by Viveca Sten
Nico, one of her most ambitious legal associates, stuck his head around the door.
“I was thinking of leaving now, if that’s OK?”
He sounded apologetic, as if he were embarrassed for wanting to go home at six o’clock on a Friday. He was young and hungry, with dreams of becoming one of the country’s leading defense attorneys.
“It’s my mom’s birthday,” he added.
Nico was often still working when Ulrika left, and God knows she put in the time. “No problem—I’m on my way, too.”
Nico lingered in the doorway. New suit, Ulrika noticed. It looked like Paul Smith. Nico had been paid a significant bonus for his efforts the previous year; no other associate had billed as many hours as he had.
“How did the meeting with Kovač go?” he asked.
Ulrika grimaced. “I don’t think he understands the gravity of the situation with his wife. The timing really is unfortunate.”
Needless to say, Nora Linde had been quick to send over the photographs of Mina when she was admitted to the hospital. They were appalling, particularly the images of her bruised and swollen face. Ulrika had had to steel herself in order to keep from looking away or prejudging her client, but she couldn’t allow herself to adopt the moral standpoint that the prosecutor was trying to evoke.
Earlier in her career, Ulrika had been eager to work at one of the large practices in the city specializing in business law. Her goal was to make partner with a firm that charged exorbitant fees for company transfers. Then she secured a post as a law clerk in Södertälje, and became fascinated by serious crime, by the feeling of dealing with life and death on a daily basis. The endorphin rush when they triumphed in court, when the press wrote about a case she was involved in.
She had learned long ago to focus on her own client. Mina was not her responsibility.
“I told him to make up with his wife,” she went on. “At least for as long as he’s accused of tax evasion. Any additional charges won’t improve his chances.”
“Do you think he’ll take your advice?”
Ulrika opened her briefcase and gathered up the documents she needed to go through over the weekend. “I hope so. It’s costing him plenty.”
CHAPTER 20
Dino Herco looked around before he unlocked the door of the two-room apartment where he’d been living for the last few years; old habits died hard. There was a strong odor of fried food in the stairwell, stale oil and fish. For some reason it reminded him of the refugee center where they’d ended up when they first came to Sweden—the Tre Kronor hotel in Gothenburg.
The apartment was in Farsta Strand. He didn’t know any of his neighbors. He just heard them through the walls occasionally when they raised their voices and quarreled. It suited him perfectly; he didn’t want close contact with anyone.
The usual advertising leaflets lay inside the door. He stepped over them, went into the kitchen, and got himself a cold beer.
He headed for the living room, with the bottle in his hand, and flopped down on the sofa. He picked up the remote and surfed aimlessly from one channel to another. Nothing but crap as usual. He left Eurosport on—a poor league match from England. Probably a repeat, but who cared?
He took a deep swig of beer and rested his head on the back of the sofa. It had been a long day; it was almost eight o’clock. After leaving the hospital they’d gone to a bar, where Andreis had determinedly knocked back shot after shot of vodka while talking agitatedly on the phone to Emir. Then Dino had driven him to the house on Trastvägen, listening to a stream of curses all the way. The place was in darkness when they arrived; it was immediately obvious that no one was there. More than twenty-four hours had elapsed since Mina was discharged, and she hadn’t spoken to Andreis or left a message.
She’d taken off in the past after he’d beaten her, but on those occasions she’d contacted him after a few hours. Andreis always managed to persuade her to give him another chance. No one could resist him when he wanted something. He’d wanted Mina ever since he first saw her. She was the ultimate trophy wife, with her sky-blue eyes and her beautiful blond hair.
But he’d never gone in as hard as he had this time. If the police hadn’t intervened and the ambulance hadn’t arrived, he would probably have killed her—even though she was the mother of his son.
Dino instinctively knew that Andreis wouldn’t have been able to stop himself.
The match was interrupted by a commercial break, and a young girl tried to convince the viewers that the secret to happiness lay in their choice of deodorant.
Dino took another swig of beer.
Andreis had always been temperamental, and over the years Dino had learned how to deal with his violent outbursts. He knew how to handle Andreis, even when most people walked away. Andreis was his boss, but he was also Dino’s family.
If he closed his eyes, Dino could still see the green hills around his childhood home, the little village close to Andreis’s home in Bosnia. The place where they would both have grown up, if it hadn’t been for the war.
Their families had fled at approximately the same time, and they’d ended up in Nyköping, like many of their fellow countrymen. Dino had attended the same Swedish school as Andreis and his kid brother, Emir. His parents still lived in the town, not far from Andreis’s mother, Selma, in the same shabby apartment the city council had allocated them some twenty years ago.
Even back then Andreis had talked about a different life, a life with money, where he’d be treated with respect and not have to kowtow to anyone else. He’d never liked Nyköping; he’d always wanted to get away, and Dino had realized from an early stage that he could accompany Andreis on the journey. He was more than willing to pay the price—unquestioning loyalty to Andreis—for a new life in the capital.
