The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules

by Catharina Ingelman-Sundberg

  ‘You were right. It is Juro, damn it. Forget the pensioners, let’s check the Mercedes instead,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, great, real villains. This is more like it!’ Lönnberg slammed the back doors shut, mumbled an apology to Martha and ran after Strömbeck. Strömbeck knocked on the window of the Mercedes. The driver lowered the window.

  ‘Can we have a look at your driving licence, please?’ Strömbeck asked.

  ‘Of course.’ The driver pretended to be looking for it, but instead engaged first gear. With a roar, the car shot off.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Strömbeck screamed and ran back to the Volvo.

  ‘We’ll follow them,’ Lönnberg shouted as he jumped in and pushed the accelerator to the floor. ‘Now we’ll nail them.’ A bit of action at last, he thought. Now, finally, they had something sensible to do.

  Seventy-Five

  Martha saw the dark blue Volvo start off in pursuit of the Mercedes.

  ‘There now. That worked like a charm,’ she said with a happy smile as the two cars disappeared at high speed in the direction of the highway. The noise had brought the other pensioners out of the church. They approached the van and crowded around the driver’s window to find out what had just happened.

  ‘That was close,’ Martha explained. ‘When Lönnberg came inside the van, I thought we were finished. Even though Anders has the money, the cop could have found some traces of our crime.’

  ‘It happened so quickly. We had hardly got in through the church doors,’ said Christina, making herself comfortable on the back seat.

  ‘Yeah, all we had to do was turn round and come back to the van,’ said Anna-Greta. ‘But you order us around like a dictator.’

  Rake looked annoyed. ‘Can you explain this? I haven’t a clue what happened,’ he said.

  ‘Didn’t you see? They were the same cars that have been outside Diamond House. Every time the dark blue Volvo turned up, the grey Mercedes vanished. The Yugoslav mafia recognized the police and that was why they drove off. I thought if we drove in here they would catch sight of each other and leave us alone. And it worked. Now we can continue in peace.’

  Brains gave Martha an admiring look. How did she manage it?

  ‘Just think, we got rid of both the grey and the dark blue car,’ said Christina.

  ‘He up above has helped us,’ said Anna-Greta, rolling her eyes and looking up at the ceiling of the van.

  ‘No, it was Martha,’ said Brains.

  ‘Now, now, I know that of course, I was just joking,’ said Anna-Greta. She started singing her favourite old pop song, which she sang time and again the whole way to Sollentuna. Martha drove at more than 100 kph and it wasn’t until they left the highway and turned down a little unpaved road that she slowed down. Anders should be waiting for them with all the money—if he hadn’t absconded with the loot, of course. Martha had seen how well he had arranged everything about the robbery, and she had begun to change her opinion of him. There ought not to be any need for her to be worried, but … She looked at her watch. If everything went according to plan, then they would have time to get the money and make it on the last evening flight. To be on the safe side, Anna-Greta had booked with a proper airline. They didn’t want to risk one of the low-price flights, and it was important for them to know that they would get to the right destination and not be denied boarding because of a shortage of seats. While Martha drove, she thought about everything that Anders had had to do. Had he actually done it all? Now her doubts came back: could they really trust him? In less than half an hour, she would find out.

  Anders looked at the security cases one last time and raised the axe. Then he stopped. Was the temperature really cold enough? As soon as he had arrived at the barn, he had connected the freezers to the electricity supply. It was best to check how many degrees they had reached now so that he didn’t spoil everything. The cases needed to be completely frozen and the ampoules of dye had to be minus 20 or colder. The carbon dioxide snow was great stuff, but it took time to freeze things, and to be on the safe side he decided to wait a little longer. He looked at the door out of the corner of his eye. It was weird that Christina and the others were taking so long. The League of Pensioners ought to have been here ages ago. As long as they hadn’t got caught in a routine traffic-police check, or had got a flat tire or been involved in something else, he thought. That could ruin everything. It had all happened so fast that they didn’t have any plan B. So the plan they did have simply had to work. At the same time, he didn’t dare phone them. Maybe the police were waiting at the other end, ready to trace the call. Best to lie low.

