No one will ever need to explain exactly how a copy of the email suddenly ended up in the hands of the local paper. The reporter will refer to a “trusted source.” Once the news is out, it won’t matter where it came from.

In the end no one will be able to prove whose idea it was to get rid of the standing area at the rink.

* * *

The members of the Pack always embrace when they meet and before they part, with their fists clenched against each other’s backs. Some people see this as a sign of violence. But to them it isn’t.

* * *

Teemu Rinnius still lives at home with his mother. Police investigations have suggested that this is because he can’t get a home of his own using the illegal earnings he lives off of, and he lets everyone believe that. The truth is that he can’t leave his mother alone. Someone needs to do the counting at home. There are lots of jokes about the Rinnius brothers’ criminality, such as “What’s a triathlon for the Rinnius brothers? Walking to the swimming pool and cycling home!” and “The Rinnius brothers are sitting in a car; who’s driving? The police!” When Vidar became the goalie on the boys’ hockey team, someone in the stands joked, “Of course that family make good goalies, they can’t keep their hands off anything!” That joke was told only once. You can say what you like about the Rinnius brothers, but math was their best subject at school. They’ve been counting all their lives: How many pills are left in the bottles in the bathroom, how many hours has Mom been asleep? When Vidar got caught and was sent away, that responsibility fell to Teemu alone. It was worse then because all their mom wanted to do was sleep longer and deeper once her youngest son was taken off to the treatment center. Vidar was always her little baby, no matter what he got up to.

Teemu is sitting at her kitchen table now. She’s clattering with frying pans and saucepans, and he’s not used to it; she laughs out loud, and it’s been a long time since she last did that. When Teemu told her that Vidar was being released early, she cleaned the whole house in a rush of happiness. The next morning was the first time in years that Teemu counted the same number of pills in the bottles two days in a row.

“My baby, my baby,” his mom sings happily to herself over at the stove.

She never asked why Vidar is being released or who arranged it, but that anxiety is gnawing away at Teemu. He tells himself that he just wants the same as all simple men do: to have his little brother home, make his mom happy, live a simple life. But that isn’t true: he has to protect them, too, that’s always been his responsibility, his obsession.

“My baby, my baby, coming home to Mama!” his mom sings.

Teemu’s mind wanders off. The Pack was never as coordinated or as militarily organized as people thought. Everyone says “What pack?” or “Teemu who?” if strangers ask, but that isn’t entirely put on. He isn’t a dictator; the black jackets are basically just a group of friends who stick together because of two simple loves: hockey and each other. The politicians and board members and journalists talk an awful lot of bullshit about “hooligans” when it suits their purposes, but those greedy bastards don’t love the club or the town the way the members of the Pack do.

Teemu’s two best friends, Spider and Woody, can fight like wild animals. But they never attack innocent people, and when the worst storm in a century hit the forest a few years ago, those two were the guys who went from house to house clearing trees from gardens and mending roofs and windows without asking for any form of payment. Where were the journalists and board members then? Police investigations describe Woody and Spider as gang members, but to this day they can’t walk past any of those houses without being invited in for coffee. Teemu isn’t a child, he knows his guys haven’t got hearts of gold. But they have honor. Their own sort.

Spider was bullied as a child, never wanted to shower after PE, so a gang of boys in his class thought that meant he was gay. They threw him into the shower and beat the crap out of him with twisted wet towels. “Gay” was the worst insult they could think of, the weakest thing a boy could be. So Spider has hated two things ever since: gays and bullies.

After an away game six or seven years ago, the Pack got stopped by the cops. Teemu’s little brother, Vidar, who was only twelve at the time, was sitting alone in a branch of McDonald’s, and a gang of opposing fans were on their way there. When Spider realized that, he tore free from the police. Dogs, horses, and a rapid response unit were unable to stop him. He and Vidar held off ten of their opponents inside McDonald’s for twenty minutes. Spider landed four people in hospital, and twelve-year-old Vidar smashed a chair and used the legs as weapons. A warrior even then.

Woody is different. He comes from a nuclear family, lives on the edge of the Heights, works in his dad’s business. But he has the same things inside him as Spider. When Woody was a teenager, his cousin was raped by some lowlife when she was on holiday. When Teemu found out, he stole a car, drove through the night, and got to the airport just in time to stop Woody from getting onto a plane, because Woody was planning to go and take on the whole country. He sobbed with rage in Teemu’s arms, his fists clenched behind his back.

Woody has a girlfriend now, she has a good job in administration at the council’s housing association, and they’ve just had a daughter. It was Woody who persuaded Teemu that the Pack should take Maya Andersson’s side in the spring rather than Kevin Erdahl’s. “I don’t care if we end up in the lowest league on the planet, I’ll stand in that rink anyway, but I’m not standing up for a rapist!” he said. The Pack made a decision then, and now they’re dealing with the consequences.

They voted to keep Peter Andersson in the club, and now they’ve heard that the rat has brought in sponsors who want to get rid of the standing area. Teemu’s phone hasn’t stopped ringing. The guys want war.

* * *

“But I don’t understand why my baby can’t live at home with his own mother!” Teemu’s mother suddenly repeats, and he is wrenched from his daydreams.

“What?” Teemu mutters.

His mom tosses an envelope from the council’s housing association on the table. “It says in that letter that Vidar’s got an apartment of his own! What’s the point of that? He’s got a mother!”

* * *

Only then do the pieces of the puzzle fall into place for Teemu.

* * *

When the man in a suit comes out of the council building and opens the door of his car, the figure is suddenly standing behind him. Richard Theo is alarmed but not surprised. He collects himself quickly and asks, “Who are you?”

Teemu Rinnius takes two steps forward. He doesn’t lay a finger on him, but he’s close enough for them to feel each other’s breath, meaning that the politician feels physical fear. That afflicts all of us, those of us who can’t fight, it doesn’t matter if we have money or power or know that a courtroom could give us justice. No one can protect us in a dark parking lot for the few seconds it takes a man like Teemu to assault us and knock us out. We know that. As does he. So he says, “You know who I am. My little brother, Vidar, has been locked up, but now he’s suddenly being released. I didn’t understand why, but then I heard that Beartown Ice Hockey’s new coach wants him on the team. No hockey club could get my brother out of that clinic. But perhaps a politician could?”

Richard Theo’s pulse rate speeds up, but he manages to keep his voice steady. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Teemu looks at him ominously, but eventually he backs away and gives the politician some air. He raises a warning finger, to let the politician know that he isn’t the only person in Beartown who’s good at gathering information.

“My mom got a letter from the council’s housing association. My brother’s been given an apartment. We checked to see who filed the application. It was you.”

Theo nods. “It’s my job to help the town’s inhabitants. All of them . . .”

The fact that Theo’s address appeared in the housing association’s register could, of course, have been a mistake. Unless it was a message that he assumed Teemu would eventually find. After all, his friend Woody does have a girlfriend who works in the offices of the housing association.

Teemu snarls, “I’m the wrong person to play games with! What do you want with my family?”

Richard Theo plays dumb. Which is brave of him. “I’m not the sort of man who asks people for things. Especially not people who belong to . . . what are you called again? The Pack?”

“What pack?” Teemu asks.

His face doesn’t even harden; he’s had years to practice that fake nonchalance, and it impresses the politician. So Theo raises his hands and says, “Okay, I confess. I know who you are. And I think you and I can be friends, Teemu.”