Dino took out his pocket knife and dug out a little dirt from under his thumbnail. The blade glinted in the light; he always carried the knife with him.
Andreis had had a temper even when they were in school, but recently the slightest irritant brought tension. Something had changed when he was released from custody in February. Dino had picked up on Andreis’s new frame of mind as soon as he’d gotten in the car. The look in his eyes was different. The stress lay just beneath the surface. In the past Andreis was sometimes unnecessarily suspicious, but now he saw ghosts everywhere. He was convinced that his enemies were out to get him, and he trusted no one.
Except Dino.
Andreis had had problems with the police before, but they’d never had any concrete evidence. They’d never managed to pin him down; he had always flown under the radar. How often had he made fun of the cops, called them idiots because they couldn’t find anything?
The new situation made Dino uncomfortable. The other day Andreis had broken the nose of a guy who was late with a delivery. It wasn’t good for morale among the boys, and it wasn’t good for business. No one was safe when Andreis lost his temper.
If he couldn’t take it out on Mina, who would be in the line of fire?
CHAPTER 21
Thomas saw Nora as soon as she walked into the bar on the ground floor of the Sandhamn Hotel. The place was almost full, but he’d managed to grab two seats at a table by the window.
She came over and gave him a hug. “I’m glad you got in touch,” she said. “I didn’t know you were coming over this weekend.”
“You made me feel guilty when you called me the other day,” he replied. “You were right—it’s been a while since we caught up.” Thomas pointed to the beer next to his own. “For you. Lager, of course.”
Nora nodded appreciatively and draped her jacket over the back of the chair before sitting down.
“How did the interview with Kovač go?” Thomas asked. Straight to the point as usual.
“No surprises. In other words, it wasn’t very productive. His lawyer isn’t easy to deal with, and Kovač is even worse.” Nora took a sip of her beer. “I’m filing the charge for tax evasion next week anyway. Kovač was released
yesterday, just as you expected.”
Thomas already knew; he’d checked before leaving work for the weekend. That wasn’t all he’d found out, which was why he’d texted Nora to ask if she had time for a beer that evening. “How well do you know Kovač?” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“How much do you actually know about his background?”
“I’ve been working on this case all spring, so I think I’m pretty clued in. Why?”
Thomas didn’t want to offend her, but she had to be told. “I’ve taken a closer look at him through my own contacts.”
They both knew there were other channels than the official ones leading to suspects being remanded in custody, arrested, and charged. The police databases were allowed to store only a certain kind of information, which didn’t always tell the whole story.
“He’s an unpleasant person,” Nora said. She kept her tone light, which worried Thomas; she wasn’t taking this seriously.
“I spoke to some guys who work in the area where Kovač operates,” he said. “He’s regarded as a ruthless individual. The word they used was brutal.”
“I know that.”
Outside the window a ferry slid into the harbor to drop off the last passengers of the day. The sun was going down, and the illuminated lookout at the top of the Sailors Restaurant stood out against the darkening sky.
“I don’t think you do,” Thomas said. “Andreis Kovač is dangerous. Last year a gang tried to muscle in on his territory. A hand grenade exploded in a café where they often held their meetings.”
“A hand grenade?”
“One of the dead was a baby whose mother just happened to be there at the time.”
The police hadn’t managed to find the perpetrator and had been heavily criticized for the fact that the case remained unsolved.
“According to my sources, everything points to Kovač, but there are no witnesses, no evidence. The usual informants refuse to talk. That says a great deal about his personality.”
This information seemed to come as a surprise to Nora. Thomas knew that his colleagues in Narcotics had provided her with background for the tax evasion case, but he suspected that they hadn’t gone into this kind of detail.
“Three dead and four injured,” he went on. “Just because Kovač wanted to make a point. Now do you understand?” She had to realize that these guys meant business. “I don’t think you’ve come across this kind of criminality before. Your usual white-collar tax dodgers are nothing compared to Kovač.”
Nora looked irritated.
“Don’t get mad,” Thomas said quickly. “I’m only trying to help.” He wouldn’t have gotten involved in her work if he wasn’t worried about her.
“I think I can get a conviction,” she said. “Especially if I can get his wife to testify against him on the assault charge. He can’t talk his way out of that.”
“If you bring in his wife, it becomes personal.”
“Sorry?”
“That will only make things worse. He’ll see it as a direct insult if you meddle in his family affairs.”
“He should have thought about that before he beat the hell out of her.”
“It’s not about that.” Thomas pushed his beer aside and leaned across the table. “Business is one thing, but his wife and child—that’s something else. He’ll go after anyone who interferes in his private life.”
A couple in their thirties pointed to the two chairs at the other end of the table. “Is anyone sitting here?” the woman asked.
“No,” Nora replied. Thomas would have preferred not to have anyone else at their table, but the bar was almost full.
The woman took off her dark-gray padded jacket and went to order their drinks.
“You need personal protection until the trial,” Thomas said quietly. “Have you discussed it with Jonathan?”
“Are you kidding? Kovač wouldn’t be crazy enough to attack a prosecutor!”
