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“Toilets,” Cortez repeated.

“You want to run a story on toilets? In Millennium?”

Eriksson could not help laughing. She had observed his ill-concealed enthusiasm when he sauntered into the Friday meeting, and she recognized all the signs of a reporter who had a story in the works.

“Explain.”

“It’s really quite simple,” Cortez said. “The biggest industry in Sweden by far is construction. It’s an industry that in practice cannot be outsourced overseas, even if Skanska Construction opens an office in London and stuff like that. No matter what, the houses have to be built in Sweden.”

“But that’s nothing new.”

“No, but what is new is that the construction industry is a couple of light-years ahead of all other Swedish industries when it comes to competition and efficiency. If Volvo built cars the same way, the latest model would cost about one, maybe even two million kronor. For most of industry, cutting prices is the constant challenge. For the construction industry it’s the opposite. The price per square metre keeps going up. The state subsidizes the cost with taxpayers’ money just so that the prices aren’t prohibitive.”

“Is there a story in that?”

“Wait. It’s complicated. Let’s say the price curve for hamburgers had been the same since the ’70s – so a Big Mac would cost about 150 kronor or more. I don’t want to guess what it would cost with fries and a Coke, but my salary at Millennium might not cover it. How many people around this table would go to McDonald’s and buy a burger for 100 kronor?”

Nobody said a word.

“Understandable. But when N.C.C. bangs together some sheet-metal cubes for exclusive rental at Gåshaga on Lidingö, they ask 10– 12,000 kronor a month for a three-cube apartment. How many of you are paying that much?”

“I couldn’t afford it,” Nilsson said.

“No, of course not. But you already live in a one-bedroom apartment by Danvikstull which your father bought for you twenty years ago, and if you were to sell it you’d probably get a million and a half for it. But what does a twenty-year-old do who wants to move out of the family home? They can’t afford to. So they sublet or sub-sublet or they live at home with their mothers until they retire.”

“So where do the toilets come into the picture?” Malm said.

“I’m getting to that. The question is, why are apartments so bloody expensive? Because the people commissioning the buildings don’t know how to set the price. To put it simply, a developer calls up Skanska Construction and says that they want a hundred apartments and asks what it will cost. And Skanska calculates it and comes back and says it’ll cost around 500 million kronor. Which means that the price per square metre will be X kronor and it would cost 10,000 a month if you wanted to move in. But unlike the McDonald’s example, you don’t really have a choice – you have to live somewhere. So you have to pay the going rate.”

“Henry, dear … please get to the point.”

“But that is the point. Why should it cost 10,000 a month to live in those crappy dumps in Hammarbyhamnen? Because the construction companies don’t give a damn about keeping prices down. The customer’s going to have to pay, come what may. One of the big costs is building materials. The trade in building materials goes through wholesalers who set their own prices. Since there isn’t any real competition there, a bathtub retails at 5,000 kronor in Sweden. The same bathtub from the same manufacturer retails at 2,000 kronor in Germany. There is no added cost that can satisfactorily explain the price difference.”

There was impatient muttering around the table.

“You can read about a lot of this in a report from the government’s Construction Cost Delegation, which was active in the late ’90s. Since then not much has happened. No-one is talking to the construction companies about the unreasonable prices. The buyers cheerfully pay what they are told it costs, and in the end the price burden falls on the renters or the taxpayers.”

“Henry, the toilets?”

“The little that has changed