“Einar Rönn’s room was at the rear of the central police building on Kungsholmsgatan. From the window he had a view out over an immense hole in the ground – out of which the gigantic showy building of the National Police Board would in due course rise up and obscure the view. From this ultramodern colossus in the heart of Stockholm the police would extend their tentacles in every direction and hold the dispirited citizens of Sweden in an iron grip. At least some of them. After all, they couldn’t all emigrate or commit suicide.”
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