“Well, what is it now?” asked Edgren in an exasperated voice.
“The principal charges are aggravated rape, unlawful deprivation of liberty, gross violation of integrity, unlawful coercion, and accessory to kidnapping,” said Edvardsson quietly. Grundström’s face turned pale as she said this and moisture began to form on his forehead.
“This is beyond bizarre. You said ‘charges.’ Surely you don’t actually intend to bring these insane accusations against a man like Herr Grundström.”
“They’re well-founded accusations, as you’ll see, Herr Edgren,” Edvardsson replied, turning to Ekman.
He reached under the table for his briefcase and taking out a computer, opened it so the two men could also see the screen. Then he played Skarin’s video of a man whose face was turned away, having sex with a woman gagged and tied to a bed.
They all watched, mesmerized, for several minutes.
“We didn’t come here to see pornography,” said Edgren dismissively.
“Wait a bit,” said Ekman.
The man turned toward the hidden camera. It was Grundstrom.
Edgren was silent for a long moment. His face registered shock as he glanced over at Grundström, who was now perspiring profusely. His client obviously hadn’t prepared him for this. Edgren attempted to recover.
“Herr Grundström is now a single man. He’s free to have sexual relations with whomever he chooses.”
“But not forcible relations with an enslaved woman, Herr Edgren,” said Edvardsson. Her voice was cold.
“That isn’t clear from this video. The woman could simply have been playacting.”
“We have other evidence that makes it quite clear.”
“I’d like to see this evidence.”
“You will, as we both prepare for trial.”
“So you’re really going to charge Herr Grundström?” He sounded incredulous.
“Yes,” said Ekman. “And we also know that he was the person who introduced Haake to this rape and slavery ring. We have even more reason now to believe that he may have killed him to prevent disclosure after Haake’s picture was publicized.”
“But you’re not going to charge him with murder too, I hope?”
“Not yet,” said Ekman, standing, and walking over to the interview room door to open it. He gestured to the two constables waiting outside.
Turning to Grundström, he said. “You’re under arrest. You’ve heard the charges.”
The officers went to Grundström, pulled his arms behind his back, and handcuffed his wrists. He didn’t protest and offered no resistance. His normally erect posture had collapsed, and his pallid face sagged.
Edgren had gotten up. “Håkan, don’t worry. I’ll see what can be done about this,” he said, as the officers led Grundström from the room.
The attorney turned to Edvardsson. “Surely, confinement isn’t necessary for a man of Herr Grundström’s stature?”
She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Just how much stature can a snake have, Herr Edgren?”
79
ANOTHER CONFERENCE
Sunday, February 19, 2 p.m. It was a dismal afternoon, with a cold rain falling in sheets. Despite this, media representatives packed the large assembly room.
At the team meeting that morning, Ekman had told them about the conference Norlander had scheduled. From his seat on the platform, he could see them standing along the back of the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we need to start the conference. Please take your seats,” said Lena Sahlin, the tall, fortyish, media-relations officer.
There was some shuffling about and everyone found a chair as talk gradually subsided. The TV cameras on each side of the room scanned the speakers’ platform and then focused on Sahlin.
“Thank you all for coming on such a gloomy Sunday,” she said. “I’ll give the microphone now to Commissioner Norlander.”
Norlander, impeccably dressed as usual in a dark, custom-made suit, walked to the podium and looked around the room.
“I see we have a full house today. Let me add my thanks to Fru Sahlin’s for coming here on short notice. I’d like to introduce you again to our new prosecutor, Fröken Malin Edvardsson. I said ‘again’ because, as most of you know, she previously served with distinction as Weltenborg’s prosecutor before moving on to Malmö. She’s graciously agreed to return on a temporary basis,” he said, turning to Edvardsson as she came forward.
She stood beside him for a moment and smiled at the crowd, waving to a few reporters she knew, before going back to her seat.
“Now I’ll turn the meeting over to Chief Superintendent Ekman who heads the investigation you’ve all been covering.”
Ekman came forward and leaned on the lectern.
“My thanks too to everyone for coming out on such a bitter day. I’ll make a brief statement, Prosecutor Edvardsson will speak, and then we’ll try to answer your questions.
“I’m glad to be able to tell you that our investigation of the multiple murders is moving ahead aggressively. We’ve been making what I believe is exceptional progress lately, although because it’s an ongoing investigation I can’t as yet share details, as I’m sure you can understand.
“I can say, however, that in the course of these murder investigations we’ve uncovered evidence of a widespread drug-distribution network. We’ve also found very disturbing evidence of a ring of individuals who rape kidnapped and enslaved women.”
The reporters, who’d been listening intently, started talking excitedly among themselves. Ekman held up a hand for silence.
“Fröken Edvardsson will tell you more about this ring in just a moment. Before she does, I want to ask your help publicizing the search for a man we’d like to question in connection with these crimes. His name is Thore Ostlund,” Ekman said, holding up a large photo taken from his driver’s license.