“Criminality has changed in Sweden. The climate has become much harsher in recent years. There’s no comparison with the way it used to be.”
How could he make her understand how serious this was?
The latest official police report on the country’s criminality had classed sixty-one districts as vulnerable areas, of which twenty-three were regarded as particularly vulnerable, with high crime rates and social exclusion. The report referred to parallel communities living in close proximity, with blackmail and direct threats as a part of everyday life, to the extent that both the authorities and local industry providers had moved out. Only a few miles from Nora’s comfortable workplace on Hantverkargatan, people were living in a completely different world, one where retribution was the norm, human life was a trading commodity, and drug dealing took place openly on the street.
Sweden had changed radically over the past ten years.
Nora turned her beer glass around and around. “I’m not naïve,” she assured him. “But I’m not going to start seeing things in broad daylight. If I’m scared, I won’t be able to do my job properly, and I can’t allow that to happen.”
“Kovač is ruthless,” Thomas repeated. “Don’t be fooled just because he has an expensive attorney and is accused of a white-collar crime.”
“I get it, but I have to try and persuade Mina to testify against her husband. Otherwise I wouldn’t be doing my job, and as I said, I can’t allow that to happen.” Before Thomas could say any more, Nora placed her hand on his arm. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Bosnia, June 1992
Emir was lying on a blanket on the living room floor, gurgling happily when Andreis emerged from his bedroom. His mother was sitting, weeping in front of the TV with a cigarette in her mouth. She didn’t even notice him.
Andreis edged closer so that he could see the screen. The reporter was talking about a place Andreis had never heard of.
Višegrad.
“Zlatko,” his mother sobbed. “You have to come and see this.”
The bedroom door opened and his father appeared in his pajamas. His belly protruded through a gap in the jacket, and his hair, as dark as Emir’s, was sticking out in all directions. Since the factory had closed, he often slept late in the mornings. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What’s happened?”
Selma pointed at the TV, where images of the dead and injured were now being shown. “The Serbs attacked Višegrad,” she whispered. “Thousands of people in the city and the surrounding villages have been killed. They shot them and threw the bodies in the Drina River.”
She could hardly speak.
The camera zoomed in on a bridge made up of stone arches. The name was on a small sign down in one corner: “Mehmed Paša Sokolović Bridge.”
“They drove the prisoners up onto the bridge in trucks and executed them, then they dumped the bodies like dead animals.”
Andreis saw his father’s face harden.
“Serbian pigs,” he said. “Karadžić is behind this. He’s a devil. A psychopath.”
“I’m so frightened.” Selma wept.
“The United Nations will intervene. The rest of the world will help us. They’re not going to let us go under without doing anything.” Zlatko placed a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder, and she gave it a squeeze. “This is a civilized country, Selma. We’re not barbarians.”
“Why do the Serbs want to wipe us out?”
Zlatko went over and switched off the television. “Because they’re murderers.”
CHAPTER 22
The buzzing of his phone woke Dino; he’d fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the TV. He didn’t need to check the display to know who was calling. What did he want now? It was almost ten o’clock. He accepted the call.
“I have to get a hold of Mina and Lukas.”
Andreis was slurring his words; he’d obviously carried on drinking after they parted company. Dino could hear the television in the background. It was so loud that he could only just make out what Andreis was saying.
&
nbsp; “She can’t take my son and just disappear. She’s my wife.”
There was no point in trying to reason with him. Dino sighed. “Where do you want me to start looking?” he said as respectfully as possible. He didn’t want to make Andreis even more angry.
“How the fuck should I know? If I knew, I’d do it myself!”
Dino slammed his fist into the arm of the chair—silently, of course. He made his voice even more submissive. “Have you spoken to her parents? Surely they must know where she is.”
Andreis’s tone changed. “She knows that’s the first place I’d go. She’s stupid, but not that stupid.”
“Exactly—so maybe she’s hiding there anyway.”
Mina no longer had many girlfriends. They’d fallen away one by one as Andreis’s controlling behavior intensified.
“Would you like me to drive over there and take a look?”
“No—I’ll do it myself.”
“Wait.”
Dino didn’t trust Andreis not to lose it if he found Mina at her parents’ home. More violence or a call to the police by Stefan and Katrin wouldn’t help the situation. The cops were already showing too much interest. If Andreis went over there in his current state, all hell could break loose.
“Let me go instead,” he said, hoping his boss would listen. “I’ll leave right away.”
“OK,” Andreis muttered after a few seconds. “Call me as soon as you find out what’s going on.”
CHAPTER 23
How long would she dare to stay at Freya’s Haven?
Mina was sitting up in bed, staring at the wall opposite. She’d spent the last few hours trying to rest, but her body was as tense as a coiled spring. The stitches above her eye were pulling, and her broken ribs were agonizingly painful. She’d fed Lukas when he woke up, but stayed in her room more or less all day. When he fell asleep, she’d crept into the kitchen and picked up some fruit. It was hard to get it down, but she’d forced herself. Anna-Maria was right; she had to eat something. She needed to regain her strength.