“Here it is, we only have to open that,” said Anders when they had cordoned off the area and the League of Pensioners had found the old classic fire hydrant close to the ferry dock.
“Are you sure the water pressure won’t damage the money?” Martha wondered and looked on worriedly as Brains, Rake and Anders started to roll out the fire hose.
“But we can’t get the tights out of the drainpipe with compressed air, Martha dear. We must use water. And see how fortunate we are with this solid old fire hydrant. We only need to connect the hose,” said Brains.
“Yes, you couldn’t have a better hydrant than this,” Anders agreed and patted the dark green construction lightly on the top. “Now we only need to check the interlocks and that everything is in working order.”
Anders, who was standing right behind Brains, leaned forward and checked the hose very carefully.
“This is going to have a fantastic reach,” he said, very pleased.
“You what?” Christina wondered.
“Reach, the water will shoot out with a hell of a force,” Anders answered.
“What about the threaded hose couplings?” Brains looked at the hose sections and counted three.
“What?” muttered Rake.
“The threaded hose couplings. We must join the hoses together,” Brains explained.
“Oh yes, right, of course we must,” mumbled Rake.
They had purchased the hose in separate sections because they feared a single long section would be too heavy for them to carry. None of them were in the same shape as a real fireman, but they planned to connect several short lengths of hose together so that they would end up with a long hose. The men rolled up their sleeves and joined the hoses as best they could and then tried to screw the synthetic hose to the hydrant.
Martha, who had taken a step back, watched all this from a distance. She paced back and forth on the pavement outside the National Museum and tried to keep away while the men worked. It was their turn now. Otherwise she was always the one who ensured that the project was carried out, as with the case of the theft of the Renoir and Monet paintings up at the museum.
She glanced up at the facade and the National Museum’s steep steps and smiled a little. A lot of exciting things had taken place here. But this time—this time it was Brains and Rake who would be in charge of everything and if she didn’t keep her distance, she would get too involved and start giving them advice. Something that not everybody appreciated. She would just go a little closer and see how they were doing. She heard the men huffing and puffing but nothing happened. No, they weren’t getting anywhere with this. And then she couldn’t resist going right up to them.
“Now listen, it would probably be best to turn the water on soon so that we don’t get all tangled up in that mess of hoses,” she said pointing at the snakes’ nest of hoses out in the street.
Rake and Brains grunted while they continued in their sweaty efforts to get everything together and working.
“Yes, and then we push out my tights from the drainpipe at great speed,” Anna-Greta added, together with a loud neigh.
“Sh,” the others hushed her. “We mustn’t attract attention!”
“No, definitely!” said Anna-Greta with her thunderous voice and then there came an extremely weird noise from her stomach as she tried to restrain her voluminous horsey laugh. She was more sensitive than usual when she was so excited.
When Anders, Brains and Rake finally succeeded in connecting the sections of hose and fastening the end to the hydrant with a spanner wrench, they went to the drainpipe and pushed the nozzle up into the opening. Now that the first light of dawn was reaching Stockholm you could see pretty well, but there were still very few people out on the streets. Outside the Grand Hotel it was silent, and the driver of a Stockholm taxi who was on his way to the hotel turned back when he saw the area blocked off.
Now they were ready to turn on the water, but all the work they had done so far had made the members of the League of Pensioners so tired that they had to catch their breath before they continued. The old crooks looked up at the Grand Hotel where the dark drainpipe stood out against the light facade.
“What if the drainpipe leaks?” Christina suddenly asked.
“It won’t. Pipes like that don’t leak,” said Anders authoritatively, though he had no idea.
“Well, then. Shall we start?” Martha wondered, and her voice sounded slightly more unsteady than usual.
Brains nodded, took up position by the hydrant and Anders and Rake took a firm hold of the hose sticking up into the drainpipe, and gave a thumbs-up.
