Impact Epub

by Lourdes Daza-Gillman

  Javier nodded. “As soon as we know who he is we can arrange interviews, first with Nina Jay and afterwards with the man in the photos. This time she’s definitely going to need a lawyer.”

  CHAPTER 32

  The Shooting Range

  AFTER SEVERAL FUTILE VISITS TO the shooting range, Kalle Karlsson finally managed to make contact with the manager by telephone. He made his way to Sanna Johansson’s office and knocked gently on the door before entering and plonking himself down onto one of the visitor’s chairs.

  “I’ve just discovered that the boss of the shooting range is in Thailand,” he said. “Unfortunately, we don’t know when he’s coming home. Apparently he lives there for six months of the year but this time has decided to stay longer. I get the impression he’s avoiding us. I wonder why.”

  “Hmm,” murmured Sanna, without taking her eyes off the computer screen.

  “I can’t see an end in sight. I’ve been to the shooting range a couple of times but when I finally got the opportunity to show Konrad Berg’s photograph to a couple of members, I was told it was the wrong day. They only meet on Thursdays. One of the men said that he had seen Konrad Berg with a man from Norrland called Oxen who was apparently a bit of a loud mouth.”

  Sanna stopped typing on her computer. “Did you go there last Thursday?”

  “Yes, but no luck then either. None of the men we’re looking for were there. I chatted to the cleaner who seemed to know all the members. She told me that the group has a bit of a reputation, mainly due to this Oxen chap, and that other regulars call the group the “Thursday mob.” There are usually five of them and she gave us a good description. One of the men has a Finnish accent so that must be the same man who appears in the DVD’s.”

  Sanna mulled over the new information.

  “Hmm, I don’t get why these men are so hard to reach. We need to find their social security numbers! Contact the manager again. He’s had more than enough time. If he doesn’t return to Sweden within a week we’ll issue a search warrant.”

  “Will do!” said Kalle. “It’ll have to be a text message since he’s stopped answering my calls.”

  “So there are five of them,” added Sanna.

  “I’ll go there again with photographs of the other victims, and we’ll see if the cleaner recognizes anyone.”

  “When?”

  “The day after tomorrow, Thursday.”

  “Take the photo of Aron Alvik as well.”

  “Yeah, I was going to.”

  “Okay, the other thing I want to know is how many members were in the original group.”

  “Good thinking! Maybe someone was kicked out of the group and is getting their own back.”

  “Hi there!” said Javier, drumming the door with his fingers as he entered the room. “I’ve just spoken to the wife of our Gothenburg victim. Sometimes it pays to be a pain in the ass. According to a colleague in Gothenburg, Thom Mark’s wife mentioned something about a man from Umeå. However, she never followed it up because she was moved to another investigation. Anyway, eventually the wife remembered that her husband regularly spoke to a man called Åke Pettersson from Umeå. Apparently they used to meet at least once a week in Stockholm.”

  “A man from Umeå?” repeated Sanna.

  “Yup!”

  “Oxen?” said Kalle.

  Sanna nodded. “So he lives in Umeå… not in Stockholm!”

  “I wonder if there are more victims up there.” said Kalle.

  Sanna closed her eyes and massaged her forehead with both hands.

  Javier stared at Kalle. “Yeah, that’s the million dollar question.”

  Silence.

  “Anything else about this man Pettersson?”

  “Yup, Thom Mark’s wife found Pettersson’s visit card, so we have his telephone number and know that he works at a bank.”

  “We’ll go there tomorrow,” interjected Sanna, turning to Javier. “Can you organize it?”

  “Thorén and I have a lot planned. We’re going on a nightclub crawl.”

  “Tough work if you can get it!” teased Kalle.

  Javier smiled.

  “Ok, then I’ll go with Kalle. We’ll do the shooting range another day. This is more urgent. By the way, does that work for you, Kalle? How’s it going with Mia?”

