He hurried past the meeting room, which was also being used as an interview room, stopped and stuck his head in. Suddenly all his doubt disappeared. She was cuffed to the chair that Jarmo sat in each time there was a meeting. He had no idea what she looked like, yet he was certain: the long, golden-brown hair, the clear blue eyes, the golden-brown skin. It couldn’t be anyone else. Her neighbour was right. She was exceptionally beautiful.
She turned towards him as he came in, and he could see in her eyes that she knew who he was.
‘Aisha Shahin?’ he asked.
The woman nodded. ‘You took your time. I’ve been waiting for over five hours.’
‘What? You can speak Swedish?’ inquired the uniformed policeman, looking down at his note-filled papers. ‘Aren’t you from Iraq or something?’
‘You can throw those papers away,’ she said, as the policeman turned to Fabian, with a bewildered expression on his face.
‘I’ll take over from here.’ Fabian sat down, surprised by her calm demeanour. ‘Does this mean you intend to confess?’ She looked as if she had been waiting for just this opportunity.
To his surprise, she nodded again.
‘You admit to committing the murders of Carl-Eric Grimås, Adam Fischer, Semira Ackerman and most recently Diego Arcas?’
‘I doubt Arcas is dead, even though he’s the one who deserves it most. Besides that, the answer is yes.’
‘Would you answer the same way during an official interrogation?’
‘If you let me go to the washroom first. I’ve needed to go for an hour and a half.’
Fabian was about to say no. The last thing he wanted was to agree to any of her demands, but he couldn’t deny her a visit to the toilet. He unlocked her handcuffs, took them off the chair, and attached the free end around his own wrist, before showing her to the washrooms.
He decided to let her use the disabled toilet. For one thing there were no windows, in contrast to the larger bathrooms that had several stalls in a row, and he could lock her to one of the handrails. The only problem was that she couldn’t reach the door to lock herself in, but he solemnly assured her that he would stand right outside and wait until she was finished.
In the meantime, he took the opportunity to text Tomas and Jarmo, who were probably out having lunch, and informed them that he’d found her and intended to do a preliminary interview. He said that he preferred to do it alone, but would like them to come back as soon as possible after lunch.
No problem, Tomas texted back after only a second or two. Fabian admitted to himself that he had completely changed his opinion of him. Until now he’d mostly seen him as a cocky, steroid-popping young stallion without any analytical ability whatsoever. Initially, it had been impossible for him to understand how Jarmo put up with it or how Edelman could have hired him, for that matter.
But after the last few days, a different image of him had emerged. Sure, he was still just as irritating, but he was also more quick-thinking and focused than most of the others. Fabian was convinced that it was Tomas and not Jarmo who made sure to pack up the investigation so that nothing disappeared. Besides, he seemed to have an unusually strong sense of loyalty, both to the others in the group and with respect to discovering the truth.
Fabian kept looking at the clock. She’d been in there for almost ten minutes. He started to get the feeling that at any moment he’d be standing there with his trousers down realizing that he’d been fooled. There was something about her calm. It seemed to convey that she had nothing to worry about. Had he missed something? A crawl space? A way out that was so obvious that in retrospect he would never be able to figure out how he’d missed it?
He glanced at the clock again. Eleven-and-a-half minutes had now passed. Even though he could spend considerably longer in the bathroom, he knocked hard on the door and ordered her to hurry up. There was no response. Just as he knocked again, he realized what he’d missed and tore open the door.
Aisha Shahin was hanging from the wall hook with her legs barely on the floor and her cuffed arm angled straight out from the handrail. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes were closed; a twisted white hand towel was tightened around her neck.
Fabian hurried in, took her down from the hook and set her on the floor next to the toilet. He could feel her pulse, even if it was faint, but her breathing had stopped. He pressed his mouth against hers and filled her lungs with air over and over again, until she coughed and woke up.
‘Do you remember me?’ he asked, finally seeing worry in her eyes. ‘You’re not getting off that easy.’ He attached one part of the handcuffs around his own wrist again and pulled her up. ‘For your own sake I hope you’ve taken care of all your business because this is going to be a long interrogation.’
107
NORMALLY FABIAN WOULD OFFER his interview subjects a coffee or tea, and sometimes even something sweet. Experience had taught him that he tended to get more interesting answers when the person in question felt more relaxed. But this time he didn’t offer anything. He was still annoyed about her trick to try to kill herself, even if he did understand it. She had apparently finished her mission and had nothing left in this world.
But he was anything but done. He wanted to know why. What horrible thing had happened in her life to explain her actions? He wanted to know how she had planned and thought, and not only managed to overcome all the obstacles, but always be one step ahead. There were so many questions, far more than could be covered in one sitting.
But he didn’t intend to ask any of them now.
