Shortly after ten, Ronn telephoned, and after a great deal of to-ing and fro-ing managed to get hold of Gunvald Larsson. 'Hi, it's Einar.' 'Is everything ready now?' 'Yes, I think so.'

'Good, Einar. You must be exhausted.' 'Yes, I must admit I am. And what about you?' 'About as bright as a slaughtered pig,' said Gunvald Larsson. 'I never got to bed last night'

'I've had about two hours' sleep.'

'Better than nothing. Be careful as h.e.l.l now, won't you?'

'Yes. You too.'

Gunvald Larsson said nothing to Ronn about Heydt, partly because far too many outsiders were within earshot, but also because the information would only have served to make Ronn even more nervous than he was already.

Gunvald Larsson pushed his way over to the window, demonstratively turning his back on the others, and stared out All he could see was the new police super-headquarters under construction and a tiny sliver of a grey and dismal sky. The weather was about what could be expected: temperature about freezing point, a north-easterly wind and repeated showers of sleet Not especially encouraging for the gigantic number of police on duty out of doors, but hardly encouraging for demonstrators, either.

By half-past ten, Martin Beck had managed to extract his three remaining colleagues from the melee and pilot them into one of the nearby rooms, where Gunvald Larsson at once locked the door and took all the telephone receivers off their hooks.

Martin Beck made a very short statement: 'Only the four of us know that Reinhard Heydt is in town, and that in all likelihood a complete trained terrorist unit is also here.

Do any of you think that these facts should in any way alter our plans?'

No one replied, until Melander took his pipe out of his mouth and said, 'As far as I can see, this is the very situation we always reckoned on. So I can't see why we should revise our plan at this stage.'

'What sort of risk are Ronn and his men running?' asked Skacke. 'A pretty considerable one,' said Martin Beck. 'That's my personal view.'

Only Gunvald Larsson said something off the point 'If this d.a.m.ned Heydt or any of his gang get out of this country alive, I'll take it as a personal defeat Whether they blow this American to pieces or not' 'Or shoot him,' said Skacke.

'It should be impossible to shoot him,' said Melander placidly. 'All the long-range security is designed to prevent precisely that On the occasions when he appears outside the bulletproof car, he will have a strong protective guard of policemen with automatics and bulletproof protection. All the areas concerned have been searched continually according to the plan since midnight last night'

'And at the banquet this evening?' said Gunvald Larsson suddenly. 'Are they serving the b.a.s.t.a.r.d champagne in bulletproof gla.s.ses?'

Only Martin Beck laughed, not loudly, but heartily, and was himself surprised that he could laugh in such a situation.

Melander said patiently, 'The banquet is Moller's business. If I've got the plan right, then practically every person on duty at Stallmastaregrden this evening will be an armed security man.'

'And the food?' said Gunvald Larsson. 'Is Moller going to cook it himself?'

'The chef and cooks are reliable and will also be searched and carefully supervised.'

There was a moment's silence. Melander puffed on his pipe, Gunvald Larsson opened the window, letting in the icy wind plus a little rain and snow and the normal dose of oil s.m.u.ts and industrial fumes.

'I have one more question,' said Martin Beck. 'Do any of you think we ought to warn the chief of Security that Heydt, and probably also a ULAG unit, are in Stockholm?'

Gunvald Larsson spat contemptuously out of the window.

Again it was Melander who provided a logical summary.

'Getting that information at the last moment won't alter Eric Moller's or the close-range-security plans for the better, will it? Probably the other way around; there might be confusion and contradictory orders. The close-range-protection people are already organized and quite aware of their task.'

'Okay,' said Martin Beck. 'As you know, there are a few details - more than a few - that only we four and Ronn have the slightest idea about If things go wrong, we'll be the ones to bear the brunt'

'I've no objection to that,' said Skacke.

Gunvald Larsson again spat contemptuously out of the window.

Melander nodded to himself. He had been a policeman for thirty-four years and would soon be fifty-five. He had quite a lot to lose by suspension or possible dismissal.

'No,' he said finally. 'I can't say like Benny that I've no objection. But I'm prepared to take calculated risks. This is one.'

Gunvald Larsson looked at his watch. Martin Beck followed his glance and said, 'Yes, it'll soon be time.'

'Shall we stick strictly to the plan?' Gunvald Larsson asked.

