She’s gone all out, Ekman thought. Well, why not. We don’t see Garth very often.
He sat down at the head of the table and gestured to the chair on his right for Rystrom.
“For this evening, the house rule is no shop talk,” Ekman said. “Politics, religion, and sports only, nothing as controversial as murder cases,”
“That’s okay with me.”
“So who’s your pick in the bandy championship next month?” Ekman asked, referring to the popular ice hockeylike game.
“Well, I should root for the home team, Stockholm’s Hammarby IF, but I really like Västerås SK.”
“Good choice. They’re mine too. So much for sports.” Ekman knew neither one of them had the time or inclination to follow the teams closely.
Ingbritt came in wheeling a serving cart with bottles of liquor and wine.
“What would you like, Garth?” Ekman said, going over to the cart.
“Maybe just a small glass of wine. I’ve got to drive later, but it should have worn off by then.”
“What’s the main course?” Ekman asked Ingbritt.
“I thought you and Garth might enjoy roast duck,” she said, “and so I opened that bottle of good Barolo we’ve been saving, to go with it.”
“That all sounds wonderful.”
“Garth, let me pour you some of this.” He raised the halffilled glass and inhaled. “It’s even better than I’d hoped,” he added, handing Rystrom the glass.
As she set the first course on the table, Ingbritt asked, “How are Myrie and the children, Garth?”
Rystrom had two grown daughters and several grandchildren. He paused before answering and said, “The girls and the little ones are fine.”
“And Myrie?”
“We separated three months ago.”
There was a long silence until Ingbritt said, “I’m so sorry to hear that, Garth. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. There’s nothing much to tell. We’d just grown apart. I guess twenty-six years of me was more than she could take.”
Police officers were notorious for having broken marriages. The irregular hours and constant, grinding pressure of dealing with crime was too much for many relationships.
Ekman looked closely at his friend.
“Is there anything we can do, Garth, to help make things easier?”
“No, Walther. But thanks for asking.”
The dinner was delicious, both men said and thanked Ingbritt profusely. But after Rystrom’s revelation, conversation had lagged. Right after the dessert of rhubarb pie, Rystrom looked at his watch and said he’d better be heading back to town. He seemed anxious to leave.
They said their good-byes, and Ekman and Ingbritt watched from the doorway as Rystrom’s car pulled out of the drive.
I was right after all, Ekman thought. There’s another woman. And she’s waiting for him at his hotel.
46
HULT INTERVIEW
Sunday, February 5, 8:45 a.m. Icy rain coming down in sheets from a cinder grey sky had shrunk the snowdrifts alongside the road, but frozen on the surface making driving treacherous, as Ekman headed to his office. He’d gotten up unusually late, and only had time for a hasty bowl of hot oatmeal and a cup of coffee, instead of their usual, large Sunday breakfast.
Ingbritt had said, “Please be careful, Walther, it looks bad out there.”
He’d grunted agreement as he pulled on his hooded parka and hurried to the garage.
Rapp had called at seven thirty that morning to tell him he was bringing in Marten Hult. They planned to start the interview at ten. Ekman had called Rystrom to let him know.
The three men sat on one side of the table facing Hult. He looked without expression from one to the other, but Ekman thought he was probably intimidated and wanted him to stay that way.
“It’s ten a.m., February 5. This is a formal interview with Marten Hult. I’m Chief Superintendent Ekman, with me are Superintendent Rystrom, and Chief Inspector Rapp,” he intoned for the video cameras peering down from the walls of the stark white interview room.
“Do you know why you’re here, Herr Hult?” he asked.
“I was asked to come and give a statement, something about Fredrik Haake’s death. It’s a hell of an inconvenience on my day off. I already spoke with your inspector at the house and told him everything I know. Which is exactly nothing.”
“We appreciate your cooperation,” said Rystrom. “However, there may be some information you’ve preferred not to share with us. For example, how you used your prison connections to put Haake in touch with the people who kidnapped the Dahlin woman he raped.”
Hult was obviously startled and didn’t answer for a moment. “I’ve got nothing to do with that.”
Rapp said, “We don’t believe you, Hult. Every time you deny something we know, you dig yourself in deeper. Make it easier on yourself and tell us who you sent Haake to.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I never did anything like that.” But he didn’t sound convincing. Ekman thought he was lying. Was he afraid to give them the name of his contact?
“I don’t have anything to tell you. Can we get this over with? There are things I need to do today.”
“Would one of those things be fucking the late Herr Haake’s wife?” asked Rapp, suddenly switching the subject. Gerdi had briefed them the previous afternoon about Kajsa Haake’s revelations.
Hult’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t expected such a brutal frontal assault.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do,” said Ekman. “And it makes you a likely suspect for Haake’s murder.”
“Now wait a minute, wait a minute,” a flustered Hult said, his composure gone. “All right, I admit it, we’ve fooled around, but I had nothing to do with his death. And I’ve got an alibi.”