He started recording. ‘This is Fabian Risk. The time is sixteen minutes past three o’clock in the afternoon on 23 December 2009. I’m here with Aisha Shahin, who has declined the presence of a lawyer.’ He looked her in the eyes. ‘Did you take the lives of Carl-Eric Grimås, Adam Fischer and Semira Ackerman?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘Did you attack Diego Arcas and tear out his left eye?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
Fabian kept his eyes fixed on her. She did not show the slightest hint of being about to turn hers away. He wasn’t even certain that he’d seen her blink. ‘Have you kidnapped or abducted any others that I have not named who you are now holding prisoner?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘Can you give me their names?’
‘Sofie Leander and your colleague Malin Rehnberg.’
‘So they’re still alive?’
‘So far anyway.’
‘What have you done with them?’
‘Which one?’
‘Malin Rehnberg.’
‘Let’s start with Sofie. Malin is probably still sleeping, and as long as she continues to do so, she’s in no danger.’
Fabian thought about what that might mean, but decided to drop it for the time being. ‘Okay. So Sofie Leander. Which organ did you take from her?’
‘The left kidney.’
‘And why did you do that?’
‘It wasn’t hers.’
‘Whose was it then?’
‘Efraim’s.’
‘And who’s Efraim?’
Only then did her gaze shift, and he could see her swallow. She was weighing her words with care.
‘He was a man, a man I loved more than anything.’
‘Was he your husband?’
She shook her head and wiped her eyes with her cuffed hands.
‘The microphone only picks up sounds, so I’ll repeat the question. Was he your husband?’
‘No.’
‘Boyfriend? Family member?’
‘No.’
‘But you love him more than anything?’
‘Yes. Is that so hard to understand?’
‘It depends on how you define hard. It’s just a bit… How should I put it? A little…’
‘Apparently you’ve never loved anyone that strongly.’ She looked him right in the eyes.
Fabian lost his train of thought, and realized too late that he was the one who
was now looking away. He’d thought the interview would be a struggle. Instead, he was sitting with a perpetrator who confessed to everything with a shoulder shrug.
‘All the other organs you’ve taken,’ he continued in an attempt to pick up his line of questioning again. ‘Did they belong to Efraim too?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘And this Sofie Leander. She’s still alive?’
‘You already asked that.’
‘Where are you keeping her?’
‘In a safe place.’
‘I’ll repeat the question: Where are you keeping her?’
‘I can show you the way.’
‘I would prefer if you could tell instead.’
‘I’ll repeat the answer: I can show you the way. The alternative is that you find it yourself, but she almost certainly will not be alive.’
‘So you refuse to tell me where it is?’
‘You’ve understood correctly.’
108
THEY’D DECIDED ONLY TO involve the absolute minimum number of people and as few outside persons as possible so that they didn’t lose any valuable time. Besides, the majority of officers who were still on duty were occupied with the aftermath of the Black Cat raid.
The motorcade was only three vehicles long and they drove through a Stockholm so empty of traffic it was as if it had been cordoned off. It was the night before Christmas Eve, and most people had evidently taken the warnings of a powerful snowstorm that was said to be on its way during the night very seriously and had set off to their relatives in the country sooner than normal. The rest seemed to be staying indoors.
Fabian was behind the wheel with Aisha Shahin sitting alongside him in the passenger seat. Both her hands and feet were shackled, and the seatbelt was pulled between the chain holding her hands, just in case she got the idea to throw herself out of the car. He was in direct contact with both Jarmo and Tomas, who were in the car ahead of him, and with the paramedics in the ambulance behind, but not many words were exchanged. Not even the otherwise talkative Tomas said more than was absolutely necessary. Instead the mood was very focused, as if they were all fully occupied with trying to picture what they were about to see.
‘Turn left at the light,’ said Aisha Shahin, her eyes directed straight ahead.
‘Left up at the light,’ Fabian repeated in the headset to Jarmo, who got into the left lane and turned on to Drottningholmsvägen heading west.
The directions continued and brought them across Västerbron and Hornstull and further along E4 south. Even though it was pointless and wouldn’t change the end result, Fabian couldn’t help but try to figure out where they were going.
Not even when they left the highway, crossed a bridge and continued on to Älvsjövägen did it ring any bells. Only after a few more kilometres, when the road turned into Magelungsvägen after a roundabout, did Fabian realize that he’d been here less than a week ago.
But it was Tomas who said it out loud: ‘She must have got a quantity discount.’
He could now see the illuminated lighthouse-like tower on the right side. A minute later they turned into the deserted parking lot outside Shurgard Self Storage in Högdalen.
Fabian tried to fit it together: she’d taken them back to where they’d found Adam Fischer strapped down and mutilated on a plastic-covered table. Hillevi Stubbs had vacuumed every square millimetre of the storage compartment for clues, yet she’d obviously missed something. Or was she intentionally taking them in the wrong direction?
‘Okay, looks like we’re here,’ said Fabian to the others. ‘Take a quick look and secure everything. We’ll wait in the car.’
‘All right,’ said Tomas. Fabian could see him get out of the car ahead, checking his gun.
‘I’ll take the left, you take the right,’ said Jarmo, hurrying off towards the building like a dark shadow.
