Ingbritt was quiet for a moment. “Walther, I don’t know what would be best for you to do. But sometimes, when I’m writing a children’s book and feel blocked, I’ve gone back to the beginning to look for a new approach.”
Ekman considered this. “Maybe you’re right. Thanks, I’ll think about it.”
He sat in his study wondering what that new approach might be as he went over the case from the moment the Dahlin woman fell. What weren’t they seeing?
Then it came to him. It was so obvious he couldn’t believe they’d missed it. Drugs.
Lynni Dahlin had been drugged to get her to that apartment. She’d dropped her boyfriend when she’d found out he was dealing drugs. They’d assumed that Jakobsson had been killed because he knew something about Dahlin’s death and its connection to the women trafficking, but maybe his murder was really about drugs.
And Joumari, Chafik’s uncle, was a major figure in drugs as well as prostitution in many Muslim countries.
All along they’d been too focused on the women trafficking to see that a drug operation could also be behind the multiple deaths.
Ekman felt energized. Tomorrow morning he’d ask Rystrom to talk with the CID section that handled national drug investigations.
64
DRUGS
Monday, February 13, 8 a.m. The team members and Kallenberg were standing around the sideboard drinking coffee and munching the pastries Ekman had ordered when he came into the conference room.
As they took their seats, he went over and grabbed a cup and a sweet roll before sitting down.
“The Grundström interview I told you about on Saturday was the last time we’ll be speaking with him. Unless we come up with something that clearly ties him to the Haake killing, it’s hands off. That’s yesterday’s order from above.”
“But, Chief, we need to find out if it was a copycat murder, and Grundström is a more likely suspect than Hult,” protested Holm.
“Yes, you’re right, Enar. And I’m not happy about it.” He glanced at Kallenberg as he said this. “It’s what the commissioner wants and he’s the boss, so we have to put that line of inquiry to one side for now.”
“Politics,” rumbled Rapp. “Fucking politics.”
Kallenberg looked over at Rapp. “Let’s not forget that Grundström’s presumed to be an innocent man. There’s nothing that proves otherwise.”
“It looks like we’ll never be able to get the evidence to do that Herr Kallenberg,” said Vinter.
Kallenberg just shrugged in reply.
“Okay,” said Ekman. “Moving on. What’s happening with the Hult surveillance?”
“Alenius and I took it over, and nothing’s happened, Chief,” said Rosengren. “There haven’t been any suspicious contacts that we could see.”
“And his phone conversations have been the same,” said Rapp.
“All right. That’s also not going anywhere then,” said Ekman.
“You’ve reached the end of the week’s surveillance on Hult that I authorized,” put in Kallenberg. “Close it down. We’ll have to assume he wasn’t involved in Haake’s death.”
Ekman frowned; he would have preferred to continue the surveillance for at least another week, but there was nothing he could do except say, “Agreed.”
“I’ve been considering a new approach,” Ekman said, and outlined his idea about the involvement of a drug operation.
“What do you think?” he asked them.
“You’re onto something, Chief,” said Rosengren enthusiastically.
“We should have thought of that before,” said Rapp, shaking his head. “We zeroed in on the women trafficking right away and completely overlooked the drug angle.”
“So are we all agreed this is worth pursuing?” asked Ekman, looking around the table, and ending at Kallenberg. The others nodded.
“It should be looked into,” said Kallenberg. “But let’s not do it the way the copycat murder idea was handled. We don’t want to start surveillance of a lot of innocent people that leads nowhere.”
Ekman stared at him. Kallenberg could be a stickler for legalities, but he was already sounding unnecessarily negative at the start of this new inquiry.
“Garth,” said Ekman, “could you speak with the national drug squad and see if they have anything that looks like it might be connected to our case?”
“I’ll do that right away, Walther.”
“Alrik, before our team starts to check out the local drug scene, coordinate with Annborg Eliasson,” Ekman said, referring to the head of Weltenborg’s own drug squad.
“She may already be able to identify Jakobsson’s supplier. And ask her to tomorrow’s meeting,”
Ekman stood up. “See you all then.”
Later that morning, Rystrom came into Ekman’s office and sat down.
“Any luck?” asked Ekman.
“Yes and no. The head of the drug enforcement section is a chief superintendent named Holmger Gradin. He has a reputation as a tough guy, a heavy-duty enforcer of the national zero-tolerance policy. I’ve worked with him, off and on, for the last ten years with mixed results. I described our case over the phone and he agreed that the drug angle probably should be explored.”
“So?”
“But he doesn’t have the manpower to help us with it and he’s not about to let us in on any of his current investigations. He plays everything close to the vest. I guess it’s understandable because he’s had some problems in the past with leaks screwing up drug busts. All he would say is that there’s been an increase over the last few years in heroin being brought in,” Rystrom said.
“When I mentioned that we’ve been looking at that spice company in Stockholm in connection with the women trafficking case, he immediately changed the subject, and said he had to get back to work.”
“That’s interesting. It sounds like there’s something there we need to take a closer look at,” Ekman said.
“I agree.”
“Unfortunately when I’d suggested we start a surveillance operation on the company, Kallenberg refused.”
