“What does that mean?”
“We share an interest in the Swedish Minister of Defence and some of his past dealings.”
Camilla felt her energy returning. “Good,” she said. “Then I suggest you get moving.”
* * *
—
Rebecka had not yet managed to digest the information, but she did not allow herself time to do so. She could see that there was worse to come.
“We’ve now understood that Engelman deliberately chose Grankin’s expedition for his wife because he was convinced that Viktor was one of them,” Kowalski went on. “But Grankin had been investigating the syndicate and was by now an angry man. I believe that Johannes, with his talent for building trust, had got him to the point where he wanted to talk: He had sowed the seed, so to speak. I think Klara simply carried on where Johannes left off.”
“What do you mean?”
“Klara got Viktor to share what was on his mind. I think they egged each other on. She told him what a swine her husband was behind closed doors, and Viktor contributed accounts of Stan’s activities in Zvezda Bratva.”
“Love made them want to share,” she said.
“Yes, maybe that’s how it was. At least, that is Johannes’s theory. But it doesn’t in the end matter so much. What was important was that it leaked out and made its way to Manhattan—however careful they tried to be.”
“Did someone spill the beans?”
“Your poor unfortunate Sherpa.”
“Don’t tell me.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Nima would surely never have betrayed them?”
“I don’t think he saw it that way,” Kowalski said. “He’d been paid extra to look after Klara and report what she got up to at Base Camp. He probably felt he was doing his job.”
“How much had he found out?”
“We don’t know for sure, but it was enough to put him in danger later on. I’ll get to that. We do know that Engelman somehow heard about the love affair, and that alone aroused a great deal of anger and suspicion, and there were others who obliged with more information so that, in the end, Stan knew exactly what was at stake. Not only his marriage, but also his future as a businessman. Possibly even his days as a free man.”
“Who was responsible for the other leaks?”
“I’m sure you can guess,” Kowalski said. “But you asked about Nima Rita and how he could possibly have passed anything on. Don’t forget that he was worried and angry, like so many other Sherpas that year.”
“Was it to do with his religious beliefs?” she said.
“Yes, and also his wife, Luna. Klara had treated her badly, hadn’t she? Nima had his own reasons for not feeling any loyalty towards her.”
“That’s not fair to him, Janek,” Forsell said. “Nima didn’t have it in for anyone. He was like Viktor. He had divided loyalties. People told him: Do this, do that. He ended up carrying everything on his shoulders and was given orders and counterorders, and in the end it broke him. He had much too heavy a load, and yet it was he and none of the others who suffered pangs of conscience.”
“Sorry, Johannes, I only experienced it at a distance, so to speak. It’s perhaps better if you take over now,” Kowalski said.
“I’m not sure that I want to,” Forsell said, sounding cross.
“You promised,” Rebecka said.
“I did. But I’ll be extremely upset if Nima is made to take the blame for this. He had more than his fair share of pain.”
“There you are, Rebecka. Johannes is a good man, don’t let anyone tell you anything different. He’ll always stand up for the weak,” Kowalski said.
“So your relationship with Nima was really as good as it seemed?” she said.
She could hear how apprehensive she sounded.
“Maybe even too good when it came to the crunch,” he said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Let me explain,” Forsell said, and he fell silent.
“Well, tell us then.”
“I will,” he said, “and you know most of it already. Maybe I ought to begin by saying that Viktor’s and my relationship had deteriorated by the time we set off for the summit, and I’m pretty sure it had to do with Stan Engelman. I think Viktor was afraid that, by some roundabout route, the connection between us would be leaked to the GRU and Zvezda Bratva. His days would then be numbered for sure, so I kept myself to myself. The last thing I wanted was to worry anybody. We were to be a safe haven, nothing else, and, as you know, Becka, we all set out from Camp Four just after midnight on May 13. The conditions looked perfect.”
“But you were slowed down.”
“Yes, Klara began to struggle and so did Mads Larsen, and maybe Viktor was not a hundred percent either. But that wasn’t really on my mind then. I noticed that Svante was irritable and was pushing me. He wanted us to make for the summit on our own. Otherwise we’d miss our chance, he said, and in the end Viktor let us do it. Maybe he was thankful to be rid of me. We set off, so were unaware of the catastrophe that engulfed our expedition. We simply tramped on and made the summit in good time. But on the climb down from the Hillary Step, I began to have trouble. The sky was still clear then, and there was not too much of a wind. We had plenty of oxygen and fluid. But time was ticking by, and—”
“And suddenly you heard a rumble, a bang.”
“We heard thunder out of a clear blue sky. Then the storm hit us from the north, like a tsunami. We lost visibility in an instant. The temperature plummeted. It was unbearably cold and we staggered along. Several times I sank to my knees, and often Svante came over, reached out a hand and helped me to my feet. But our progress became slower and slower and the hours raced by. It was late afternoon and then evening, and we worried about darkness falling, and I remember collapsing again and thinking it was all over. But just then I saw…something blue and red in front of me, indistinct shapes, and I prayed that it would be the tents in Camp Four, or at least some other climbers who could help us. That gave me hope, and as I got to my feet I saw that it wasn’t anything good, quite the contrary. It was two bodies lying close together in the snow, one smaller than the other.”
“You never told me this.”
“No, Becka, I haven’t, and this is where the nightmare begins. I still find it hard to describe. I was so exhausted. I simply could not go on. I just wanted to lie down and die and that’s why I had the feeling I was staring at my own fate. But my own fear was more real than what I saw before me, and it never crossed my mind that they might be people I knew, I just assumed they were some of those hundreds of dead lying up there. I stood up, tore off my oxygen mask and said that we had to hurry down, get away, and I started walking, or at least I took a step. But then I was overcome by a strange feeling.”