'Yes, as long as the situation doesn't suddenly change in some dramatic way. I'll leave that to your own judgement'

Skacke nodded. Martin Beck said, 'Gunvald and I will take one of the really fast police cars, a Porsche, because we'll have to be able to pa.s.s along the motorcade quickly, and even swing back if necessary.'

There were no more than half a dozen of those black-and-white miracles of speed.

'You two, Benny and Fredrik, go in the radio vans. Place yourselves at the head of the motorcade, between the motorcycle escort and the bulletproof limousine. There you'll have a chance to follow both radio and television, and also to check with our own radio. Apart from the driver, you've also got a radio location expert who's supposed to be the best,'

'Good,' said Melander.

They returned to their own base, where there was now no one but the chief of the Stockholm Police. He was standing in front of the mirror combing his hair with great care. Then he eyed his tie, which as usual was of plain coloured silk. Today it was pale yellow.

The telephone rang. Skacke answered. After a brief, incomprehensible conversation, he put down the receiver and said, 'That was Sapo-Moller. He was expressing his surprise.'

'Get a move on, Benny,' said Martin Beck.

'He was astounded that one of his own men was on the commando section list'

'What the h.e.l.l's the commando section?' said Gunvald Larsson.

'The man's name is Victor Paulsson. It seems Moller was here this morning and s.n.a.t.c.hed the CS list He says he needed the group for an important close-range-security a.s.signment He simply placed his man Paulsson on the list, so from now on it's under his command.'

'By all the G.o.ds and saints in h.e.l.l!' cried Gunvald Larsson. 'No, it just d.a.m.ned well can't be true! He's pinched the idiot list! The clod squad. The noughts and crosses players! The ones who were to be confined to station duty!'

'Well, he's got them now,' said Skacke. 'And he didn't say where he was calling from.'

'You mean he thought your abbreviation for "clod squad" stood for "commando section''?' said Martin Beck.

'No!' said Gunvald Larsson, thumping his forehead with his fist 'It just can't be! Did he say what he wanted to use them for?'

'Just that it was an important a.s.signment' 'Like guarding the King?'

'If it concerns the King, then we've still got time to fix it' said Martin Beck. 'Otherwise...'

'Otherwise we can't do a d.a.m.ned thing,' said Gunvald Larsson, 'because now we must go. h.e.l.l's blasted bells! G.o.ddammit!'

When they were in the car and driving through town, he added, 'It was my own fault Why didn't I write it out - IDIOT LIST? Why didn't I lock it up in my desk?'

The escort vehicles went separately to the airport Gunvald Larsson chose to-take the route via Kungsgatan and Sveavagen to get an overall view. There were a great many uniformed police about, as well as many in civilian clothes, mostly detectives and police officers from the country. Behind them were already a number of demonstrators with placards and banners, and an even larger number of ordinary curious spectators.

On the edge of the pavement in front of the Rialto cinema, opposite the city library, stood a person whom Martin Beck knew well and whose presence astonished him. The man was not large for a policeman, and had a weatherbeaten face and short bowlegs. He was wearing a duffle coat and grey-brown-green-striped tapering trousers, the bottoms tucked into long green wellies. On the back of his head perched a safari hat of indefinite colour. No one would have guessed he was a policeman.

'Stop a moment, will you?' said Martin Beck. 'By that guy in the lion-hunter's hat'

'Who is it?' said Gunvald Larsson, braking. 'A secret agent or chief of the Korpilombolo Security Service?'

'His name is Allwright,' said Martin Beck. 'Herrgott Allwright He's a police inspector in Anderslov, a place between Malmo and Ystad in the Trelleborg police district. What the h.e.l.l is he doing here?'

'Maybe he's planning to hunt moose in Humlegrden,' said Gunvald Larsson, stopping the car.

Martin Beck opened the door and said, 'Herrgott?'

Allwright looked at him in astonishment. Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed at the brim of his safari hat, so that it came right down over one of his lively eyes.

'What are you doing here, Herrgott?'

'Don't know, really. I was flown up early this morning in a charter plane full of policemen from Malmo, Ystad, Lund and Trelleborg. Then they put me here. I don't even know where I am.'

'You're at the corner of odengatan and Sveavgen,' said Martin Beck.'The escort's coming this way, if all goes well.'