“It can’t hurt to ask again,” said Rystrom.
65
SECOND REQUEST
Monday, February 13, 2:30 p.m. Arvid Kallenberg greeted Ekman in his usual friendly manner and led him over to a couple of armchairs near the windows overlooking the park. The morning rain had cleared, but dark, scudding clouds, driven by a strong wind, still raced across the sky.
“You sounded like it was important, Walther, so I moved another meeting. What can I do for you?”
Ekman described the conversation Rystrom had had with the head of drug enforcement.
“It’s suggestive, but what would you like me to do?”
“I think it’s time to reconsider my request for surveillance of the spice company.”
“I see,” said Kallenberg, and getting up, looked out the window.
“You said that Gradin didn’t want to talk about the company?” Kallenberg asked.
“Yes, that’s what Garth thought.”
“It could indicate that he already has an investigation underway.”
“It’s possible, I suppose, or he’s considering it.”
“Well, in either case, I don’t think we should get in his way. They’re the experts when it comes to drug-related matters. Let them handle it.”
“Gradin didn’t tell Garth that we shouldn’t interfere.”
“Perhaps because it’s highly confidential. All the more reason for us to just leave it alone. We don’t want to mess up an ongoing operation. Stockholm wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“I think a multiple murder investigation should have priority.”
“You’re right, Walther. But let’s compromise. Let’s wait a couple of weeks and give Gradin a chance to complete any investigation. If nothing’s happened by then, I’ll reconsider the surveillance. How’s that?”
“Frankly, Arvid, in view of the urgency of our own investigation, I don’t think it’s good
enough.” Ekman had difficulty keeping the anger out of his voice.
“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, Walther, but it seems to me the best course.”
Ekman had gotten up.
“We mustn’t let this little disagreement spoil our good working relationship,” Kallenberg said, and then walking ahead, opened the door for him.
66
LOCAL DRUGS
Tuesday, February 14, 8 a.m. When Ekman came into the conference room he saw that Chief Inspector Eliasson had joined them. She was a short, stout woman of fifty, with a brisk manner. Eliasson was extremely competent, and so effective that although she reported to Ekman, he let her work virtually on her own and submit periodic reports.
“Annborg, thanks for joining us. I’m sure Alrik has filled you in on the case we’re working. We need your expertise.”
“I’m glad to help, Walther. It sounds like you’ve got a complicated problem that’s been getting an awful lot of public attention.”
“Unfortunately. It’s added to the urgency.”
As everyone took their seats, Ekman looked around and saw that Kallenberg was missing. He was still upset with him and decided not to wait.
“As you know, this all started out with a woman’s death due to trafficking,” Ekman said, “and then expanded into a triple murder case. Different avenues we’ve explored have dead-ended, so now we want to see if a connection to drugs might open up the case. Is this a sound approach?”
“It’s certainly a possible one, Walther. I’ve been thinking about it since Alrik briefed me yesterday. As I understand it, you want to find out who was Jakobsson’s dealer and then trace the supply chain.”
“That’s right. We originally thought he was killed because he knew something about the woman’s death, but it could have been a drug deal that went sour.”
The others had been listening intently to this exchange.
“We now know that Chafik was killed before Jakobsson, and in the same way, with a garrote,” said Vinter. “This could mean that Chafik was also involved in the same bad drug deal.”
“But what about Haake?” asked Holm. “If it wasn’t a copycat murder, was he dealing drugs too?”
Vinter was silent, considering this. “Could be. Just because he was a prominent banker, doesn’t mean he couldn’t also be a drug dealer.”
“Jakobsson was a small-time pusher,” said Eliasson. “I checked our file on him and mostly, he worked alone. He had one or two friends in the business. We’ll need to squeeze them to see if a supplier’s name comes up. For now, we don’t know who it was. What we do know is that over the last couple of years there’s been an increase in available drugs in Weltenborg, particularly heroin.”
“Unlike illicit prescription drugs, it’s got to be coming in from Asia,” said Ekman. “Garth spoke yesterday with Holmger Gradin and from the conversation, or rather what he wouldn’t talk about, we suspect that Stockholm’s been looking at a spice importing company we’re interested in. Have you heard anything about that?”
Eliasson shook her head. “Sorry, Holmger wouldn’t share information like that with local drug enforcement. But I’ve got some contacts up there. I’ll ask around.”
“Thanks, Annborg. And I’d like you to join our team from now on.”
Ekman glanced around the table. “Let’s see what Annborg can find out about Jakobsson and the spice company and we’ll take it from there,” he said as he stood up, ending the meeting. They hadn’t yet gotten the answers they needed, but he was hopeful Eliasson could discover something.
Back in his office, Ekman called Kallenberg to bring him up to date. His assistant said he wasn’t in. He was at a conference in Stockholm and wasn’t expected until tomorrow.
67
RETRIBUTION
Tuesday, February 14, 7:20 p.m. Ivar was running late for his own seven o’clock meeting. He’d set it at the farm to discuss the drug distribution operation and his plan to disregard the arrangement with Karim: they’d need to find new women and other buyers. As he pulled into the dark farmhouse yard, he saw that Marta already was there and he parked next to her car.