About twenty minutes later, Fabian got the all-clear and released Aisha Shahin from the seatbelt and helped her out of the car. Just as predicted, the snow had started to pick up. Shahin shook with cold in her thin dress and high heels. There hadn’t been enough time to get her any other clothes, but Fabian found a blanket in the trunk and put it over her shoulders.
They walked up to Jarmo, who was busy checking the contents of Hillevi Stubbs’ two tool bags. When he was finished he closed them, took one in each hand, and nodded to the others that he was ready.
‘Okay, let’s continue,’ said Tomas, constantly looking around with his drawn gun while Aisha Shahin showed them towards the entrance.
They did not move quickly. The high heels couldn’t be more out of place in the frozen snow and the chain between her feet didn’t allow any big steps either. But once they got to the door, she entered the code, which moved the door to the side and turned on the fluorescent lights inside. Tomas went in to check the inside of the building, while the others waited until he was back a few minutes later with the go-ahead.
Once inside, they were surrounded by warm air. Fabian could hear the electric motor start behind them, which closed the gate and shut out the winter. He looked around, but couldn’t identify anything that stood out from the last time he was there.
With the foot chain dragging along the concrete floor, Shahin led them across the large hallway, straight towards the compartment where they’d found Fischer. Was that really where they were headed? The questions were piling up in his mind, but he knew there was no point in asking them. She wouldn’t give him the answers he needed anyway. When the chain finally fell silent they were only a few metres in front of the compartment that was still cordoned off with tape. There was a round hole sawed in the door that had been covered by a temporary sheet of plywood.
‘Remove the barricade and the sheet of plywood,’ Jarmo said to Tomas. ‘It would be easier if he retrieves the key that’s up there,’ said Shahin, nodding towards the cable cover that extended above the louvre gate all the way to the compartments.
Tomas gave Fabian a perplexed look. Fabian thought about it quickly, but couldn’t see any problem, and nodded the okay. Tomas made his way up with one foot on a fire extinguisher and the other on the compartment’s code lock. He jumped down right away with a small violet plastic chip in his hand. He held it towards the code lock but nothing happened, except a red light came on.
‘It doesn’t work.’ Tomas turned to the others.
‘Let me try.’ Shahin extended her cuffed hands.
Tomas was uncertain, but handed it over after both Jarmo and Fabian nodded. Shahin moved forward with her short, chained steps, but not towards the code box of the compartment. Instead she continued towards the compartment alongside. Fabian had no idea what was going on. It wasn’t until she held the key against the code lock and entered the four-digit pin number that it occurred to him that she rented that compartment too. There had been another victim lying there the whole time, only a few metres away, on the other side of a thin steel wall.
After that everything happened very quickly.
An electric motor started up, and the gate started rolling up in front of them. At the same time, Shahin threw herself down on the floor. Before anyone had time to react she had rolled under the gate, which was suddenly on its way down again.
‘What the hell!’ Tomas shouted, attempting to stop the gate from coming down completely.
But it was too late and soon the gate was closed again.
‘Nice work, guys.’ Tomas looked at the others. ‘What the hell do we do now?’
‘Make our way in, of course,’ said Jarmo, opening one of the tool bags. He threw a pair of protective goggles and a battery-operated angle grinder to Tomas, who got started on the gate. Immediately sparks started bouncing against the floor.
‘Fabian, what the hell are you waiting for? Go and see if there’s any way out of there from the back end. I’ll take the other compartment.’ Jarmo tore away the sheet of plywood and disappeared through the hole in the gate.
But Fabian stayed still. He already had a pr
emonition of what she was up to on the other side of the gate, but he didn’t want to mention it to the others. Instead, it was one of the paramedics who hurried away along the row of compartments.
‘She’s not in this one,’ said Jarmo when he came back out of the compartment.
‘She’s not anywhere back here either,’ said the paramedic who rejoined them. ‘There are only more corridors and more compartments. This place seems endless.’
‘We know she hasn’t gone anywhere,’ said Jarmo, looking towards Tomas, who had now made it halfway with the angle grinder.
‘What do you think she’s up to in there?’ asked the other paramedic. ‘Destroying evidence?’
‘Who knows?’ Jarmo shrugged. ‘We already have more than enough evidence to convict her.’
‘Besides, she’s already admitted everything,’ said Fabian.
After another six minutes Tomas turned off the angle grinder. They walked up to the gate with their guns drawn. While they were waiting, none of them said so much as a word. It was as if they couldn’t move past the shock of what had happened.
‘Anyone want to go first?’ asked Tomas.
Fabian bent over and stepped in as carefully as he could to avoid cutting himself on the sharp edges.
She could have been pressed against the inside of the gate, prepared to attack him with a knife or some other weapon, or ready to take him hostage as her ticket to freedom. But Fabian wasn’t met by an ambush or a knife against his throat. Instead he saw exactly what he’d expected.
‘There’s no danger. You can come in,’ he called out to the others and walked over to one corner of the compartment.
The Ninth Grave Page 43