“Now you will be careful, won’t you?” Christina breathed and put her hands over the bridge of her nose as she sometimes did when she was nervous. But the men didn’t answer and the next moment a strange hissing noise could be heard, like the sound you hear when the water rushes through a garden hose just before it splits. The fire hose filled out and straightened up and when it was completely round, Anders and Rake pushed the nozzle even further up the drainpipe. Suddenly there was an enormous whoosh inside the drainpipe and the men lost control. The nozzle and hose shot up in the drainpipe at an incredible speed, making an enormous rattling noise. The doorman at the Grand Hotel took a few steps forward and looked very perplexed.
“This shouldn’t be physically possible,” Brains gasped as he wrestled with the hose. Now you could hear so many strange sounds inside the drainpipe that it was really confusing and the length of hose still on the pavement started to squirm and turn wildly. A ferry captain who had been asleep in his cabin came out on deck in wrinkled pyjamas and rubbed his eyes.
“What the hell is going on?” he shouted and took a step toward the quay to lecture the people who were disturbing the peace. “Oh but, my spectacles,” he realized, tripped on one of the deck planks and fell heavily. “Ah, fucking hell!” He swore loud and long and then, groaning, felt his knee while the seagulls flew up from the water in fright.
“Turn it off, turn it off!” Martha shouted, but then Brains became so nervous that he turned the handle of the hydrant the wrong way. Immediately the water pressure became so great that the men could hardly hold on to the hose. The pillar of water got higher and higher until it came to a sudden stop. Inside the drainpipe it shrieked and rattled and the hose bulged so round that it looked as if it would burst.
“Now listen, what’s happening?” Martha shouted, rushing up to the hydrant. “Have we got the wrong drainpipe?”
“Wrong drainpipe? Are you mad, woman!” sputtered Rake while he struggled with the hose.
“What if all the banknotes are ruined? For God’s sake, turn off the water!” Anna-Greta appealed.
“You can’t bloody well stop a deluge,” Rake hissed and he threw himself down on the hose to stop it from knocking everyone over, while Christina tried to sit on it without losing her elegance.
“This is the day of reckoning!” she exclaimed and clasped her hands together, but she got no further when something suddenly shot up into the sky from the top of the drainpipe at one hell of a speed while a fountain of water sprayed up over the roof’s edge and then fell back together with a collection of empty bottles that rolled down the roof. Even higher up, you could see a large and dark shape on its way down. It banged into the flagpole next to the Princess Lilian suite, bounced on the copper roof and then slid down toward the gutter where it ended up hanging over the edge.
“Oh no, don’t say it’s got stuck!” Martha groaned and she peered up at the roof with her hand over her eyebrows.
“Ah, we’ll give it another little squirt.” Playfulness showed all over Brains’s face. “Come on, Anders!”
The two men pulled the hose out of the drainpipe and aimed the nozzle at the roof gutter where what looked like a sausage-shaped trash bag was hanging over the side. The bag started to move from the pressure of the stream of water.
“Will that really work? Oh dear, I will say another prayer,” mumbled Christina clasping her hands tog
ether.
“Christina, the pressure from a fire hose can move a car,” answered Brains at the same moment that the black bag finally sailed over the edge and fell down to the street.
“The trash bag! Hurrah, now we’re richer by five million kronor,” Anna-Greta exclaimed when she saw the black bag crash down.
“Sh!” came from the others.
“That’s if there is anything left of the banknotes, of course,” Anna-Greta added.
The men turned off the water and had barely had time to disconnect the coupling before Anna-Greta rushed up to the bag to have a look . . .
26
THE OTHERS MANAGED TO STOP THEIR FRIEND, BUT NOT UNTIL she had been promised that she would be the first to count the money did she give in and climb into the minibus. While the others got ready to leave, Martha went in to see the night porter and the night guard and thanked them for their cooperation, assuring them that her husband had been so pleased and that she would always remember their wonderful hotel service. She wished them a good morning and that they would both soon be promoted. Then she gave a small bow and took her leave. But just as she was on her way with her walker, they stopped her.
