The Sword of Justice

by Leif G. W. Persson

  Anna Holt was sitting behind her big desk, and on one of the two visitor’s chairs sat a pale and extremely well-dressed blonde. Thin, in good shape, and in that indefinable age between thirty and forty.

  ‘How are you?’ Holt asked with a concerned smile. ‘I heard that Count Dracula of Drottningholm tried to wrestle you to the floor.’

  ‘He gave me a slap,’ Annika said with a shrug. ‘The report’s already written. Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I’m not the slightest bit worried,’ Holt assured her. ‘That’s not why I wanted to talk to you. I don’t know if you’ve met before, but this is Lisa, Lisa Mattei, who works with the Security Police. We’re old friends and former colleagues. And I’m godmother to her young daughter.’

  ‘I know who you are,’ Annika Carlsson said, nodding towards Mattei. ‘But I don’t think we’ve ever met.’ The favourite of the legendary Lars Martin Johansson, so you can’t be completely useless, she thought.

  ‘Good to meet you too, Annika,’ Lisa Mattei said with a cool smile, opening the thin briefcase on the desk in front of her and taking out a sheet of paper, which she handed over.

  ‘I’ve got a few questions, but I’d like you to read this through first. And sign it as soon as you’ve finished reading,’ she went on, putting a pen down on the desk.

  Not the usual disclosure ban, Annika Carlsson thought as she read. According to Swedish law, in today’s Sweden, this is utterly ridiculous.

  ‘One question, out of curiosity,’ Annika said as soon as she’d signed the document, which Lisa Mattei immediately took back and tucked away in her briefcase.

  ‘Yes,’ Lisa Mattei said. ‘If I can, I’ll be happy to answer it.’

  ‘Suppose I called a newspaper and tipped them off about the document I just signed.’

  ‘Yes …?’

  ‘What would happen? To me, I mean?’

  ‘In that case, I’m afraid we’d have to take the measures that you’ve just signed to say that I’ve made you aware of,’ Lisa Mattei said. ‘But I’m fairly confident we won’t find ourselves in that situation. You seem to be both sensible and honourable, which is also the reason why I’m sitting here and you’re not sitting in my office.’

  ‘What about Holt?’ Annika Carlsson said, shaking her head. ‘Why is she allowed to be here?’

  ‘The only reason is because she signed the same document as you before you came in,’ Mattei said.

  ‘Which I’m also forbidden to talk about,’ Anna Holt said with a delighted smile.

  ‘This is completely absurd.’ Annika Carlsson shook her head.

  ‘I haven’t come here because the Security Police have any intention of taking over the murder case that you and your colleagues are working on. I wanted to talk to you for completely different reasons. The first is that I want to find out about the suspicions against von Comer. How strong they are, basically. The second is that I’m concerned that your investigation is leaking to the media in a way that might suggest more than the usual loose talk, or because someone wants to make a bit of money on the side. The third is that I have one concrete question. Which of your colleagues is leaking information? Or is it more than one?’

  ‘What happened to the protection of sources?’ Annika Carlsson asked. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought that was written into the constitution?’

  ‘Yes, it’s there, as is the exception to that protection – specifically, crimes that threaten the security of the realm. That was also clearly explained in the document you just signed.’

  ‘What if it’s me, then? Who’s been doing the leaking, I mean?’

  ‘No,’ Lisa Mattei said, shaking her head. ‘It isn’t you. That’s why I’m sitting here talking to you now.’

  ‘So you know that for certain, do you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lisa Mattei said, without a trace of a smile. ‘I know. And if you’re wondering how I know, it’s because I can see it in your eyes. Not because we’ve been bugging your phone or come up with some other technological gimmick.’

  ‘Okay,’ Annika Carlsson said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘In that case, I’ll tell you what I think.’ You’re probably the most unpleasant person I’ve ever met in my entire life, you little upper-class bitch, she thought.