'A moment ago a drunk came along and asked me to go in the shop and buy alcohol for him. I suppose he's been barred. I must look like a real yokel'

'You look in top form,' said Martin Beck.

'Lord save us, what weather!' said Allwright. 'And what a grisly place.'

'Are you armed?'

'Yes, had orders to be.' He loosened his coat and revealed a large revolver clipped to the belt of his trousers, just as Gunvald Larsson liked to wear his, though he preferred an automatic.

'Are you running this circus?' said Allwright.

Martin Beck nodded and said, 'And what happens in Anderslov while you're away?'

'Oh, it'll be okay. Evert Johansson's taken over, and everyone knows I'm coming back the day after tomorrow, so no one will dare do anything. Anyhow, nothing's happened in Anderslov since that business a year ago. When you were there.'

'You treated me to a fantastic dinner,' said Martin Beck. 'Would you like to have dinner with me this evening?'

'That time we hunted pheasants?' Allwright laughed, then answered the question. 'Yes, I would. It's just that I keep getting lots of peculiar orders. I'm supposed to sleep in some empty house, with seventeen others. Quarters, they said. Dear Lord, I don't know.'

'It'll be okay,' said Martin Beck. 'I'll have a word with the chief of the regular police. At the moment he's actually my subordinate. You've got my number and address, haven't you?'- 'Yep,' said Allwright, patting one of his back pockets. 'Who's that guy in there?' He peered inquisitively at Gunvald Larsson, who did not react at all.

'His name's Gunvald Larsson. He usually works in the Violent Crimes Squad.'

'Poor devil,' said Allwright. 'I've heard about him. What a job. Very big man for such a small car, by the way. Herrgott Allwright's my name. It's a silly name, but I've gotten used to it, and at home in Anderslov no one laughs any more.'

'We have to go now,' said Gunvald Larsson.

'Okay,' said Martin Beck. "Then we'll see you at my place tonight. If there's any mix-up, we'll call each other.'

'Great,' said Allwright 'But do you think anything special will happen?'

'It's pretty certain that something will happen, but it's hard to say just what'

'Mmm,' said Allwright 'I just hope it doesn't happen to me.'

They said their farewells and drove off. Gunvald Larsson drove fast; the car was made for high speeds.

'He seemed okay,' Gunvald Larsson commented. 'I didn't think there were any cops like him left.'

'We've got one or two. But not many.'

At Norrtull, Martin Beck said, 'Where's Ronn?'

'Well hidden. But I'm a bit worried about him.'

'Ronn's okay,' said Martin Beck.

The whole route was lined with policemen, and beyond them, spread along the route, were what the police calculated to be ten thousand demonstrators, a figure which was probably a gross underestimate. Thirty thousand was more likely.

As they drove up to the international-arrivals building they saw the plane, just about to land. The operation had begun.

Over the police radio, they heard a metallic voice: 'All radio units are to observe signal Q from now on. I repeat: Signal Q to be observed until counter-orders given. Only instructions from Chief Inspector Beck will be forwarded. They are not to be answered.'

Signal Q was highly unusual. It involved total silence on the police radio.

'h.e.l.l, I didn't have time to shower or change,' said Gunvald Larsson. 'That's that d.a.m.ned Heydt's fault.'

Martin Beck glanced over at his colleague and noticed that Gunvald Larsson nevertheless looked considerably better than he did himself.

Gunvald Larsson parked outside the terminal. The plane was not quite down yet Despite everything that had happened, they had plenty of time. At least several minutes.

20.

The shining aluminium jet landed twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds early. Then it taxied over to the place that Eric Moller had personally designated as not dangerous.

The mechanical steps were lowered and, still twelve minutes, thirty-seven seconds ahead of schedule, the Senator stepped out of the cabin. He was a tall, sunburnt man with a winning smile and sparkling white teeth.

He looked around the desolate airfield and scrubby forest surrounding it. Then he raised his white ten-gallon hat and waved gaily at the demonstrators and policemen on the spectators' terrace.

Maybe his sight's bad, thought Gunvald Larsson, and he thinks it says 'Long Live the Next President' on the placards and banners, instead of 'Yankee Go Home' and 'Motherf.u.c.king Murderer'. Maybe he thinks those portraits of Mao and Lenin are pictures of himself, although the likeness isn't especially great.