by Per Wahlöö
It was starting to sleet again. The man with the red hair squinted towards the forest edge beyond the airfield.
‘I’m assuming the national detoxification centre won’t have a particularly good reputation among the public after this.’
‘No, probably not.’
‘I expect we’ll have to blow the wretched place up and raze it to the ground with bulldozers. Then they can spread quicklime over the whole thing.’
‘Doctors aren’t exactly going to be popular either,’ said Jensen.
The other man laughed, rather bitterly.
‘Scarcely,’ he said. ‘Not after this reign of terror. Just think of the country’s elite white coats, men and women, tearing around in howling ambulances. Like veritable werewolves, or vampires in fact. Bloodsuckers in the most literal sense of the word. It really was a week of unparalleled horror they inflicted on this city.’
‘How many did they kill?’
‘A fair number. But not as many as one might be tempted to think. They were only able to carry out their swoops on a relatively small number of residential districts. And even in those, they didn’t catch everybody.’
‘Why didn’t you intervene sooner?’
‘Our resources aren’t that extensive. Even though we’d made various preparations over the years, it still took time to organise and assemble the scattered groups. What’s more, we were psychologically unprepared. Who the hell would have thought the entire police force and military would self-destruct within a week?’
The electric lights flickered into life for a second and then went out again. A few moments later, they came back on.
‘There we are,’ said the police doctor. ‘Things are starting to sort themselves out.’
He peered out at the inhospitable weather.
‘Ah, here comes our guest.’
A delta-winged military plane had appeared above the trees. It landed on the far side of the airfield. The brake chute opened.
‘Your last big interrogation, Jensen,’ said the man with the red hair. ‘Do you want me to stay to give evidence?’
‘If you like,’ said Inspector Jensen.
CHAPTER 26
The minister was escorted by a slim, dark-haired woman toting a sub-machine gun and wearing a red star just above the breast of her boiler suit. She looked about twenty-five. When she opened the door, the minister said:
‘What are those flags on the roof?’
‘Are you colour blind?’ the girl responded.
She shoved him over the threshold.
‘I’ll be standing outside,’ she said, and slammed the door shut.
The minister looked around him in confusion, but seemed pretty much as before, arrogant and supercilious.
He was still a young-looking forty-year-old with a slight squint in his blue eyes and an effeminate touch around his mouth. He was discreetly dressed in a grey worsted suit. Many people had found his appearance pleasing, but he hadn’t made it on to the election posters, where the senior minister’s greater weight and more earnest, everyday look had been considered a better symbol of security and prosperity.
The minister had used the social democrats’ party apparatus as a springboard and risen rapidly in the Accord administration.
‘I was kidnapped on foreign soi—’
He caught sight of Inspector Jensen and broke off abruptly.
‘Jensen? Was it you who had me abducted like this? If so …’
‘No,’ said Jensen. ‘It wasn’t me. Please sit down.’
The minister sat down. He still looked perplexed, but perhaps also a little relieved. He apparently took Jensen’s presence as an indication that nothing particularly serious had happened after all. Finding himself with an individual used to taking orders, who he could presumably boss about, seemed to boost his self-confidence.
Jensen had been standing behind the little desk when the man came into the room. Now he, too, sat down. Took out his notepad and pen. Regarded the visitor impassively.
The minister threw a look of irritation at the red-haired police doctor, who was standing over by the window, silent and still.
‘Who’s that?’ he asked.
‘My police doctor. From the Sixteenth District.’
‘Ah, I see. Has the epidemic been contained?’
‘Yes, it’s over.’
‘No further risk of infection?’
‘No.’
The minister gave a sigh of relief.
‘Thank goodness,’ he said.
Then he recalled the assault he had recently suffered, and a menacing glint came into his china blue eyes.
‘Who was responsible for my abduction?’ he said. ‘How could it happen?’
‘Since the country you’ve come from doesn’t officially exist for us, we don’t have to stick too rigidly to protocol,’ said Jensen.
His face was smooth and impassive.
The man eyed him suspiciously, but refrained from comment. ‘When we last met, almost exactly twenty-four hours ago, I took on the task of clarifying the situation here and investigating the circumstances that led to it.’
‘Yes. But if the epidemic’s over, there’s nothing to investigate, is there? What’s the meaning of that charade outside?’
Jensen flicked through his notebook, unconcerned.
‘Who’s the girl with the firearm? Presumably it’s not loaded?’
‘Unfortunately the investigation isn’t yet complete,’ said Jensen. ‘I shall have to ask you to answer one question.’
‘Me? Are you going to interrogate me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you gone mad, Jensen? If you’ve uncovered anything, then out with it, man. And after that, get me back to the Ministry as quickly as possible. In fact, give me your report in the car on the way.’