“Fru Sahlin will distribute copies of this photo and his physical description to you as you leave. We believe he’s dangerous and may be armed, so please emphasize to the public that he’s not to be approached. Anyone seeing him should contact the nearest police headquarters or phone us at the large red number at the bottom of the photo.
“I know Prosecutor Edvardsson will give you as much information as she can, but again, I want to remind you that we’re in the middle of an intensive investigation and can’t share details.” Ekman turned to Edvardsson who got up and came to the lectern.
She reached up and adjusted the microphone to her diminutive stature. The talking that had sprung up again died down and she waited until the room was completely quiet.
“As Herr Ekman has said, multiple other crimes have been uncovered during his murder investigations. A major, international drug-distribution network was discovered and is being broken up as we speak.
“A gang of rapists has also been uncovered. These men brutalized women who were made sex slaves after being kidnapped from all over Europe. Their victims were later sold into a life of slavery in the Middle East. We know who these rapists are and they now have been arrested.
“I regret to tell you that they are all prominent Swedish men. Some of their names will be familiar to you and the public. Yesterday we charged them with the major crimes each of these men are accused of: aggravated rape, unlawful deprivation of liberty, gross violation of integrity, unlawful coercion, and accessory to kidnapping. One of these men I’m speaking of is well known in financial circles: his name is Håkan Grundström.”
The room again exploded with loud talk. Edvardsson stood quietly until the noise subsided.
“Fru Sahlin is handing out a list of all the men’s names, ages, and occupations. They will be formally arraigned tomorrow on the charges I’ve mentioned.
“Now Herr Ekman and I will be glad to try and answer any questions you have,” Edvardsson concluded, as Ekman joined her at the microphone.
She pointed to a heavyset reporter in the front row.
“It’s nice to see you again, Fröken Edv
ardsson, but what happened to Herr Kallenberg?” he asked.
“I understand he resigned for personal reasons.”
“Would they have anything to do with these cases?”
“I have no information about why he resigned.”
The man persisted. “How about you, Herr Ekman, do you know why he left?”
“I really couldn’t say,” Ekman replied. It was a subject he wouldn’t talk about, ever. In his mind, Kallenberg was another of Skarin’s many victims and deserved privacy. He knew, however, that once reporters found out Kallenberg had been his partner, some would suggest that he was implicated in Skarin’s crimes. But there was nothing Ekman could do about that.
He gestured to a woman two rows back, who was waving her hand wildly.
“You said that these drug and rape gangs were discovered during your murder investigations. Are they the reasons for the killings?”
“We believe the deaths are related to these crimes.”
“Can you tell us how they’re connected?”
“I’m sorry, but that has to remain confidential while the investigations are ongoing.”
Edvardsson motioned to a well-dressed man farther back.
“I represent Göteborgs Industri,” he said, naming a widely circulated financial paper. “It will come as a great shock to our readers, and to major financial institutions throughout Scandinavia, to learn about Herr Grundström’s arrest on these appalling charges. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
“Please believe me, I thought very carefully before bringing such charges against a prominent banker. There’s not the slightest doubt in my mind that he committed these crimes.”
A woman from one of the TV networks stood up and Edvardsson gestured to her as the cameras zoomed in.
“I’ve been looking at the list of the other men you’ve charged with the same crimes as Herr Grundström. I think our viewers will find the names very distressing. These are all well-known people. If you’re wrong, these accusations alone can destroy their lives and their families.”
“Let me reiterate that I have no doubt whatsoever that these men have committed the terrible crimes with which they’ve been charged. I don’t know how much more unequivocal I can be, even though I understand that some people may have a hard time accepting this.”
“How come you’re so certain?” said Bruno Haeggman, as he stood up.
“As you know only too well, Herr Haeggman,” Ekman answered for her, “Prosecutor Edvardsson can’t fully reveal her reasons yet because they’re tied to my ongoing investigations. When they’re completed and all the facts come out, I think everyone will agree with her.”
“At least tell us what you’re going to do at the arraignment.”
“What I will do tomorrow, Herr Haeggman, is present the full charges against these defendants, and they’ll be able to enter pleas of guilty or not guilty. Then I’ll ask the court to continue their detention since they’re all flight risks.”
Haeggman responded in an angry tone. “I, and probably everybody else here,” he looked around as he said this, “will be there to see what happens. But you’re holding back information from us and the public that we have a right to know, aren’t you?”
“I can’t say more now,” she said mildly, and turning, walked back to her seat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you have all the information we’re able to share with you at this time,” said Ekman. There was an audible groan from the media people.
“Thank you again for coming, and for your help. Please remember to pick up the photo of Ostlund as you leave.”
“They weren’t particularly happy, were they?” said Norlander. “But then, they never are.”
“I think Malin and I gave them some meat to chew on.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling, “They may act frustrated, but they actually love to keep their audiences on the edges of their seats waiting for another episode so they’ll buy the next issue and stay tuned to the TV.”