“Yes, Fru Haake has said you were in the house Wednesday evening. It’s convenient that it was the cook’s night off and so there’s no one else to confirm it.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Why should we believe you, Hult, or her? You’ve a record of violence. Maybe getting rid of Haake would have opened new possibilities with the lady that she welcomed. She’s a rich widow now, and you already have an inside track, so to speak,” said Rapp.
“She’d never go for it. I’m not her type—except in bed.”
“Do you know about her other lovers?” asked Rystrom.
“Yeah, I know and don’t care.”
“If she picked one instead of you and he suddenly died, who do you think we’d come looking for?” Rapp asked.
“I told you I’m okay with it. If she marries one of them, that’s all right with me.”
“Then you’d be out of both your jobs: as houseman and lover,” said Rapp.
“So I’ll find another job. And there are plenty of other women.”
“When did you and Fru Haake first decide to kill her husband? Was it right after the Jakobsson murder? Is that why you used a wire, so we’d think it was connected?” asked Ekman.
Hult turned pale. “I already told you I had nothing to do with it. We never talked about it and you can’t prove otherwise,” he replied in an agitated voice.
“Suppose we believe you. Maybe Fru Haake planned the killing with one of her other lovers,” said Ekman.
“She wouldn’t do that. She’s not that sort of person.”
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think,” said Rystrom.
Hult paused. “You’ve got her all wrong. Haake left her alone. She got along with him fine. There was no reason to kill him.”
But now he’s considering it, thought Ekman. Maybe this will start a rift between them that we can exploit.
“It’s something to think about, isn’t it? This interview is over … for now,” said Ekman, standing.
“We’ll want to speak with you again, Hult. Don’t leave Weltenborg without notifying us. The constable at the door will show you out.”
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The three were seated in Ekman’s office going over the interrogation.
“How did he seem to you?” asked Ekman.
“Very nervous,” said Rapp.
“But anyone would be, under the circumstances,” said Rystrom.
“Do we agree he probably put Haake onto the trafficking ring?” asked Ekman.
Rystrom and Rapp both nodded.
“So how do we get the information out of him?” Ekman said.
“All we can do is keep the pressure on about Haake’s murder. He might think that giving us the name of his contact would get us to ease up on him as a murder suspect,” said Rystrom.
“I agree,” Rapp said.
“He’s still a strong possibility as the killer. Could he have planned it with Haake’s wife?” Ekman asked.
“Yes, and she gave him his alibi,” answered Rystrom.
“A rich widow who couldn’t stand her late, unlamented husband is a hell of a motive,” said Rapp.
“But unless one of them cracks, we’ve got no evidence,” said Ekman.
“So we keep after both of them,” said Rapp.
“But if they’re innocent, there’s no way for them to prove it,” Rystrom added.
“We have to assume they’re guilty until our other theory bears fruit. Justice demands it,” Ekman said with a twisted smile.
47
NEW ARRANGEMENT
Friday, February 3, 11 a.m. There was a knock at the door of Karim’s suite at the Grand. He got up from the living room couch, limped down the hallway, and opened the door to Ivar.
“Please come in,” he said and led the way back into the living room. He gestured to the couch and sat in a facing armchair. Ivar took off his coat and hat and placed them beside him.
There was a coffee service with two cups on the low table in front of the couch.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, thanks, that sounds fine. It’s another miserable day out there.”
Karim poured cups for both of them.
He could tell from Ivar’s voice that he’d been surprised when he’d called last night. Ivar evidently hadn’t expected him back so soon. He’d again resisted the idea of meeting at the hotel, suggesting instead the café they’d met in before. But Karim had been insistent that they needed privacy for this meeting. He wanted it to take place on his terms.
“That was a fast round trip. I assume you went back to Morocco?”
“It was a little stressful, but I had to meet with my principal. There were some questions that could only be discussed in person.”
“But now you have your answers?”
“Yes, and we need to talk about them.”
“Are you and your boss unhappy with our arrangement? It’s been very profitable for all of us.”
“You’re right, it’s been quite successful, but things have changed. The girl’s public death, the search for Ahmed, and now the murder of your prominent client, Fredrik Haake, have focused too much police attention on the women side of the operation.”
“That’s a temporary situation. We’ll keep a low profile for now. Things will die down after a while and return to normal.”
“My boss and I don’t agree. We think the risk level has become too high. If the police should uncover one side of the business, the other side would quickly follow. And that’s where most of the profits are, for both of us. It’s in our mutual interest to protect the drug operation.”
“What do you propose?” Ivar said in a friendly tone.
“You need to get out of women trafficking immediately.”
“What if we just stop the reciprocal arrangement?”
“That won’t be good enough. The police could unravel your drug distribution network if they uncover the trafficking business, whether that side of it is with us or someone else.”
“What if I could guarantee that the police investigation will soon end, marked ‘unsolves’?”
“How could that be?”
“Let’s just say I have highly placed connections.”
Karim considered this for a moment.
“We can’t risk it. There’s too much media attention for these deaths to be swept under the rug, even by ‘highly placed connections.’”
