children and are eligible for child benefits and maintenance advances. Legal aid is often available in the case of court proceedings such as custody hearings.’
Annika mulled this over.
‘But,’ she said, ‘what if the stalker doesn’t give up, what do you do then? Can you help your clients get new social security numbers, the personal ID numbers we use here in Sweden, too?’
‘We have completed sixty successful removal procedures. Not a single client has had to change her identity. It hasn’t been necessary.’
Annika finished writing and relaxed her grip on her pen. This sounded really incredible. She looked up and glanced around the bar. Round tables, brass fixtures. Thick wall-to-wall carpeting, subdued make-out lighting.
Where were the holes in the story?
Annika shook her head.
‘How can you be certain that everyone who comes to you is telling the truth? They might be criminals trying to evade justice.’
Rebecka shushed her as the waiter drifted past them.
‘May I have a new glass? This one was dirty. Thank you. I understand why you would ask such a thing, but Paradise doesn’t accept people off the streets. We only accept referrals by the authorities. Our clients are sent by the police, the DA’s office, the Foreign Office, embassies, agencies working with immigrants and schools.’
Annika scratched her head. Okay.
‘But if you’re such a secret, how do you get your clients?’
The woman received her fresh glass. The ice cubes rattled.
‘So far our clients have come to us by way of contacts and recommendations. They’ve come from all over the country. Like I said, the reason we contacted you was that we felt ready to expand our operations.’
Her words hung in the air, Annika let them reverberate a few seconds.
‘Exactly how much do you charge for your services?’ she asked.
Rebecka smiled.
‘Nothing. We charge the local social welfare authorities for our time and the costs we incur while we cover our tracks. We do not profit financially. We get reimbursed for our expenses, that’s all. Even though we are a non-profit foundation we need to be paid for our efforts.’
That’s right, she said that last time.
‘How much are we talking about, in terms of money?’
The porcelain figurine bent over and pulled something out of her bag.
‘Here are some leaflets about our organization. They are rather informal, not particularly elegant, but the authorities we’ve been in contact with have all known about us in one way or another, and they’re aware of our qualifications.’
Annika took the leaflet. A post-office box number in Järfälla was listed at the top. Then there was a list of the services that Rebecka had just detailed. At the bottom Annika read: For cost estimates, please contact us at the address and number listed in the heading.
‘How much do you charge?’ Annika asked again.
Rebecka looked for something in her purse.
‘3,500 kronor a day per person. That’s a fairly modest rate for treatment. Here, have a look at this too,’ she said as she handed over another leaflet.
It contained more or less the same information, only in more detail.
‘Well,’ Rebecka said, ‘what do you think, is it worth writing about?’
Annika put the papers in her bag.
‘I can’t tell you that right now. First I have to talk to my superiors and find out if our paper wants to cover this story. Then I have to check the information you gave me with some of the authorities you’ve been in contact with. Could you possibly give me a name now?’
Rebecka thought for a minute while folding her napkin.
‘I guess,’ she said. ‘I could probably do that. But you have to realize that these cases are extremely delicate, everything is kept confidential. No one will talk about us unless I tell them it’s all right. That’s why I’d like to get back to you with a list.’
‘Sure,’ Annika said. ‘Once that’s done, I’d like to talk to a client who’s gone through your removal
Annika mulled this over.
‘But,’ she said, ‘what if the stalker doesn’t give up, what do you do then? Can you help your clients get new social security numbers, the personal ID numbers we use here in Sweden, too?’
‘We have completed sixty successful removal procedures. Not a single client has had to change her identity. It hasn’t been necessary.’
Annika finished writing and relaxed her grip on her pen. This sounded really incredible. She looked up and glanced around the bar. Round tables, brass fixtures. Thick wall-to-wall carpeting, subdued make-out lighting.
Where were the holes in the story?
Annika shook her head.
‘How can you be certain that everyone who comes to you is telling the truth? They might be criminals trying to evade justice.’
Rebecka shushed her as the waiter drifted past them.
‘May I have a new glass? This one was dirty. Thank you. I understand why you would ask such a thing, but Paradise doesn’t accept people off the streets. We only accept referrals by the authorities. Our clients are sent by the police, the DA’s office, the Foreign Office, embassies, agencies working with immigrants and schools.’
Annika scratched her head. Okay.
‘But if you’re such a secret, how do you get your clients?’
The woman received her fresh glass. The ice cubes rattled.
‘So far our clients have come to us by way of contacts and recommendations. They’ve come from all over the country. Like I said, the reason we contacted you was that we felt ready to expand our operations.’
Her words hung in the air, Annika let them reverberate a few seconds.
‘Exactly how much do you charge for your services?’ she asked.
Rebecka smiled.
‘Nothing. We charge the local social welfare authorities for our time and the costs we incur while we cover our tracks. We do not profit financially. We get reimbursed for our expenses, that’s all. Even though we are a non-profit foundation we need to be paid for our efforts.’
That’s right, she said that last time.
‘How much are we talking about, in terms of money?’
The porcelain figurine bent over and pulled something out of her bag.
‘Here are some leaflets about our organization. They are rather informal, not particularly elegant, but the authorities we’ve been in contact with have all known about us in one way or another, and they’re aware of our qualifications.’
Annika took the leaflet. A post-office box number in Järfälla was listed at the top. Then there was a list of the services that Rebecka had just detailed. At the bottom Annika read: For cost estimates, please contact us at the address and number listed in the heading.
‘How much do you charge?’ Annika asked again.
Rebecka looked for something in her purse.
‘3,500 kronor a day per person. That’s a fairly modest rate for treatment. Here, have a look at this too,’ she said as she handed over another leaflet.
It contained more or less the same information, only in more detail.
‘Well,’ Rebecka said, ‘what do you think, is it worth writing about?’
Annika put the papers in her bag.
‘I can’t tell you that right now. First I have to talk to my superiors and find out if our paper wants to cover this story. Then I have to check the information you gave me with some of the authorities you’ve been in contact with. Could you possibly give me a name now?’
Rebecka thought for a minute while folding her napkin.
‘I guess,’ she said. ‘I could probably do that. But you have to realize that these cases are extremely delicate, everything is kept confidential. No one will talk about us unless I tell them it’s all right. That’s why I’d like to get back to you with a list.’
‘Sure,’ Annika said. ‘Once that’s done, I’d like to talk to a client who’s gone through your removal
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