  He paced back and forth in the barn a long while until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He took the first case out of the freezer. He fetched the axe, spat on the palms of his hands and grabbed hold of the handle. By now everything ought to be frozen, and the GPS would be out of action … just as long as the ampoules didn’t contain linseed-oil dye, because that didn’t freeze, but the banks would certainly use old, cheap artificial dyes, he was certain of that. Cautiously he approached the first security case, took aim with the axe and, with a powerful swing, smashed the ampoule. He waited. Listened. Nothing happened. Not a trace of dye seeped out. Then he dared open the case and felt a wave of joy when he saw the banknotes. Encouraged by this, he took out the next case too, but stopped when he heard a vehicle approaching outside the barn. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightened his back and took a few hesitant steps towards the door, where he stopped to listen. He was still cautious, so he waited until he heard three knocks, followed by a pause and then two quick knocks. Oh, thank God, they were here now. He slid the lock back and pushed the door open.

  ‘Everything under control?’ Brains asked and stepped in, followed by the others.

  Anders nodded.

  ‘Where are the paintings?’

  ‘In the car. Hang on.’ Anders walked to the car, opened the door and lifted a large painting out. ‘Now I hope that your calculations are correct. Four layers of five-hundred-kronor notes on a sixty-five by ninety-five canvas. That’s not much.’

  ‘Right, but Christina’s two canvases are larger. You know, she had to do something bigger than ever before.’ Brains said with a grin.

  ‘Yes, and then we’ve got all the other canvases as well as the paintings you are taking as hand luggage. I just hope the plastic wrap works.’

  ‘It did at Diamond House. If the paintings get more or less distorted, it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s modern art.’

  ‘Now please, we have work to do.’ Martha cut them short. Her tone was so sharp that everyone knew that now they were in a hurry. While Martha took the banknotes out of the security cases, the men took some wooden frames and some blank canvases and placed them on a table nearby. Then they took a stack of boards that had been painted with rather garish scenes—the handiwork of Christina and Anna-Greta—and a rectangular, loose canvas, the work of Martha.

  ‘Christina and Anna-Greta, now it’s your turn,’ Brains called out.

  The women laid the five-hundred-kronor banknotes in an even layer on top of the canvases. Martha secured each layer with a thin plastic net before adding the next layer, and in that way spread several layers of banknotes across each canvas before sealing it with plastic wrap and gluing the corners. Not until then did Rake and Brains attached the painted boards to the canvases with glue and secure them inside the frames so that they looked like ordinary paintings. While they worked away, Anna-Greta’s eyes glistened with pleasure. She liked being surrounded by all these bills, and she had never seen as many as these during all her days at the bank.

  They laboured away, silently and calmly, but it was a fiddly job getting everything right and they soon got tired. Martha had brought along coffee and sandwiches, and after a little break when they discussed customs procedures, metal detectors and various types of X-ray equipment, they continued with their work. Just before half past eight in the evening they were ready, and they all looked very pleased with
themselves.

  As they were carrying the paintings to the Green Menace, Anna-Greta suddenly stopped.

  ‘Oh my God! There are still some banknotes in one of the cases,’ she called out, disappointed. ‘At least a million is left.’

  ‘Well, Anders must get a little something,’ Christina quickly retorted. ‘He is going to administer us. And Emma, she—’

  ‘Do you call one million “a little something”? One million for paper and stamps?’ said Anna-Greta almost reaching thunderous tones.

  ‘But we promised to pay for Gunnar’s journeys too, didn’t we? That will cost money as well,’ said Brains.

  ‘Oh yes, that’s right. Yes, we had decided that.’ Anna-Greta was silent a few moments, but then exploded: ‘Oh my God, we’ve forgotten something!’ she exclaimed, putting her hands over her face. ‘The money in the drainpipe!’