He got briskly to his feet.
‘Is it true that the epidemic has been contained? That there’s no risk of infection?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then stop beating about the bush and get yourself over here.’
‘I think it would be unwise of you to try to leave this room, bearing in mi—’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now get a move on.’
‘Bearing in mind the risk to your security.’
‘The police and army will no doubt see to that. Pass me the phone.’
‘The phone isn’t working. Even if it were, it wouldn’t help you. The police force and the military system have been put out of action, at least temporarily.’
‘Out of action? What the hell are you talking about?’
The minister gave Jensen a withering look.
‘Sending a policeman,’ he said to himself. ‘I always said the man was an idiot.’
He gave a shrug of irritation.
‘What could possibly have put the police and military out of action, as you say? War? Invasion?’
‘The illness,’ said Jensen.
‘Rubbish,’ said the minister. ‘And anyway, the people are loyal. Blockhead.’
The police doctor had left his station by the window. He moved very softly in his rubber boots. With a couple of long strides he was half a metre behind the man in the elegant grey suit. He raised his right arm and struck him hard on the back of the neck with the side of his hand. The minister fell headlong to the floor.
‘That’s how loyal the people are,’ the doctor said. ‘Now get up and keep your mouth shut unless you’re asked to speak.’
Jensen regarded him coolly, with a look of distaste.
‘That,’ he said, ‘was entirely unnecessary. If there’s any repetition I shall end the interrogation.’
CHAPTER 27
The minister sat in the chair opposite Jensen. His eyes shifted uneasily and he dabbed the blood from the corners of his mouth with a rolled, white silk handkerchief. The red-haired police doctor was back in his place by the window.
‘A few brief facts,’ said Jensen. ‘To sketch in the background to the question I want you to ans
wer.’ The minister glanced surreptitiously at the window and nodded.
‘Many thousands of people have died of the illness that struck some sections of the community. In point of fact, it’s not correct to call it an epidemic, because the illness has proved not to be infectious.’
The man on the other side of the desk frowned deeply.
‘The chaotic situation that has prevailed in the country and above all in the capital for a period has arisen in part because a large proportion of the staff in the organisations that preserve the fabric of society have fallen ill and died.’
The minister had finished wiping away the blood, and put his handkerchief away.
‘The centre of power over the past week has been a group of doctors and other healthcare workers, who’ve barricaded themselves into the main hospital and the area round it. It turns out that virtually all these personnel are suffering from the aforementioned illness. While attempting to cure both themselves and others they have become mentally ill, as a result of brain damage caused in the initial stages of the illness. A week ago, when most normal social functions had become paralysed, this group declared a state of emergency.’
The minister stared at him and moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.
‘The method the group at the main hospital used to keep themselves alive depended on frequent blood transfusions. Once stocks of blood plasma were exhausted, they began press-ganging blood donors, who were taken to the main hospital at gunpoint and killed there. It’s still not clear exactly how many. When the state of emergency was declared, the whole city centre was shut off, and the few people who lived there were evacuated. Shortly after that, a total curfew was imposed on the whole metropolitan area. The population has been terrorised and living in extreme fear.’
The man on the other side of the desk opened his mouth to say something, but Jensen immediately held up his right hand to stop him.
‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘It was been ascertained that all those who succumbed to this disease fell ill simultaneously, and must all have been exposed to the infection or trigger at practically the same time. This would have been about three months ago, that’s to say at the very end of August or very beginning of September.’
‘It’s not my fault,’ said the minister.
‘In the light of this background information, I want to ask you to answer the following question.’
The minister stared at him as if paralysed.
‘What’s Steel Spring?’
Silence descended on the room. Outside, it was dusk. Jensen could make out low voices and a motorised throb, presumably a helicopter landing. He looked at his watch and let the second hand tick once round the dial. And again. Then he raised his eyes and fixed them on the man in the grey suit.
‘Whatever’s happened, it’s not my fault. Not our fault. If anything’s happened, it’s a pure accident.’
The man’s voice was hoarse and hesitant.
‘What’s Steel Spring?’ Jensen asked flatly.
‘Can … can I have a drink?’
‘No,’ said the police doctor from his station at the window. ‘The waterworks aren’t back in action yet.’
‘Please answer the question,’ said Jensen.
‘Steel Spring …’
‘Yes.’
‘It was the code name for an operation that was part of the coalition parties’ election campaign.’
‘Who had responsibility for this operation?’
‘The campaign leadership.’
‘Were you personally a member of that campaign leadership?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did this special operation aim to do?’
‘Produce loyalty propaganda, intended to stimulate citizens’ political interest in the run-up to the election.’
‘What form did it take?’