  “Fine. Her mother’s with us for a few weeks, so everything’s pretty calm at the moment.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Umeå

  WHAT SANNA HAD heard about him was no exaggeration. Åke Pettersson had a towering, bulky frame and with his gruff voice and hostile stare there was definitely something menacing about him. Or perhaps he just didn’t like being visited by the police and was determined to show his disapproval.

  After being greeted frostily by Pettersson in the bank reception area the group headed straight to the lift. Nobody spoke. As the lift ascended Pettersson admired his cropped hair in the polished doors.

  “This way,” he indicated as the lift doors opened and he strode off down the corridor.

  He ushered the detectives into a spacious office of approximately thirty square metres overlooking an inner courtyard. Daylight streamed in through two large windows. The white walls were decorated with landscape paintings of Norrland. A brown leather chair and sturdy desk stood under one of the windows. On top of the desk was a black writing mat as well as a pencil sharpener, penholder and letter opener. Each item looked like it had been chosen with care. At one end of the room were two grey fabric armchairs and a low sofa table and at the other end a bookshelf filled with rows of carefully arranged blue files, each one placed at exactly the same distance from the edge. The room was immaculate. Everything seemed to be in perfect order.

  Sanna couldn’t help comparing Åke Pettersson’s office to the neatly arranged crime scenes.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Pettersson with a distinctly sarcastic tone.

  Sanna raised her eyebrows. “Can we sit down?”

  Pettersson gestured towards the armchairs.

  Sanna and Kalle took their seats. Pettersson remained on his feet with his arms crossed.

  The atmosphere was already tense and Sanna didn’t want to waste any more time. At any moment he could decide to dismiss them.

  “How do you know Konrad Berg?” she asked.

  “Konrad Berg? Should I know him?” he replied impassively.

  “Well, you are members of the same shooting club!”

  “Hmm,” said Pettersson, stroking his chin pensively. “Oh yeah, you mean the tall thin guy? I think people call him Konne. I wouldn’t say we’re friends exactly but we chat now and then at the shooting range.”

  “We know that you called him at home, so you must be friends” interjected Sanna.

  Åke Pettersson glared at her. “Am I being accused of anything,” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “No, we just want to know about your relationship with Konrad Berg.”

  “My private life is none of your business. I’ll meet who the hell I want, I don’t have to inform the cops!”

  “Fine,” said Kalle. “If you won’t cooperate we’ll call you in for questioning at the police station instead. Is that what you want?”

  Åke Pettersson stared at him. “Yes, that’s probably best!”

  Sanna and Kalle exchanged glances.

  “As you wish,” said Sanna. “You’ll receive a summons within the next few days.”

  Åke Pettersson nodded dismissively.

  “Could I have a post-it-note?” asked Sanna.

  Pettersson glanced at the wad lying on his desk and nodded reluctantly.

  Sanna grabbed a post-it-note and a pen and scribbled down a few words, then returned the items to the desk.

  Pettersson, who had been eyeing her like a hawk, carefully repositioned them.

  Sanna made a mental note. Her request had been a ploy – she usually used her tablet computer to jot down notes.

  “Okay, we’re done here,” said Sanna.

  Pe
ttersson followed them to the lift and said goodbye.

  The detective inspectors stood silently outside the building. Sanna had always imagined Umeå as a rather quiet town but it was nearly twelve o’clock and the place was buzzing. The bank was located on a pedestrian thoroughfare, replete with shops, restaurants and cafés. People hurried past, others strolled calmly. Between the buildings there was a small park crowded with people enjoying the sunshine.

  “What about lunch?” asked Kalle.

  Sanna gave him a long questioning look and nodded distractedly.

  “Yes, that’s a good idea… What’s the time?”

  “Half past eleven.”

  “It’s lunch time and the restaurants are bound to be packed. Let’s pay a visit to Raino Cederberg instead.”

  “Alright then,” said Kalle. “But we’ll have to take a taxi. The police headquarters are quite far north of the town.”