  Twenty minutes later she was finished. The suspicions against von Comer? It was obvious that he’d tried to defraud Eriksson over the sale of a painting. The idea that he commissioned or was otherwise involved in his murder was less certain. But it was worth pursuing, given the evidence they already had. The suggestion that he might have killed Eriksson himself was out of the question, however, in Annika Carlsson’s decided opinion.

  ‘He’s too feeble, to be blunt. But I think it’s all going to fall into place fairly quickly. How involved he was in the actual murder, I mean,’ Annika Carlsson summarized. ‘The worst case is probably that he wanted to get those paintings back, and took Åkare and another of his associates with him to help him with the practical details. That he was actually in Eriksson’s house when it all happened. But that he might have smashed his skull in? Forget it. He hasn’t got what it takes to do something like that. Believe me.’

  ‘Okay,’ Lisa Mattei said. ‘What do you think about the leaks to the papers, then?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ Annika Carlsson said, shaking her head. ‘As far as today’s events are concerned, I haven’t seen any of the media coverage – apart from the reporters who were already there when I turned up first thing this morning – but since then I’ve had my hands full all morning. Anyway, I know far too little about how the media work. I’m going to have to pass on that question, basically.’

  ‘What about the photofit picture of García Gomez, then? The one you had done last week and which turned up in one of the newspapers’ online editions yesterday morning. Have you given any thought to how it might have got there?’

  ‘I’m almost one hundred per cent sure it wasn’t Bäckström, anyway,’ Annika Carlsson said, for some reason.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Partly because he hit the roof when he found out. And partly because that’s not how I think it happened.’

  ‘How did it happen, then?’

  ‘One of our officers, Andersson-Trygg, got it into her head that our colleagues in the animal protection unit might be able to help us identify the man in the picture. One of them tipped off the media after she gave them the picture. Poor judgement caused by being overambitious, rather than anyone taking money from the paper. The sort of thing that just happens.’

  ‘So you don’t have any firm opinion about today’s events?’

  ‘If Bäckström was behind the leak, you mean?’ Annika Carlsson said, looking at Mattei, her gaze not wavering for a second.

  ‘Yes. What do you think?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ Annika Carlsson said. ‘But, if that were the case, I’d feel very sorry for him.’

  ‘Sorry for him? How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, considering that piece of paper I signed,’ Annika Carlsson said.

  ‘What do you think, girls?’ Anna Holt said, changing the subject. ‘I don’t think we’re going to get much further. Can I offer you lunch, by the way?’

  ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got time,’ Annika Carlsson said. ‘Too much to do.’

  ‘I’d be happy to have lunch with you,’ Lisa Mattei said with a smile. ‘Things were a bit stressful this morning, so I skipped breakfast. Elin says hi, by the way.’

  Is this how it feels, to have met someone you haven’t in fact met? Annika Carlsson thought as she returned to the observation room to watch as Bäckström, in his amiable, absent-minded way, slowly turned Baron Hans Ulrik von Comer inside out. At least no one’s dared to take your chair. Always a good sign.

  103

  At roughly the same time as Detective Superintendent Evert Bäckström was turning ‘a faggot into a marker buoy’ – which was how he himself chose to describe his interview with von Comer when he spoke to
his tame reporter that same evening – his colleagues Detective Inspectors Per Bladh and Lars Alm were interviewing the lawyer, Peter Danielsson, from the law firm Eriksson and Partners.

  Another interview in an ever-growing sequence, another far from unconditional conversation in which the ambition was to uncover the truth, or at least some form of confirmation, but where the outcome was often the complete opposite. A dialogue in the form of questions and answers which were usually influenced by discrepancies arising from contradictions with previous statements, and in this case by information from an anonymous source whose name only Bäckström knew. If Thomas Eriksson the lawyer was commissioned to sell an art collection on behalf of an as yet unknown client, then it was not unreasonable to suspect that there might be documentation about the matter at the law firm where he worked.