“What were those strange noises?”
“Oh yes, goodness me, dear oh dear.” Martha sounded apologetic. “It was the new pump, the Argo three two one nine. It most certainly didn’t live up to expectations. We shall complain to the manufacturers right away. But at least it is good that we found out now. Yes, wasn’t it a dreadful noise?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” said the night guard and he pointed to the facade where newly awakened and angry guests on nearly every floor had opened windows and were gesticulating, shouting or giving the international sign for “Fuck you!”
“Yes, well, things don’t always work out as one expects, but if everybody was as friendly and helpful as you there would be peace in this world, I am convinced of that,” said Martha, and she bowed again and shuffled off with her walker.
The night staff remained standing there and watched her go off. Then they looked up at the facade again and shook their heads. In a way the old lady was wonderful, but this had definitely gone too far. It would be best to report it to the management as well as to the police. Those seniors might decide to celebrate something again.
WHEN MARTHA REACHED THE MINIBUS, SHE WRENCHED THE door open.
“Is everyone here? We’d better get out of here pretty damned quick!”
“We were waiting for you.” Anders opened the back door for her and Martha pushed the walker inside. When she, too, had got in and sat down, he drove off as fast as he could without arousing suspicion—after all, they were in a vehicle normally used to ferry the old and sick. He drove past the Östra Station, took the road past the Royal Institute of Technology and when they reached the Lill-Jan woods, he stopped. He quickly got out and changed the license plates, then they continued their journey toward Djursholm.
“Weird odor in here,” said Anders.
It did, in fact, smell a bit strange from the back seat. They all looked anxiously at each other. The weird odor was not a good omen, and Martha had to make a big effort to prevent Anna-Greta and the others from ripping open the trash bag.
“We must be careful. It’s better to open it in a safe place where we can take care of the money,” said Brains, and Anna-Greta, who had covertly opened the outer trash bag, and was just about to open the innermost one, stopped herself at the last moment.
“Yes, of course, yes,” she said and looked just as guilty as a little boy who has been caught being mischievous.
“The tights did indeed have reinforced heels and toes but the bags must be opened in a careful manner,” Martha made clear.
Anna-Greta cast her eyes downwards.
Anders speeded up and when they drove across the Stocksund bridge and were just about to turn in toward Danderyd, Martha saw in the rearview mirror how Anna-Greta was trying to sneak a hand inside the bag anyway.
“Tut, tut, Anna-Greta, naughty! Didn’t we just decide to wait?”
“Yes, but they are my tights,” Anna-Greta retorted stubbornly, but in a voice which grew weaker and even sounded a little guilty at the end.
When they reached their villa in Djursholm they passed Bielke’s garden and saw through the lilac bush that the autumn leaves had fallen upon the lawn on top of the former swimming pool.
“If that pool hadn’t been filled with concrete we could have hidden the money there,” said Brains.
“We are not going to hide anything anywhere, we’re going to use that money now,” said Anna-Greta, unusually decisive.
“For those in need!” Christina was more precise.
“Yes, whatever happens, we must never be greedy, however much we steal. Promise, all of you!” Martha held her index finger up in a strict gesture.
“Amen!” said Rake.
When they had parked, opened the back door and dragged the trash bag into the sauna in the cellar they could relax and Martha went to fetch the champagne.
“To think that we finally got ahold of the drainpipe money,” she said handing out the champagne glasses with a smile of satisfaction on her face. “We’d better celebrate right away. And then if the banknotes have been destroyed by insects or gone all moldy we will at least have had our little celebration.”
Rake looked at the label, held up the bottle so that all could see, and nodded.
“Um. Your philosophy of life isn’t so bad at all. A Henriot Champagne Brut Millésimé, indeed, you’re improving.”