  They made their way to the square where a number of taxis were lined up waiting for customers. Sanna climbed into the first car followed by Kalle.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Kalle.

  “We’ll have an informal meeting with him. I want to know if Pettersson’s on their radar. I suspect he’s a bit of a troublemaker.”

  Two hours later Sanna and Kalle were sitting on the plane back to Stockholm.

  “Kalle, take a good hard look at Åke Pettersson. I don’t buy Cederberg’s description of him as a fine, upstanding citizen. I would be very surprised if he’s anywhere near as law abiding as Cederberg claims.”

  The informal lunch meeting with Raino Cederberg hadn’t gone quite the way Sanna had been expecting. The Chief Superintendent was ill tempered and spoke with a thick Norrland dialect. He seemed very anxious for the NBI in Stockholm to recognize his credentials as Chief Superintendent and appreciate how well informed he was about goings on in his district. He was familiar with all the criminals in Umeå and Pettersson was definitely not among them. In addition, Pettersson was a close family friend. According to Cederberg, Oxen, as he called him, was a bit rough round the edges but once you got to know him he was actually quite a good-hearted chap.

  DAWN WAS BREAKING. Anders Segelström brewed his third pot of coffee and fixed himself a cheese sandwich. He was hyped and not tired at all. He poured the hot drink into a mug, placed the sandwich on a plate and arranged the items on a tray to take into the living room. He sat down on the sofa and carried on studying the photographs.

  To his surprise he had found new evidence. It was an important observation and one that he had decided to analyse independently but not report until he was certain. He had test-fired his own Taser, photographed the burn wound and compared it with the scars found on the murder victims.

  He stood up and began to pace around the room, debating with himself how to use this new discovery against Sanna Johansson. He had been plotting his revenge for a long time. He hated her. She was the reason he had been suspended from his job. And now, to add insult to injury, he had been forced to work with her again and pretend to be cooperative, pretend that he had moved on.

  Finally he had found a way of getting his own back.

  He sat down, picked up the magnifying glass and studied the images again, this time comparing them to a photograph of his own burn marks.

  CHAPTER 34

  The Unexpected

  WHEN SANNA JOHANSSON returned to her office Kalle Karlsson was already waiting for her. He passed her a print out.

  “Åke Pettersson has reported his ex-wife for domestic abuse,” he said with an ironic smile.

  Sanna looked at him sceptically. She sat down at her desk and read through the document.

  “He doesn’t look like a man who would be easily abused,” she said, without taking her eyes off the report. “Did he end up in hospital?”

  Kalle shook his head uncomprehendingly.

  “Get in contact with his ex,” instructed Sanna. She read on. “Lee Wang… Chinese?”

  “I think so. Asian anyway. I was going to question her this week but if you want to meet her as well I can arrange a time to suit you.”

  Sanna flicked through her Filofax and shook her head.

  “I really would like to meet her but I’ve no time this week. See if you can arrange for her to come Monday or Tuesday morning next week, preferably Monday.”

  Kalle nodded and left the room.

  THE ROOM WAS DIMLY LIT and “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” by Guns N’Roses, was playing softly in the background. A candelabrum stood on the table and Kim lay on the sofa, bathed in candlelight with their eyes closed. It was time to put on their thinking cap and develop a strategy to deal with the final subject, but their thoughts refused to cooperate and kept returning to that terrible day. They would never be able to forget the sound of his filthy, sneering voice with its thick Norrland accent.

  It had been him who had pinned Kim down, enjoying listening to them screaming as they struggled to escape.

  “You fucking whore, stop being such a goddamn pain in the ass.”

  His words and hysterical laughter still echoed in Kim’s head.

  “This is fun, isn’t it guys?”

  One by one they had violated Kim.

  There was no turning back. The time had come for Kim to face their most feared target. It demanded extremely methodical planning. Nothing must go wrong, otherwise they would be done for.

  Kims eyes were heavy with exhaustion.

  At that moment the news came onto the radio.