  ‘Forgotten? No, not at all,’ Martha reassured everybody. ‘I’ll tell you later, but now we must be off to the airport. Into the van with you.’

  They all realized that time was short, and they climbed into the van. It took a little longer than usual because the paintings were in the way and they had to squeeze past them. When Anders was about to close the back doors, he hesitated, pointed at the works of art and grinned.

  ‘The League of Pensioners strikes again!’

  ‘Old people are capable,’ Anna-Greta snorted, accompanied by a happy murmur from the others. Martha wound down the window.

  ‘Sorry to be leaving you with the dreary work still to do,’ she said as she started the van. ‘But like we said, you’ll get paid. Thanks anyhow, and give Emma our best.’

  ‘I will do, and I’ll cover your tracks and take the vacuum cleaner and the freezers to the recycling station,’ said Anders.

  ‘Ah, poor boy,’ said Christina. ‘Come across and visit us so we can repay you as well as Emma. What are you going to do with the Green Menace?’

  ‘Like we agreed. We’ll leave it at the drop-off point outside the Arlanda terminal,’ said Martha, winding up the window again. ‘Then nobody will pay any attention to it until about a week has passed, and by then we will be far away.’

  ‘Unless I fetch it before then,’ Anders mumbled.

  ‘Right then, off we go,’ Brains said.

  ‘No, hang on a second,’ said Christina, and she got out of the van again. She put her arms round Anders. ‘Now take care of yourself, my boy, and give Emma some of the money too. Don’t forget to say hello to her and little Malin from me.’ She pushed a bundle of notes into his hand. ‘This is a little advance, and remember that you and Emma will be even richer if you wait for all of your inheritance. If you don’t use that million properly, then you won’t inherit anything at all. Nothing!’

  ‘Yes, Mother, yes. I know.’ Anders smiled and gave her a hug.

  When the five arrived at Arlanda all of them were feeling very tense. So far everything had gone well, and they didn’t want to trip at the finishing line. They tried to keep calm and walk in a slow and dignified manner up to the cluster of ticket machines. They had no problem getting the tickets printed because they had all practised pressing the buttons on those horrid, impersonal machines, and now they even succeeded in getting the machines to give them the baggage tags too! Their suitcases were the correct weight and as they were all labelled with stickers proclaiming ‘Old People Are Capable’, they were greeted at the check-in desk with a smile, and that, too, went smoothly. Then there were the paintings.

  ‘Do you think they will let us go on board with this?’ Christina asked, pointing at Anna-Greta’s abstract painting, which looked like a woman seen from behind, with a rosette and tangled hair. In this painting, their friend had slapped on a great deal of paint. The work of art was not exactly high class. To put it bluntly, it was dreadful. Anna-Greta saw her friends’ hesitant faces.

  ‘This is not about what a painting looks like, but about whether the picture is the right size for carry-on luggage,’ she said.

  The other paintings weren’t much better, but they were colourful, well-framed and not a centimetre over the maximum size allowed.

  ‘Ah, you have special baggage,’ the woman behind the check-in desk noted. When she saw Martha’s rectangular work of art, she seemed uncertain.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ she said.

  ‘This is very fragile and means a lot to me,’ said Martha with a trembling voice as she patted the frame. She had put several layers of paint on the canvas and then slashed through it all with a palette knife like a genuine Fontana. It would make it easier to get the money out, she reckoned.

  ‘You’re going to Barbados, I see,’ said the woman behind the desk.

  ‘Yes, to Bridgetown. That’s where we are going to have our exhibit.’

  ‘Oh, how nice. And you are flying business class, I see. I’ll ask the flight attendant to take care of the painting. It’s nice for pensioners to paint. Without artists, society would lose its soul.’

  ‘We’ve already lost ours,’ Martha mumbled.

  A little while later, when they were going through security, it wasn’t quite as easy as Martha had hoped With the X-ray machine, the guards immediately discovered a palette knife that she had hidden in her purse belt and she was abruptly stopped.