80
ARRAIGNMENT
Monday, February 20, 1:30 p. m. Ekman and Rapp were having lunch again in the small restaurant across Stortorget Square from headquarters. It had been a long morning in court for both of them. Ekman was feeling tired and still had a full day’s work ahead preparing for his trip tomorrow to Morocco.
The courtroom had become so crowded with defendants, their attorneys, some family members, media representatives, and police that the district judge had moved the hearing to a larger room down the hall. The officers who’d escorted the defendants from their cells, and Ekman, Rapp, and Rystrom, sat to one side of the room.
When order was again established, at the judge’s request, Edvardsson stepped to the microphone.
“Madam President, each and every defendant is accused of the following crimes,” she said, and read the lengthy list.
As the judge called their names, each of the eight men came forward and was asked how he pleaded.
“Not guilty to all charges,” was the uniform response.
“Fröken Edvardsson,” the judge said, “you’ve requested extended detention for these defendants.”
“Yes, considering the gravity of the charges, the lengthy prison sentence they face if convicted, and their financial ability, these defendants are serious flight risks.”
The judge looked at the defense attorneys. “Do you want to oppose the prosecutor’s request?”
An attorney came forward. “My name is Birghir Edgren, Madam President, and I represent Herr Håkan Grundström. By agreement with other counsel, I’m authorized to speak for all the defendants. Each of these men is a prominent member of his community and profession. They have spotless reputations and have never been accused of any offense, let alone the grave crimes Fröken Edvardsson has charged them with.
“These accusations have forever damaged their professional standing and created terrible turmoil in their families. Prolonged detention will only serve to magnify the hardships they already have undergone. Their strong ties to their families and communities argue against them being flight risks. We ask that detention not be extended and that you allow these men to return to their homes and families until the trial.”
The judge turned to Edvardsson. “Do you have any further comments?”
“These charges of horrendous crimes against helpless women would never have been brought without a thorough examination of the evidence, which is indisputable. If you would like to see the videos that provide part of the basis for these charges, Madam President, I ask that it be done in camera because of their sexual nature.”
“The court will recess for an hour,” said the judge. “The prosecutor and attorneys for the defendants will accompany me to my chambers to view the prosecutor’s evidence.”
When the court reconvened, it was obvious from the shaken appearance of the attorneys and the judge’s grim expression that Edvardsson’s offer had had quite an impact.
The judge looked for a long moment at each of the men as though she were seeing them for the first time.
“The defendants are remanded to custody for two weeks,” she said.
The courtroom burst into loud noise as the despondent-looking men were led away and the media people made a dash for the exit.
81
DEPARTURE
Tuesday, February 21, 2:45 p.m. Ekman and Rystrom were waiting at the gate to board Royal Air Maroc’s direct three thirty flight from Arlanda to Casablanca’s Mohammed V Airport. They kept looking around for Valdis Granholm who was supposed to meet them there.
“I can’t imagine what’s keeping her,” said Rystrom. “Maybe I’d better try calling.”
Just as he took out his phone, she appeared and hurried over, breathless.
“Sorry to be late. The damn traffic held me up. I was afraid I’d miss the plane.”
Rystrom went over, hugged her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “We’re just glad you made it.”
Watching the two of them confirmed again for Ekman that
they were much more than colleagues. “It’s good to see you,” he said, as they heard the first boarding announcement.
In the police car driving them up to Arlanda, Ekman and Rystrom had talked about what they would do once they got to Casablanca.
“That ship will be arriving sometime tomorrow,” Ekman said. “And we need to be there when it docks to get those women off.”
“Valdis has been in touch with her Interpol contact in Rabat,” Rystrom said. “He’ll meet us at the airport and take us to the Moroccan police handling the operation. He’s explained the situation to them and they’ve agreed to arrange a suitable reception committee for the ship.”
“Besides police, we should have ambulances ready for the women,” Ekman said. “God knows what shape they’ll be in.”
“You’re right. I’ll be sure to mention that to Valdis so she can alert her contact. The women will need to recover before we can put them on a plane to Sweden.”
“Skarin indicated they’re from all over Eastern Europe. They may want to go home instead.”
“We’ll have to persuade them to come back to Sweden and testify against the men who raped them.”
“It could be a hard sell. It’s the sort of experience they won’t want to relive in a courtroom.”
“Yes, but they need to realize that testifying is the best way to make sure those bastards pay for what they did to them.”
“I agree; however, I’d understand it if they don’t care, and simply want to try and forget.”
“I guess all we can do is be as persuasive as possible. But after we get the women sorted out, what about this guy, Serhane?” asked Rystrom.
“There’s a good chance he’s one of the farmhouse killers. Let’s hope the Moroccan police know more about him than we do and can put their hands on him.”
That morning, as Ekman had packed for his trip, Ingbritt had been getting ready for her visit to Carla.
“I wish I were going with you,” he said.
“Well, hurry back and maybe you can join me. I know Carla and Johan will miss seeing you.”
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