a Norrland drawl. “Our victim was the prime minister and a fine fellow, and how common is this kind of crime victim at this sort of place? True, I’m only the head of the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation, but I’m also an orderly person and extremely allergic to unsolved cases,” he continued. “I take them personally, if you’re wondering why you’re here.”

  No one had wondered about that. No one seemed particularly enthusiastic either. Regardless, the whole thing started as it almost always does, with a few police officers sitting around a table, talking about a case. No flashing lights, no sirens, and definitely no drawn service revolvers. Although when the crime happened, over twenty years ago, it had started with flashing lights, sirens, and drawn service revolvers. Nothing had helped. The case had ended badly.

  Johansson elaborated on his ideas about what ought to be done, the motive for doing it, and how it should all be arranged in practical terms. As so often before, he also relied on his personal experience without the slightest trace of either genuine or false modesty.

  “In my personal experience, when a case has come to a standstill so to speak, it’s often worth calling in some new folks who can look at the case with fresh eyes. It’s easy to overlook things,” said Johansson.

  “I hear you,” Anna Holt answered, sounding more sarcastic than she intended. “But if you’ll excuse—”

  “Sure,” Johansson interrupted. “Just let me finish my sentence first.”

  “I’m listening,” said Holt. I never learn, she thought.

  “When you’re starting to get up in years like me, unfortunately the risk increases that you don’t remember what you meant to say, if you get interrupted, that is,” Johansson explained. “Where was I now?” he continued.

  “How you intended to organize the whole thing, boss,” Mattei interjected. “Our investigation, that is,” she clarified.

  “Thanks, Lisa,” said Johansson. “Thanks for helping an old man.”

  How does he do it? thought Holt. Even with Lisa of all people?

  According to Johansson it was not a question of forming a new Palme investigation, and the investigators who were already in the Palme group—several of whom had spent almost their entire active time as detectives there—would of course retain sole responsibility.

  “So I want to make that clear from the start, Yngve,” said Johansson, nodding at the head of the Palme group, who still seemed more worried than relieved.

  “No way,” said Johansson. “You can forget any such ideas. I’ve imagined something a lot simpler and more informal. What I want simply is a second opinion. Not a new investigation. Just a second opinion from a few wise officers who can look at the case with fresh eyes.

  “I want you to go through the investigation,” he continued. “Is there anything we haven’t done that we should have done? Is there anything in the material itself that we’ve missed and that’s worth looking into? That can still be looked into? If so, I want to know about it, and it’s no more difficult than that.”

  Regardless of his hopes on the last point, the following hour was devoted to discussing objections from three of the four others in the room. The only one who didn’t say anything was Lisa Mattei, but when their meeting was over, her notepad was as full of scribbling as always. Partly with what her colleagues had said. Partly with her usual doodling regardless of what was being said.

  First up was Chief Inspector Jan Lewin, who after some introductory, cautious throat clearing quickly zeroed in on Johansson’s fundamental motive, namely the need for fresh eyes. The idea as such was excellent. He himself had advocated it often enough. Not least during his time as head of the group that dealt with so-called cold cases. But for that very reason he thought he was particularly poorly suited for this case.

  During the initial year of the investigation—while Lewin was working at the homicide squad in Stockholm—he had primary responsibility for the collection of significant portions of the material evidence. Not until the investigation was taken over by the national bureau did he return to his old assignment at the homicide squad in Stockholm. Several years later he moved over to the national bureau, and once there he had also helped on the Palme investigation for a few brief periods with the registration and review of new leads that had come in.

  “I don’t know if you remember, boss, but the investigation leader, Hans Holmér, the police chief in Stockholm at that time, collected large quantities of information that perhaps didn’t have anything directly to do with the murder itself but might prove to be of value.” Lewin nodded at Lisa Mattei, who had been only a little girl in those days.

  “I remember the police chief at that time,” said Johansson. Of unblessed memory, he thought. “Though most of what he found I’ve managed to repress. What was it that landed on your desk, Lewin?”

  At best, quite a bit of questionable value, according to Lewin.

  “All hotel registrations in the Stockholm area around the time of the murder. All arrivals into and departures from the country that could be substantiated with the usual passport and border checks, all parking violations in greater Stockholm around the time of the crime, all speeding violations and other traffic offenses in the whole country the day of the murder, the day before and the day after, all other crimes and arrests in the Stockholm area at the time of the crime. We took in everything from drunkenness and domestic disturbances to all ordinary crimes reported during the twenty-four-hour period in question. We also collected accident reports. Plus all suicides and strange causes of death that happened both before and after the murder. I know when I left the investigation they were still working on that part. As you know, it added up to quite a bit. Hundreds of pounds of paper, thousands of pages actually, and I’m only talking about what came in during my time.”

  “The broad, unbiased effort,” Johansson observed.

  “Yes, that’s what it’s called,” said Lewin. “Sometimes it works, but this time almost all of it remained unprocessed. There simply wasn’t time to do anything. I sat and skimmed through what came in, and I had my hands full just with what first jumped out at me. Ninety percent of the paperwork was basically put right back in the boxes where it had been from the start.”

  “Give me some examples,” said Johansson. “What things jumped out at you, Lewin?”

  “I remember four different suicides,” said Lewin. “The first took place only a few hours after the murder of the prime minister. I remember it in detail, because when I got the papers on my desk I actually felt some of those old vibrations you feel when things are starting to heat up.” Lewin shook his head thoughtfully.

  “The man who committed suicide had hung himself in the rec room of his house. A guard who to
ok early retirement who lived on Ekerö a few miles outside Stockholm. He was the neighbor of a police officer, so I got the tip through him. He also had a license for a handgun, to top it off a revolver that might very well have matched what we knew about the murder weapon at that time. He was generally considered strange by those who knew him. Antisocial, divorced for several years, problems with alcohol, the usual stuff. In brief, he seemed pretty good, but he had an alibi for the evening of the murder. For one thing, he’d quarreled with some neighbors who were out with their dog at about ten o’clock. Then he called his ex-wife from his home phone, a total of three times if I remember correctly, and carried on with her about the same time as Palme was shot. I had no problem ruling him out. We found his revolver in the house search. It was test fired, even though we already knew it was the wrong caliber.”