Red Wolf_ A Novel - Liza Marklund [48]
He breathed out, smiled, surprised that she had known what he was thinking.
‘Good,’ he whispered back, looking into her eyes. They were a strikingly bright blue.
‘How do you feel today?’ she whispered back. ‘A bit hungover?’
He grinned. ‘One thing’s for sure,’ he said quietly. ‘You can’t be hungover. You look absolutely great.’
She lowered her eyes, he could have sworn she was blushing, then he heard his own words as an echo, realized their meaning, and started to blush himself.
‘I mean . . .’ he said, stepping back.
She looked up, took a step forward to keep pace with him, and put her arm on his coat.
‘It’s fine, Thomas,’ she whispered, so close that he could feel her breath.
He looked into her eyes for a few seconds, then turned away, pulling off his scarf and putting his briefcase on a bench, opening it and putting the scarf inside. Wondered if his ears were still bright red.
‘I’ve handed out the brochures,’ she said. ‘I hope that was okay.’
He stiffened slightly, looking down at the pack of brochures he had planned to hand out. Now the whole initiative, which was partly his responsibility, looked like it had come from Sophia and the Federation of County Councils.
He shut his briefcase.
‘Of course,’ he said shortly, feeling his smile stiffen. ‘You can tell your webmaster to get in touch with ours, because we’ve got the content online, and it would make sense if you did too.’
She twisted her fingers nervously and showed him to the conference room.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I know.’
Per Cramne, the representative from the Ministry of Justice, stood up as he entered the room, and hurried over to greet him.
‘I really must apologize about yesterday,’ he said. ‘It’s these damn EU elections . . .’
Thomas put his briefcase on the table and raised both hands. ‘No problem. We had other things to discuss anyway. The Association of Local Councils and the Federation of County Councils have a congress in the spring, we’re discussing a possible merger, and I’m in the planning group, so . . .’
He realized his mistake too late. Cramne had already glazed over, couldn’t care less about any merger.
‘Is everyone here?’ Cramne said, turning away. ‘Let’s get going then. It is Friday, after all.’
Thomas took out his documents, refusing to look round to see if anyone had witnessed the embarrassing incident.
Cramne began, of course; the Ministry of Justice was always top of the hierarchy. Then Thomas stood up and presented the information they’d put together, specifying the arguments why unknown threats against politicians were a real danger to democracy, outlining the proposed changes.
‘I believe we need to investigate public opinion,’ he concluded. ‘This is a problem that concerns everyone. Not just every politician, but every citizen. We have to make it clear that this is a broader issue. How does society regard such violence and threats of violence against our politicians? What values do we apply to attempts to silence them? And can we change those values with a public information campaign?’
He turned over a sheet of paper, aware that he had the complete attention of the group.
‘I think we should try to instigate a debate in the press,’ he said, ‘try to influence public opinion the old-fashioned way. Articles that show local politicians as heroes for our time, examples of people battling right-wing extremists and anarchists in small towns, but without exaggerating the threat and scaring off people just starting out in politics . . .’
The decision to set up a research group to look into this, under Thomas’s leadership, was swiftly taken.
Thomas concluded the meeting with an anecdote about a councillor from Jämtland that always got a laugh, then they packed up, the meeting was dissolved, and within minutes the others had all vanished.
It was Friday afternoon, after all.
He was left standing with his papers, sorting his notes as Sophia collected the material the delegates had left behind. He wasn’t sure how to handle the fact that he had ignored her and taken the credit for the whole initiative. The folder was just as much