“If we agree to your idea, we’ll lose fees from our clients here. And we’ll both lose money on the women’s resale in Marrakech.”
“We recognize that. We’ll just have to absorb the loss. To make this easier for you, we’re willing to reduce the price of the drugs.”
“By how much?”
“Five percent.”
“That’s not nearly enough. Twenty percent.”
“Eight.”
“Fifteen.”
“Ten, and that’s our final offer.”
“It won’t begin to offset our loss,” Ivar said.
“We’re each going to take a hit, but it’s the safest course.”
“And if the police investigation does end, what then?”
“Then we can revisit this, but as of now, this new arrangement holds.”
“I’ll agree … for now.”
“You’ll have to start shutting down your trafficking operation.”
“It will take at least a week. The ship isn’t due to arrive until then.”
“They’ll be the last shipment.”
“And we’ll have to notify our clients. They’ll be extremely unhappy.”
Karim shrugged. He couldn’t care less about discomforted perverts.
Ivar picked up his hat and coat as they both got up.
Karim walked him to the door.
“I can’t honestly say it’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Ivar said.
“Look at it this way. We’ll all be able to breathe easier with this new arrangement.”
“Perhaps,” replied Ivar. “We’ll see.” He turned and walked down the hall toward the elevators.
Karim watched him leave for a moment before closing the door and limping back to the living room.
He picked up the phone and called Marrakech.
“He accepted the deal,” he said, and hung up. But he was troubled; Ivar had agreed too easily. If he reneged, he would have to be dealt with.
48
NEW MEMBER
Monday, February 6, 8 a.m. The team members were in their usual places around the table, but the chair on Ekman’s left was now occupied by Arvid Kallenberg. The others glanced at him, but said nothing. The prosecutor had never chosen to join them before.
Ekman introduced him. “The media attention this case is getting has persuaded Prosecutor Kallenberg to participate in our meetings.” Then he turned to him. “Would you like to say a few words?”
Kallenberg looked around the table. “First, I want to congratulate all of you on how quickly you’ve developed this investigation. Chief Ekman has been briefing me on your progress and I’m impressed with the work you’ve done. Second, I want to assure you that he will continue to lead the investigation. He has my complete confidence and support. My role will be limited to observing, and perhaps making a few suggestions.” He turned to Ekman.
“Thanks,” said Ekman. “Okay, let me bring everyone up to date.” He summarized the interview with Marten Hult and the conclusions the three interviewers had reached.
“What do the rest of you think?”
“I agree, Chief,” said Holm. “Hult is the most likely contact for Haake with the traffickers.”
“The most likely, but not necessarily the actual one,” said Vinter.
“But Gerdi,” said Holm, “what else do we have to go on? Haake wouldn’t have just run into them at a bankers’ meeting.”
“You’re outvoted, Gerdi,” said Rosengren. “Alenius and I also think Hult’s the contact man.”
“But Gerdi does have a point,” said Rystrom. “While Hult looks like our best bet, we can’t be certain.”
“We should be very careful before implicating this man in a criminal conspiracy,” put in Kall
enberg. “If it should leak, we could ruin an innocent person and expose the police to damages.”
“You’re right,” said Ekman. “But we need to convince ourselves that he’s not involved. I think we should tap his phone and put him under twenty-four-hour surveillance for the next week. If nothing turns up, then we can assume Gerdi is right and we have to look elsewhere. Will you agree to that?” he asked Kallenberg.
The prosecutor was silent for a moment. “All right, but just a week.”
“I’ll be glad to bring in my technical people and surveillance teams,” said Rystrom.
“Thanks, Garth. We’ll need the help,” Ekman said. He meant it, but from now on he knew he’d have to struggle to retain control as both the prosecutor and his friend from Stockholm CID became increasingly involved.
49
GRUNDSTRÖM
Monday, February 6, 2 p.m. Enar Holm and Gerdi Vinter sat in his imposing corner office across a large mahogany desk from Håkan Grundström, the bank’s new CEO. He was a well-built man of fifty, who was observing them with considerable distaste written on his handsome, craggy face.
“This warrant is outrageous,” he said. “It’s ridiculous and much too broad. I’m seriously considering having our counsel fight this in court. You have no reason to see dozens of documents relating to our proposed merger. They can have no conceivable bearing on Fredrik’s death.”
He slapped the warrant against the palm of his left hand. Grundström could delay them, but a court battle could hurt the bank’s carefully nurtured reputation as a scrupulously law-abiding pillar of the community, and might damage the merger they’d gone to such pains to promote.
“You’ll have to let us make that judgment,” Holm said in a flat tone. “In a murder investigation there’s no way to tell if some background document might provide critical information.”
“I can assure you that that will not be the case in this instance. But I guess my word isn’t going to be good enough for the police.”
Holm was adamant. “You can start by telling us the name of the bank you’re proposing to merge with.”
“All right, but you must agree to keep this confidential. If it got out it would affect the stock prices of both our banks and possibly endanger the merger.”
Spice Trade Page 14
