Free Buzz: A Thriller by Anders de La Motte

the contrary.” He gestured toward the others in the room.
    “We all know what it’s like when the adrenaline kicks in. You get tunnel vision and focus on individual details that really need to be seen in a broader context. A cell phone becomes a hand grenade, a camera becomes a revolver . . . That sort of thing has happened before. Could that have been what happened in this case, Rebecca?”
    She opened her mouth to reply, but Runeberg put his hand on her knee. Clearly she had underestimated the kindly uncle. Even if he wrapped things up nicely, he was still the one trying to trick her into making some kind of admission.
    She took a deep breath.
    “It really isn’t my place to comment on what anyone else saw or didn’t see. I can only speak for myself,” she said as calmly as she could, and noticed Walthers’s friendly smile slowly fade away.
    “I saw an attacker and a weapon, a clear danger to both our charge and my team, so I responded accordingly in line with my duty.”
    She gave Runeberg a quick sideways glance and was rewarded with a nod of encouragement. Disappointed, Walthers looked down at his papers and Westergren took over.
    “What’s your response to the fact that people died at the scene, Normén? In all likelihood as a direct consequence of your dubious actions . . .”
    Rebecca jerked. She had realized that people must have been hurt, possibly even killed when the soldiers opened fire—but having it thrown in her face like this was an entirely different matter. To judge from the expression on Westergren’s face, he didn’t care if he’d crossed a boundary.
    “Once again . . .” she said, as calmly as she could even though her anger was bubbling closer and closer to the surface. “I made my evaluation based upon the threat to my team and the person in my charge. I can’t take responsibility for what anyone else did or didn’t do.”
    “So you’re saying you don’t care that people were being killed around you?”
    “Of course I’m not!” she snapped, but before she could go on Runeberg interrupted her.
    “Where are you trying to get with these questions, Westergren?”
    The two men stared at each other.
    “Interview witnesses must stay silent during interviews,” Walthers piped up from the side, but neither of them looked at him.
    “I’m interested in whether or not Police Inspector Normén really understands that one of the consequences of her questionable actions was that people died. That she directly or indirectly caused their deaths by provoking the soldiers to open fire.”
    “That’s out of order, Per . . .”
    “Is it really, Ludvig ? Maybe you should pay a bit more attention to the sections of the penal code dealing with misuse of office instead of spending so much time in the gym?”
    Runeberg slowly stood up, and Westergren did the same.
    “Okay, let’s all just calm down,” Walthers quacked. He stood up as well and, with some difficulty, placed himself between the two men.
    “Interview suspended at 09:51 for a short break.”
    ♦  ♦  ♦
    He had spent something like three days in this cell. At least he thought he had. Sleeping on the wooden bunk, shitting in a bucket, and trying to pass the time as best he could. And obviously he was so desperate for a cigarette he felt he was going to explode. But at least he had been given some clothes.
    A white T-shirt and a pair of orange overalls that were at least two sizes too small.
    During the first few hours he had quite literally shat himself in terror, but as he gradually came around and ate and drank something, the fog began to disperse and he started to piece a few things together.
    He had been seriously doped up when the cops arrestedhim, and now they had also worked out his passport was fake. But even if both crimes were pretty serious down here, they still didn’t quite warrant this sort of treatment.
    There was something that didn’t make sense . . .
    ♦  ♦  ♦
    “What the hell