A light was on upstairs, but the ground floor was dark. That’s strange, he thought, as he went up the porch steps.
The front door, usually kept locked, was partly open.
“Hello, Marta?” he called as he came in. His hand groped for the light switch, found it, flicked it a few times, but nothing happened. The damn bulb must be out.
He moved toward the stairs, dimly visible in light from the bedroom above.
Ivar heard a slight sound behind him and had started to turn as the killing wire noose came down over his head, rapidly tightening around his throat. A harsh voice whispered something in his ear, but he couldn’t make out the words as he struggled to breathe.
His arms flailed about trying to find his attacker, but it was futile. As the wire cut more deeply into his throat, severing his windpipe, he collapsed.
Strong arms gripped Ivar’s armpits, and dragged his body out of the hall and into the kitchen. The killer went back to his car to wait for other arrivals.
Ten minutes later, Thore Ostlund drove into the yard and parked next to the two other cars. The only light on was upstairs.
The door was wide open.
“Ivar, Marta, are you up there?” he called. “What’s wrong with the lights?” He tried to turn them on, but nothing happened.
He could make out the stairs and moved toward them. They creaked as he climbed up.
Ostlund went down the small hall to the bedroom on the right where light shone through the partially open door.
He pushed it open.
Marta was sprawled across the bed, her face contorted in a horrifying grimace, her tongue protruding from her mouth.
He stared transfixed, his eyes drawn to the thin red line around her throat. There was no need to check, she was obviously dead. What the hell was going on? And where was Ivar?
Ostlund backed out of the room and ran down the stairs. Turning at the bottom, he went into the kitchen and groped for the light switch. It worked. Light flooded the room.
Ivar’s body lay in the middle of the floor. His friend’s protruding eyes and distorted features told Ostlund he was dead, with the same red line around his throat as Marta’s.
He didn’t know what to do. His mind refused to function. He heard a footstep behind him and he spun around quickly to see Gotz.
Gotz looked with an amazed expression at Ivar’s body and then at Ostlund.
“When did this happen?”
“You should know. You did it. You’re fucking insane,” Ostlund said, as he pulled out a pistol from under his jacket, racked the slide, and aimed it at Gotz.
“Now wait a minute, wait a minute, I had nothing to do with this. I just got here.”
“I don’t believe you. And you killed Marta.”
“Marta’s dead too?” Gotz’s voice and face registered his shock.
“Don’t play innocent. She’s upstairs, garroted like Ivar.”
“I didn’t do it. You’ve got to believe me.” He sounded desperate.
“No one else uses a garrote. I told Ivar you were out of control when you killed Haake.”
“I never did.”
“Now you’ve gone completely mad. But you’re not going to get a chance to kill me too,” Ostlund said, and raised the gun.
In desperation Gotz lunged at him and Ostlund fired, hitting him in the chest. He staggered back and Ostlund fired two more times.
Gotz’s dead body fell across Ivar’s.
Ostlund looked around with a wild-eyed expression and then ran from the house to his car. He didn’t know where he was going yet, he just knew he had to get away, far away.
From behind the barn where it had been hidden, the car that had followed Marta from Stockholm pulled out with its headlights off and followed him at a distance.
68
KALLENBERG’S REQUEST
Wednesday, February 15
, 9:30 a.m. The team meeting that morning had been brief; Eliasson was still working on yesterday’s assignment. Until she came up with a lead, they were stymied. Kallenberg hadn’t been there again and Ekman decided not to call him. Maybe the prosecutor was losing interest. It was just as well.
Ekman was in his office trying to clean up some of the routine matters that had gotten pushed to one side during the investigation when the phone rang.
It was Kallenberg.
“Walther, I need to speak with you. Could you come by my office in half an hour?”
“Certainly, Arvid. I’ll see you then.”
Ekman was surprised. He wondered what Kallenberg wanted now. Was the case going to hit another roadblock?
It was chilly and damp from the morning’s cold rain. Looking out the windows he could see that the wind had picked up. He decided to walk anyway. It’s only a few blocks and God knows I need the exercise, he thought.
Bundled in his heavy overcoat and with a warm woollen cap pulled firmly down, he set out for the landmark Belle Époque courthouse.
The police guard on duty saluted him as he came into the foyer. He returned the salute with a wave of his hand and took the ancient, gilded elevator up. He’d had his exercise and taking the stairs would be overdoing it.
When he came into Kallenberg’s office, he found him pacing by the windows.
Kallenberg turned when he heard him enter.
“Thank you for coming right away, Walther. Can I get you some coffee?”
“That sounds good. It’s biting cold out there.”
Kallenberg phoned his assistant and asked for two coffees that soon arrived.
Seated in armchairs near the windows, the two men sipped their coffee quietly for a moment.
Kallenberg broke the silence. “Walther, as you can probably tell, I’m having some difficulty starting.”
Here it comes. Another problem with how I’m handling this investigation. Is he going to remove me?
“It’s a private matter that I think requires police attention,” he paused.
Ekman was relieved. It didn’t sound like what he’d been afraid of.
Spice Trade Page 18