“I agree with Martha. You should enjoy things in anticipation. If it all goes to pot, then you’ve worried unnecessarily, and if it goes well, then you can celebrate once again,” Brains said.
They all applauded, took their glasses and watched as Brains elegantly opened the bottle. After which he served each of them with a slight bow.
“Cheers, then!” they all called out in unison and quickly took a mouthful before putting the glasses down. None of them were really interested in the champagne; rather, they were like children on Christmas morning. They wanted to know what was in the trash bag.
“Righto everybody, shall we take a look?” said Christina and she had barely uttered those long-awaited words before Anna-Greta was there with the kitchen scissors. When she made a hole in the plastic there was a puff of musty odor, of rot, which reminded them of a mixture of compost, old eggs and a toilet that hadn’t been flushed for a long time. But this didn’t bother Anna-Greta. With a few quick snips of the scissors she had also opened the innermost trash bag and before the others had even come close she had pulled out the tights. They all tried to touch the somewhat shabby looking tights—all, that is, except for Rake who was more interested to see if his seaman’s knots had survived a whole year down the drainpipe. He eagerly picked up the remains of the trash bags and looked for his knots. He cautiously poked the marline and discovered that his double knots and bowlines were still intact but had acquired a greenish gray tinge. What if the bags had leaked? He was now beginning to feel apprehensive and was just about to grumble about the problem when the air was filled with a piercing scream.
“My tights are intact!” Anna-Greta shouted out, ripping one of them open and throwing banknotes up into the air as if she had been Scrooge McDuck in a bathtub full of coins. Banknote after banknote fluttered down and landed on the benches and the sauna floor.
“But ugh, it really stinks!” Christina coughed and held her nose.
“And what has happened to this?” Brains wondered as he held up the second pair of tights which was dirty gray and very, very long. It seemed to never come to an end. It was the longest pair of tights any of them had ever seen and they had evidently become extremely stretched when they had been hanging inside the drainpipe for so long.
“Aren’t we going to open that one too?” gasped a semi-groggy Anna-Greta who could hardly contain herself after having seen so many banknotes. “There ought to be two and a half million kronor inside. That p
air of tights was almost new, so the banknotes ought to have fared even better than the others. At least they won’t smell so bad.”
“Less foot sweat perhaps?” said Rake and he took a chocolate mint.
“Empty out the banknotes so we can see how well they’ve survived. At any rate the tights seem to be dry,” said Martha feeling the nylon.
“Naturally. I know my knots,” said Rake, and he got hold of the foot end of the tights and swung them teasingly above his head until a pile of banknotes fell out. They sailed down and landed on the benches and the sauna stove and Martha gasped in horror. Not until she realized that the sauna stove wasn’t turned on did she calm down.
The whole floor of the sauna was now covered with banknotes, five hundred kronor notes, and they were just as excited as if they had just been out on a new bank robbery. Rake felt his blood pressure rising and had to sneak off to get his medicine. He had been given it at the hospital but hadn’t told anybody, not even Christina. He didn’t like those pills. A seaman was never in poor shape, and an old salt like him didn’t need any medicine. No, it didn’t fit with his self-image. Nobody noticed when he opened the bottle and took out his three white pills. He swallowed, coughed slightly and then joined the others again.
All day long the members of the League of Pensioners crawled around in the sauna and checked the banknotes on the floor. Some of them had turned dark and some were frayed in the corners, others felt damp and stunk, but most of them had indeed fared well in Anna-Greta’s tights with their reinforced toes. Martha and her friends couldn’t get their fill of staring at over ten thousand banknotes on the floor; they just kept looking at them, touching them and examining every single one very carefully. Brains sang a popular Swedish ballad about seeing Sundbyberg—his old home—before you die, while the others were content to hum “Money, money, money.” When they had gone through all the banknotes and sorted them in piles, they got out the champagne again, sat down on the sauna benches and toasted one another.
The Little Old Lady Behaving Badly Page 15