  ‘What’s this?’ one of the guards asked in an authoritative voice, looking at her painting.

  Martha pointed at the label on the corner of the frame.

  ‘See that? Storm of Roses, it’s called. It’s the best I’ve ever done.’ This wasn’t a lie, because she had never painted before. Admittedly, you couldn’t see any sign of roses, but Martha thought it was a good name. The heavily painted canvas hid lots and lots of banknotes.

  ‘I’m not sure we can let this through,’ said the guard.

  ‘Tell me you like it. That would please me so much,’ Martha appealed to him, patting the painting with one hand. ‘Please!’

  So she was waved through, and shortly afterwards, Brains, Rake and Anna-Greta also went through with their paintings. But when it was Christina’s turn, the light turned red.

  ‘Ooops!’ she gasped and looked unhappy. Her painting, unlike the others, was wrapped in brown paper.

  ‘We will have to put this through the X-ray once more,’ said the guard.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ said Christina, and the others stared. Rake stood there nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Anna-Greta was completely silent, Brains raised his eyebrows and Martha felt her knees tremble. Considering the circumstances, their friend seemed remarkably calm. Quickly she tore off the paper wrapping, revealing a bunch of red push pins that were stuck into the painting. She gave the guard a wide smile. ‘Perhaps I went a bit far here, but this painting is rather special. It’s called Brass, you see. Unfortunately, I forgot about the push pins.’

  The security guards stared at the cluster of red push pins and didn’t know what to think. One of them reached out and picked up something else from the table.

  ‘What about this, then?’

  ‘Ah, my nail file. Is that where it was? I must have dropped it.’

  Then, with a gesture of resignation, the security guards waved her through. The League of Pensioners sighed with relief.

  ‘Why did you do that, Christina?’ Martha asked a little later when they were going towards the gate.

  ‘I was just testing the apparatuses. We’re going to commit some more crimes, aren’t we?’

  When the huge airbus had lifted from the runway and the lights had been turned on in the cabin again, Martha ordered a bottle of champagne. Then she pulled out two sheets of paper.

  ‘I’ll just do what we agreed so that we can post the letters when we arrive.’

  ‘Right, let’s drink to that,’ Brains agreed and held up his glass.

  ‘Hang on a moment. Let me write first.’

  Martha’s handwriting was a bit shaky, but while the others started sipping their champagne and encouraged her with joyous acclamation, she pu
t together the following letter:

  To the Government that can carry out something without being voted down.

  At this point she was interrupted by Rake, who thought that she should add ‘parliament’ too, because they lived in a democracy. Anna-Greta raised her voice and said that they ought to add something about how the money must bypass all the bureaucracy. Martha did as they said, and then went on:

  The ‘Friends of the Elderly’ association has, at its lawfully convened annual general meeting, decided to annually donate money to those in need. The money can only be donated for the purposes listed below.

  All retirement homes shall be renovated and equipped to at least the same standard as the country’s prisons. In addition, there should be access to computers, hairdressers and chiropodists. Pleasant outings and humane care are a requirement.

  Every old people’s home shall have a proper kitchen with competent staff, where the food is prepared on site with fresh ingredients. A whisky before dinner and wine or champagne with dinner shall be served to those who so wish.

  The residents shall have the freedom to come and go as they please, and to decide themselves what time they shall get up and go to bed.

  A gym with training equipment shall be open to all the residents, and the retirement home shall provide a coach.

  Everybody shall be able to drink as many cups of coffee as they like, and cakes and biscuits shall be served to those who so wish.

  Nobody is allowed to become a politician in a position of power before they have done an internship at a retirement home for at least six months.

  The association’s committee has created a fund for deserving causes [she meant the Robbery Fund, but of course she didn’t spell that out] and will decide when and to whom donations will be made. Decisions of the committee cannot be appealed. Every donation is free of tax.

  Martha formulated the letter so that a copy could be sent directly to the media—that way the letter would not be forgotten.

  ‘And don’t forget the money for our friends at Diamond House,’ said Christina.