The minister was starting to regain his composure. He looked at Jensen with something approaching his customary chilly arrogance.
‘Now listen here, Jensen, what has this got to do with anything? If something’s gone badly wrong, neither I personally, nor my party nor the Accord as a whole can be made scapegoats.’
‘Stick to the facts.’
‘With pleasure. I have nothing to hide. One fact, for example, is that a number of different bodies within society collaborated in the implementation of the campaign and were responsible for its overall shape and its various stages.’
‘The security services, for example?’
The man stole another look at the area by the window. At length he said:
‘The security services had very little to do with the operation as a whole. It’s possible that they were involved in some small detail at the preparatory stage. In speaking about the security services, however, you must be aware that you are dealing with questions of an extremely confidential nature.’
‘Not any more. You still haven’t told me what form the operation took.’
‘It was all very simple. They sent out a card with a statement of loyalty. You should have had one yourself.’
‘Yes. That’s right. A white card with a blue sticker.’
‘Just so. Why are you asking lots of things you already know? Did you send the card in, by the way?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you put on the sticker?’
‘Yes,’ said Jensen.
The minister looked quizzically at Jensen.
‘What the hell is this actually all about?’ he said.
‘Who produced the cards?’
‘Our largest private paper mill, newspaper and printing company.’
‘And the envelope?’
‘The same group of companies. You should know them. You of all people.’
‘Who had responsibility for the stickers?’
‘The National Bank’s banknote printing works.’
‘And who was responsible for the gum on them?’
The silence was even longer than the last. Every so often, there was a clatter from outside as the sub-machine gun knocked lightly against the wall. In the end, the police doctor straightened up. Jensen gave him a quick, expressionless look. Then he repeated the question.
‘Who had responsibility for the stickers?’
‘The Defence Research Institute,’ the minister said quietly.
He looked miserably in Jensen’s direction.
‘No,’ said the doctor. ‘No, it can’t be possible.’
He stared at the minister as if stunned. Then he threw back his shoulders and went rapidly out of the room.
The minister gave Jensen a terrified look.
‘No,’ he said. ‘For God’s sake don’t let him …’
Inspector Jensen did not move. Out in the corridor, the police doctor threw open the door to the toilet next to the office. Almost at once they heard him being sick.
The wall was thin and far from soundproof. The terminal building as a whole was a scandalous bit of jerry-building. It had been put up by a private entrepreneur when the current Education Minister had been serving on the building committee.
At the same instant, the water pipes started to gurgle.
CHAPTER 28
‘Pardon me for interrupting,’ said the police doctor, ‘but I thought it was important to clarify the details. Partly because it saves time, partly because it seems to me the most honest way to do things.’
Jensen nodded.
‘I understand,’ he said.
The police doctor turned to the minister again, gave him a savage look and said:
‘Have you got that?’
‘As a professional politician I’ve had to learn to assess and evaluate situations.’
There was still an undertone of arrogance and pride in his voice.
‘Maybe you’re not a very quick learner. As far as I can see, you’ve completely misinterpreted everything since you arrived. Not least the situation in which you find yourself. So allow me to repeat what I just said. Your chances of getting out of here are extremely limited; in a
ctual fact they are so tiny that it might be considered debatable whether you’ll even make it out of this room. I was very close to laying hands on you myself a minute ago. And I can assure you there are a lot of people here with a good deal less patience than me.’
There was nothing self-controlled about the way the minister was looking at him.
‘He’s scared,’ said Jensen unsympathetically. ‘You’ve already given us proof of that and I don’t see there’s any point in labouring it. A witness in a mentally balanced state is in principle always preferable to one who’s scared out of his wits and feeling physically and/or mentally threatened.’
‘Standard police instructions,’ the doctor said drily. ‘But you’re misinterpreting my motives. For me this is primarily a moral question, not a matter of convenience. Just as you like preserving your antique office equipment, so I like to stick to a few archaic ethical values. They both come in handy sometimes.’
Jensen refrained from answering.
‘Have you finished your private chat?’ asked the minister.
‘Yes.’
‘In that case let me inform you that I fully understand the implications of what you said. If I don’t prove compliant on every point, you’ll have me butchered. You may even do it personally.’
‘That’s about it,’ said the doctor.
‘For me, that’s a very persuasive argument. What do you want to know?’
The police doctor said nothing further. He nodded and returned to his place by the window.
Jensen studied his notes. A minute or two went by, and then he said:
‘You’re claiming the agent was considered to be harmless?’
‘Yes. Otherwise we naturally wouldn’t have used it.’
‘Who suggested using it?’
‘It wasn’t me.’
‘Who?’
‘That’s a complicated question. It requires me to explain various things.’
Jensen gave the man about thirty seconds to muster his thoughts. Then he said:
