The door of the plane opened and a man in white came out. He had a gun in his hand
and he came backwards down the steps. After him came two men in yellow raincoats with
their hands their backs, and then two other men in white with guns.
Two police officers came after her.
‘Wait, Prime Minister,’ they said. ‘Please stop, it’s dangerous.’
‘Not now,’ she said. ‘It’s a dangerous any more.’ She walked on through the rain
without stopping, and the young police officers walked beside her. They were afraid to
touch her and they did not know what to do. Some journalist ran after them.
Two men in blue came out of the plane – the pilot and co-pilot. Then some men in
suits. She was quiet near the plane now and there were quiet a lot of newspaper
photographers around her, bur she did not stop walking.
A big young man came out of the plane with a short, thin, grey-haired one – Harald
and Carl. Helen could see that Carl’s face was very white and there was blood in his
mouth, but he could walk all right.
Carl saw her coming, a small strong figure walking through the rain, with a crowd of
police and photographers around her. ‘Harald, my friend,’ he said. ‘I think we’re in the
news again. You’re going to have another photo to show your little son in his birthday.’
Carl and Helen Sandberg met at the bottom of the steps in the darkness and the rain.
And Carl was right; there was a photo of it in every newspaper in the world the next day.