  ‘From now on we can expect far fewer convictions for rape when there is no evidence other than one person’s word against another. This week the Western Sweden County Court acquitted a man from Gothenburg who was accused of rape, referring to a couple of judgements made in the High Court earlier this summer.’

  Yes, that’s how it would be, thought Kim. His word against mine. Although four years had gone by, the physical evidence still existed. However, it could no longer be linked to the guilty parties.

  Kim had no idea how they had managed to get home. It was as if a thick fog had suddenly clouded their memory. All they could remember was standing under the shower and ripping their clothes off with just one objective, to scrub away the grime. Using every considerable type of cleaning fluid they scoured every crevice of their body and then rinsed themselves with hot water until they lost all sensation. Afterwards, as if that weren’t enough, they continued to scrub and scrub with corrosive liquid until they were too sore to continue.

  In spite of this, Kim could still smell the stench of the men’s bodies.

  Even now, memories of that night provoked waves of horror. The reckless cleaning process had resulted in serious burn wounds. Kim wanted to seek medical help but how would they explain the marks on their body? The doctor would diagnose them as mentally ill. Perhaps they should have reported the rape to the police? But a police report would have been a pointless exercise. It would undeniably have been Kim’s word against theirs and the men would have been acquitted. Exactly like the case recently reported in the news.

  Kim frowned.

  They would never be humiliated again! The only way to assuage their anger was to even the score, to take the law into their own hands and make the attackers suffer just as they had been made to suffer.

  THE WOMAN LOOKED AT HIM WITH HER intensive green eyes. Her blonde hair was set in a bouffant style and her lips were bright red. She was wearing a low-cut tight, black dress. Nina Jay and her lawyer were sitting in one of the interview rooms and facing her across the table were Javier Mendez and Cecile Thorén.

  After a few days staking out Nina Jay, Javier had sent her a summons. As usual, she had chosen to ignore it. This time, however, she had been given no choice.

  “Please answer my question!” insisted Javier.

  Nina Jay looked at him contemptuously.

  “My client has made it quite clear that she has nothing to add,” insisted her lawyer. “She has already corroborated her claim that she was abroad when Konrad Berg wa
s murdered. So, if she isn’t accused of anything I suggest we conclude this meeting!”

  Thorén stared at him. He was a short and thin nondescript man of around fifty, formally dressed in an elegant grey suit and white shirt. Next to his client he looked rather colourless.

  “You’ve already told us that. I want an answer to my question regarding your client’s relationship to Manfred Mattsson,” continued Javier.

  He turned to Nina Jay. “We already know that the two of you have had contact, so I strongly advise you to start talking.”

  “My client has the right to meet whoever she wants! It’s none of your business”

  “Actually, it does concern us. Manfred Mattsson has threatened one of our witnesses and I want to know why!”

  “What Manfred Mattson does and doesn’t do is not Nina Jay’s responsibility.”

  Nina Jay stretched her upper body, keeping her eyes fixed on Javier. “Okay,” she said finally, rummaging in her large red Gucci handbag. “As you know, I had my reasons for following Berg. Here are a few photos. Maybe you’ll find something useful.” She passed them a brown A4 envelope.

  Javier opened it and took out a pile of photographs.

  “What’s this?” he asked with a blank expression.

  “Are you blind?” she replied. “It’s Berg with a woman. If you pay attention you’ll notice that the photos were taken the same day that Berg was murdered.”

  Javier looked at the images more closely and zeroed in on a photo of Konrad Berg with a statuesque woman whose arm was draped over his shoulders. She was wearing a long, figure hugging black trouser dress and red pumps with high stiletto heels.

  A cross-dresser, he thought. The woman in the photo was almost as tall as Konrad Berg. A little too tall, perhaps. He glanced at Nina Jay again and noted that she was also about the same height.

  “How do you know it was the same day?”

  “It was the last time my scout Mattson saw him. And, to answer your original question, Manfred Mattson is a freelancer and naturally has many other clients. I have no idea what he did with your witness.”