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The scene is already repeating on the screen. Joona’s taut shoulder, the fluid movement forward, his eye lining up with the sights as the trigger is pulled.

‘Pretty damn impressive,’ the group commander says, setting his palms down on the table.

‘For a cop,’ Joona concludes.

They laugh, lean back, and the group commander scratches the tip of his nose as he blushes.

Joona Linna accepts a glass of water. He doesn’t yet know that what he fears most is about to flare up like a firestorm. He doesn’t yet have any idea of the little spark drifting towards the great lagoon of petrol.

Joona Linna is at Karlsborg Fortress to instruct the Special Operations Group in close combat. Not because he’s a trained instructor, but because he has more practical experience of the techniques they need to learn than just about anyone else in Sweden. When Joona was eighteen he did his military service at Karlsborg as a paratrooper, and was immediately recruited after basic training to a special unit for operations that couldn’t be solved by conventional forces or weaponry.