Last Will by Liza Marklund

it,” she said, sounding tired. “Caroline has been one of the foremost immunologists in Europe since the late 1980s, even if people didn’t always recognize that here in Sweden.”
    “What sort of research did she do?”
    “She made her breakthrough with an article in Science in October 1986, to great acclaim from the entire scientific community. What she did was to develop Hood and Tonegawa’s discovery of the identification of immunoglobulin genes.”
    Birgitta Larsén looked at Annika, checking for some sign that she was keeping up. Annika was unable to oblige.
    “T-cell receptors, you know,” the woman said, “which Tonegawa went on to get the Nobel Prize for.”
    Annika nodded, even though she really had no idea, and scribbled frantically in her notebook hood tonigawa imuglobal tcell recept .
    “And you stayed good friends?”
    Birgitta Larsén looked up at the artwork, The Mirror, and Annika noticed that her puffed eyes were filling with fresh tears.
    “Always,” she said, pulling out her handkerchief again. “I think perhaps I knew her better than anyone.”
    Annika looked down at her notebook and knew that she couldn’t back away now, she had to go on, had to get as much information as she could out of this crying, shocked woman.
    “What was she like, as a person?”
    Birgitta Larsén laughed suddenly.
    “Vain,” she said loudly. “Caroline was born Andersson, she got the von Behring from her first husband. She kept the name when she married Knut, a name like Hjalmarsson won’t open any doors for you in the medical world, you know, whereas von Behring, on the other hand, ha! She was very happy for people to think she was related to old Emil. You know about his discovery of serum and vaccines?”
    Annika nodded, yes, she knew about that.
    “No children, of course, but you know that,” the woman went on. “Not that Carrie had anything against children, she’d have been happy if any had come along, but it never happened and I don’t think she minded. Does that sound strange?”
    Annika took a deep breath before answering, but the professor went on:
    “Carrie lived for her work, and she was a true feminist. She always made sure that women were promoted around her, even if it wasn’t exactly something she went round boasting about. If she had, she’d never have been appointed chair of the Committee—you can see that, can’t you?”
    Annika carried on nodding.
    “Obviously it was tough sometimes, always trying to stand up for women but never being able to fight openly for them, because if she had her position would have been at risk, and she couldn’t let that happen, could she? She was worth more as an example than as a fighter, I think most people would agree with that …”
    Birgitta Larsén fell silent and looked out the window again. It was now completely dark.
    “How did Caroline take the criticism of the decision to award the prize to Wiesel and Watson?”
    The woman replied in an expressionless tone of voice.
    “Carrie was the one who pushed through the award for their work. She knew that the whole Assembly would end up in hot water, but she went ahead anyway.”
    “Do you think the attack could have had anything to do with the prize?”
    Birgitta Larsén stared at Annika like she’d never seen her before.
    “What did you say?” she said, her face hardening.
    Annika felt suddenly clumsy and gulped.
    “Or do you think it was purely an accident? That Wiesel was the target and Caroline just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
    The professor stood up with a little jerk and stared at Annika.
    “I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating,” she said sharply, with tears in her eyes again. “Would you go now, please?”
    “What did I say wrong?” Annika asked, astonished. “Have I upset you?”
    “Will you please leave this building!”
    Annika gathered her things.
    “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me,” she said, but the woman had turned away