Not long ago Theo was the sort of face that former classmates would see in old school photographs and not remember his name, but that changed when the local paper shone a negative light on his politics. But how they learned his name is unimportant to Theo. As long as they know it. Opinions can be changed.

He wasn’t at the meeting where Peter was informed of the fate of Beartown Ice Hockey Club, because Richard Theo isn’t part of the establishment. All councils have a political elite that you either belong to or you don’t, and the establishment here has chosen to freeze Theo out. Naturally they claim it’s because of his politics, but he’s convinced that the real reason is that they fear him. He can get the people on his side. They call him a populist, but the only difference between him and the other parties is that he doesn’t need flags: they have their offices on the top floor of the council building and play golf with business leaders, whereas Richard Theo has his office on the ground floor. He collects his information from people who have lost their jobs rather than from the people firing them, from the people who are angry instead of the ones who are happy, so he doesn’t need flags to tell him which way the wind is blowing. While all the other politicians are running in the same direction, men like Richard Theo go the other way. And sometimes that’s how they win.

There’s a knock on his office door. It’s late, no one has seen the stranger arrive.

“There you are at last! Well? Have you finished thinking about it? Are you going to take the job?” Richard Theo asks without further ado.

The stranger stands in the doorway with a pocket containing the sheet of paper with the names of the team players on it, but Zackell’s reply is so apathetic that it’s hard to tell if it’s because of a lack of enthusiasm about the job, or life in general. “When you called me, you offered me the job of coach of Beartown Ice Hockey’s A-team. But the club’s going into receivership. And even if it weren’t, it already has a coach. And even if it didn’t, you’re still a politician rather than the club’s general manager, so unless I’ve seriously misunderstood the democratic process, you can’t offer me a job as a coach any more than you can offer me a unicorn.”

“Yet you’re still here,” Richard Theo says simply.

“I happen to be very fond of unicorns,” Zackell confesses in a way that makes it impossible to tell if the remark is supposed to be funny or not.

Theo tilts his head to one side. “Coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee. I don’t like hot drinks.”

Theo jerks as if he’s trying to avoid a dagger. “You don’t drink coffee? You’re going to have trouble fitting into this town!”

“This town isn’t alone in that,” Zackell replies.

Theo chuckles. “You’re a very strange person, Zackell.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Theo slaps his hands on his desk and stands up cheerfully. “I like that! The media will like it, too! The coaching job is yours; let me worry about the general manager. I look forward to the two of us working together.”

He looks as though he’s considering attempting a high five. Zackell looks very much as though that isn’t going to happen. “My main ambition is that you and I will never have to ‘work together.’ I’m here for the hockey, not politics.”

Theo throws his arms out brightly. “I hate hockey; you can have that all to yourself!”

Zackell’s hands are firmly embedded in the pockets of the tracksuit. “For someone who hates hockey, you seem to be very involved in it.”

Theo’s eyes narrow contentedly. “That’s because when everyone else runs the same way, I go the other way, Zackell. That’s how I win.”

10

How Do You Tell Your Children?

The lights in the law firm are switched off, except for in one office. Kira Andersson is working while her colleague is lying across two armchairs looking for package holidays on her computer.

“A package holiday? You don’t even like taking time off,” Kira points out.

Her colleague stretches like a cat that’s been told off. “I don’t. But with this body, Kira, it would be a crime against humanity if it didn’t get shown off in a bikini at least once a year!”

Kira laughs. How wonderful that her colleague can still make her do that so easily. That she has a friend like her. “Tell me when you’ve booked so I can call and warn the country in question to keep all its husbands locked away.”

Her colleague nods seriously. “And sons. And dads, if I’ve drunk enough Fernet.”

Kira smiles. Then she blinks slowly and mutters, “Thanks for being here . . .”

Her colleague shrugs her shoulders. “The Wi-Fi at home is bad.”

Which is rubbish, of course. She’s still at work because she knows Kira doesn’t want to go home early tonight and sit in an empty house waiting for Peter. She doesn’t judge, she doesn’t go on about it, she just stays behind in the only office where the lights are still on.

* * *

How wonderful to have a friend like that.

* * *

“Never love a hockey club. It can never love you back.” Peter’s mother told him that. She was softer than his dad, although sometimes Peter thinks his dad might have been softer, too, before she got sick. “Never believe you’re anything special,” his dad said. Peter evidently didn’t listen to either of them.

He’s called everyone he knows. Everyone he’s played with. Asked for advice, asked for money, asked for players to save the club. Everyone understands, everyone sympathizes, but hockey is built on statistics and figures. No one gives you anything for nothing.

His phone rings: it’s his childhood friend Tails, the supermarket owner and Beartown Ice Hockey’s last real sponsor. Tails’s voice is trembling when he says, “This is so fucked, Peter. It’s so fucking fucked . . . it . . . they’ve posted something . . .”

“What?” Peter asks.

“I wanted to call so you can stop the kids seeing it. They’ve . . . the bastards, there’s a death notice in the local paper today. Your name.”

Peter says nothing. He understands the message. You can tell yourself as much as you like that “the criticism belongs to the job” and that you “shouldn’t let it bother you.” But we’re all only human. If your name appears in a death notice, it bothers you.

“Ignore them,” Tails advises, even though he knows it’s impossible.

It might be possible to save a hockey club in Beartown even if you don’t have everyone on your side. But not if everyone’s against you.

Peter hangs up. He ought to go home, but Maya’s camping with Ana and Leo is sleeping over at a friend’s. Peter and Kira will be alone in the house, and he knows what she’s going to say. She’s going to try to persuade him to give up.

* * *

So Peter turns the Volvo around and drives. Out of Beartown, off along the road, faster and faster.

* * *

On the wall of Richard Theo’s office hangs a picture of a stork. Theo has studied statistics and knows that the simplest way to influence people’s opinions is to demonstrate a connection: bad diet leads to illness, alcohol causes road accidents, poverty generates crime. He also knows that numbers can be massaged to suit a politician’s needs.

In a book by a British statistician, Theo learned, for instance, that there are statistics showing that the number of children born each year is much greater in towns where there are storks than in towns where there aren’t many storks. “What does this prove? That storks deliver babies!” the statistician wrote sarcastically. Of course that isn’t the case; there are more storks in towns with a lot of chimneys, because that’s where they build their nests. A lot of chimneys means a lot of houses, which means more people, which means more babies.

So Richard Theo has a picture of a stork on the wall of his office to provide him with a daily reminder that whatever is happening isn’t important. The important thing is how you explain it to people.

* * *

He’s interested in other animals, too, such as bears and bulls. Like all the other children around here, he grew up knowing that those were the names of the hockey clubs, but when he started to study economics abroad, he learned a different story. On Wall Street brokers call an optimistic market with rising share prices a “bull” market, and the slow, remorseless downward movement of the market in a recession is a “bear” market. The idea is that both are necessary, that the conflict between the two keeps the economy in balance.

Richard Theo has the same idea about the hockey clubs, but his goal is to alter the balance. Because political elections are simple: When everything is going well, when people are happy, the establishment wins. But when people are angry and arguing, people like Richard Theo win. Because for an outsider to win power requires a conflict. But if there’s no conflict? You have to create one. He dials the number of an old friend in London. “Is everyone agreed?” he asks.

“Yes, everyone’s on board. But you appreciate that the new owners require certain . . . political guarantees?” his London friend says.

“They’ll get what they want. Just make sure they show up here and look happy in the pictures for the local paper,” Theo says.

“And what do you want?”