  According to Peter Danielsson, there was no such documentation in the office. No power of attorney, no contracts, accounts, invoices, statements of account, and Danielsson’s own interpretation was that the information lacked all foundation. His former colleague had never taken on a job like that. His lead interviewer, on the other hand, was of the opposite belief, for which reason the interview soon became a discussion of the fact that the simple explanation could be that Eriksson had had a few clients ‘on the side’. That this particular job had been of a more private nature.

  ‘Naturally, that can’t be ruled out,’ Danielsson conceded. ‘Obviously, when you’re a lawyer, it can happen that you undertake to do things on behalf of good friends.

  ‘In that regard, we’re a bit like doctors,’ he went on. ‘You’re constantly beset by friends and acquaintances who want advice and help with all manner of things.’

  But, at the same time, he seemed so obviously relieved to be discussing the possibility that both Alm and Bladh noticed it. After the end of the interview, they agreed that Danielsson and his colleagues should look into the matter one more time, if only to be certain. Bladh had also taken the opportunity to give Danielsson a bit of parting advice when he and his colleague were leaving the office.

  ‘If there’s anything bothering you about Eriksson’s activities, I think it would be in the best interests of both you and the firm if you told us about it.’

  ‘Of course,’ Danielsson said. ‘But, to be perfectly honest, just between us, my colleagues and I never had any cause for that sort of anxiety when it came to Thomas and his work.’

  Perfectly honest and just between us. Where have I heard that before? Bladh thought, but merely nodded.

  Alm, however, was more direct.

  ‘Well, my colleague and I still believe that that’s the case. So I suggest you have a good think about it.’

  104

  After the first hour, Bäckström had suggested a short break. He had also offered von Comer coffee, mineral water, perhaps a sandwich, the chance to stretch his legs, even a visit to the nearest smoking area in the building. The full works, basically, if only to show a bit of goodwill.

  Von Comer had declined the offer of smoking but accepted everything else, and while they were waiting for coffee they went out into the corridor, where Bäckström took him off to one side, with a discreet gesture to the prosecutor, who was standing a short distance away, having a whispered conversation with Ek. About time for a few confidences, man to man, and Bäckström began by suggesting that they drop the formalities. With the utmost respect, naturally, and if for no other reason than to save time, because he himself wasn’t terribly impressed at having to be involved in this business.

  ‘I’m a homicide detective,’ Bäckström said with a telling shrug. ‘Details of that sort, if I’m honest – strictly between us – don’t really interest me at all. Unlike certain prosecutors,’ Bäckström said, with another pointed nod of the head in Lisa Lamm’s direction.

  Of course they could set aside their titles, von Comer agreed. Not merely to save time, but also because he had realized that he had finally met a police officer who was willing to listen to him. One who hadn’t prejudged him. They even shook hands on the matter.

  A quarter of an hour later, the interview resumed. Coffee and mineral water for all, two ham and cheese sandwiches for von Comer.

  ‘If I’ve understood you correctly, those two characters appeared at your house without warning,’ Bäckström said, as soon as his victim had wiped away any evidence of his perfunctory meal with a paper napkin. ‘Two men who were quite unknown to you,’ he went on.

  ‘As I said before the break, I’d never set eyes on them before.’

  ‘So why did they want to see you?’

  The explanation was that they had come to collect the paintings and other works of art which he had promised to help Eriksson sell.

  ‘They were nice and polite, no problems of that nature at all,’ von Comer said. ‘They introduced themselves, and I seem to recollect that the larger of them – Åkerström, it must have been – gave me his business card while we were standing talking at the door.’

  ‘What happened after that?’

  ‘I invited them in, and then I explained the situation. I told them that there must be some misunderstanding, because Eriksson had himself picked up the whole collection just a few hours before.’

  ‘As you understood it, they were there on Eriksson’s behalf?’

  ‘Yes, why else would he have sent them to my house?’ von Comer said, looking at Bäckström in surprise. ‘I took it to mean that they had misunderstood what each of them would be doing.’

  ‘I understand,’ Bäckström said. ‘What did you say after that?’

  ‘I went and got the receipt that Eriksson had signed. Proving, of course, that he had already collected the paintings.’

  ‘How did they react to that?’

  ‘Oh, there was no problem at all. I seem to recall that I even gave them a copy of the receipt. As I understood it, we were in complete agreement. About the fact there must have been some sort of misunderstanding between them and Eriksson, I mean.’

  ‘But they didn’t explicitly state that Eriksson had sent them?’

  ‘No, but who else would have done?’

  ‘Yes, that’s certainly a good question,’ Bäckström said with a friendly smile, as Nadja Högberg knocked on the door and peered cautiously into the room.

  ‘Interview suspended at 10.31,’ Bäckström said after a quick glance at his watch.

  ‘What can I do for you, Nadja?’ Bäckström said.

  ‘Could I have a few words with you?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Bäckström said. ‘Just give me a minute, then we’ll go on,’ he said to von Comer.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Nadja asked as soon as they were in the corridor and Bäckström had shut the door of the interview room.

  ‘It’s coming together,’ Bäckström said with a shrug. ‘How are things going for you?’

  ‘He’s certainly got plenty of paintings in the house, but none of the ones we’re looking for. But we have found a receipt signed by Eriksson, saying that he acknowledges receipt of all the items. With a note of the date and place as well. Friday, 31 May, von Comer’s address.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘This business card,’ Nadja said, handing over a business card in a sealed plastic sleeve. ‘It looks like Åkare’s. Fredrik Åkerström. Managing director of Åkerström Security. Imagine, Fredrik Åkare has his own security business.’ She smiled. ‘This is the receipt for the paintings,’ she went on, handing Bäckström another plastic sleeve.

  ‘Okay,’ Bäckström said. ‘What about his computer? And his bank?’

  ‘We’re working as hard as we can.’

  ‘Interview resumed at 10.35,’ Bäckström said, switching the tape recorder back on as soon as he had made himself comfortable on his chair.

  ‘You mentioned that one of your visitors gave you his business card,’ Bäckström said. ‘Could it by any chance have been this one?’

  ‘Yes,’ von Comer said. ‘Yes, that’s the card. I’m quite sure of it.
’

  ‘Let it be noted for the record that I have just shown Hans Ulrik von Comer a business card with Fredrik Åkerström’s name and that of his company, Åkerström Security, printed on it,’ Bäckström declared.

  ‘That’s definitely the business card he gave me,’ von Comer interjected.

  ‘Excellent,’ Bäckström said. ‘And here we have a receipt which I thought I might show you, by which Thomas Eriksson acknowledges receipt of a total of twelve different works of art which, according to this, he collected from you on Friday, 31 May. Eleven paintings and an enamel figure. Is this the receipt that you mentioned before?’

  ‘Definitely,’ von Comer said. ‘I’m quite sure of that.’

  ‘I see,’ Bäckström said, then let out a happy sigh and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Lamm and Ek.

  ‘Well, I’m satisfied, so if no one else has any questions, I thought we might move on and talk about something else entirely: your previous relationship with the lawyer Thomas Eriksson.’

  ‘Where would you like me to start?’ von Comer said, who seemed more and more comfortable with the situation in which he found himself.

  ‘I suggest you start at the beginning,’ Bäckström said, still smiling happily. ‘That’s usually best. Start with the first time you met him.’

  ‘That sounds like an excellent idea,’ von Comer agreed.

  That way we can save the last time till the end. When you were sitting on his sofa and shat yourself while bullets were flying past your ears, Bäckström thought.

  The first time von Comer met Thomas Eriksson had been at a hunting party in Skåne organized by a mutual friend who was a property developer. He couldn’t remember precisely which year it was, but it must have been about ten years ago.

  And after that first meeting? A total of ten, perhaps twenty occasions. All in social situations, out in the city, in bars, at hunts and dinners arranged by mutual friends and acquaintances. That was all, according to von Comer.

  ‘I take it that he had been to your house,’ Bäckström said. ‘When he collected those paintings we were talking about.’