Brodd blew out his cheeks. ‘What’s four million euros in kronor?’
‘Roughly forty million,’ Hakim answered. ‘Just as well they don’t want kronor. There’s probably not that much around in our cashless society,’ he added wryly.
‘Forty million,’ Brodd said, shaking his head. ‘Could buy a lot of meatballs with that.’
‘It was definitely euros they asked for, not dollars?’ queried Anita.
‘Yes. That had me wondering. We’ll need to look into that. Naturally, they told her that she wasn’t to approach the police, or Peter was a dead man. However, after a sleepless night, she decided to call us.’
‘Can they raise the money in time?’ Wallen asked the question that they were all wondering about.
‘They can certainly afford it. But it’s spread all over the place apparently. It’s not as simple as the Möller case. I suspect that once the perps got hold of Uhlig, they soon discovered they couldn’t just quickly transfer the ransom like they’d done with Möller. The problem for them is that though Uhlig is rich and successful, his is an old-established business where much of the money is reinvested in the firm. Talking of which, what have you found out, Klara?’
Wallen consulted her notes. ‘As the name suggests, Peter Uhlig is of German extraction. Typical Malmö story. An Uhlig ancestor came across here from Germany because of the herring industry in the 1700s. The family stayed on and thrived. They moved into ship building and then cement, which was huge business at one time. Through the shipping arm, they got into freight. The shipping went after the Second World War, and the cement side of things was bought over a few years ago by the Hoffberg Cement Group. The present owner, Peter Uhlig, decided to concentrate on freight. He moved out of Malmö ten years ago and set up his main depot and headquarters in Trelleborg. He dropped the family name and the company became Trellogistics. It’s ideally located for moving whatever to northern Germany, Poland and the Baltic States, and all points beyond. His office is opposite the new Hamngatan 9 complex. He heads off there every morning promptly except for the odd golf day, usually spent with business contacts. He has two grown-up daughters, neither of whom are involved in the day-to-day running of the firm directly, though both have seats on the board.’ Wallen looked over to Moberg. ‘That’s about it so far.’
‘Good.’ Wallen was pleased. That was the most praise anybody was likely to get from the chief inspector. ‘I think the two daughters on the company board give us an idea why the money isn’t readily available. They’ll have to pitch in or give the green light for company funds to be used. The kidnappers have made life a bit harder for themselves this time.’
‘If they are as efficient as last time, they’ll have planned this carefully,’ commented Anita almost to herself.
‘Probably. On the plus side, we’ve got time to act. Try and track them down.’
‘And when and where do they want the ransom?’
‘They didn’t give fru Uhlig any information about that other than it needed to be in five-hundred-euro notes put into a certain type of IKEA cool bag.’
‘That’s very precise.’ This was Hakim. Anita avoided his gaze, stupidly feeling guilty for visiting Liv without his knowledge. ‘We think they’ll only tell fru Uhlig the time and the place at the very last minute, when they know the money is ready. That would get round any possibility that she might have informed the police and find us waiting at the drop site.’
‘Exactly,’ said Moberg. ‘Now we need to play this carefully. If we go charging around, we might alert the kidnappers and they might finish Uhlig off – or push up the price. We need to keep this really discreet. And I mean discreet, Brodd.’ Brodd looked suitably sheepish. ‘We’re keeping this kidnap out of the press for the time being. They think we’re useless enough after the last one; I don’t want them getting any more ammunition. And no one at Trellogistics is to be made privy as to what has happened. Officially, Uhlig’s taken a few days’ rest. Overwork. Apparently, that’s a believable excuse. We can start by nosing around the place they kept Möller. I doubt they’d use the same place twice, but you never know. That’s one for you, Pontus. And just before I came in here, I was informed that Traffic have found Uhlig’s car near Gessie. Anita, I want you and Klara to go down and take a look. Get a forensic technician to go over the car and see if there’s anything useful there. See if there are any tyre tracks from the vehicle they must have taken him away in. Might be the same Danish van we couldn’t find before. After that, get down to Trelleborg. One of the daughters,’ he glanced down at a note he’d made, ‘Ann-Kristen Uhlig, is expecting you. See if there’s any angle on the Trellogistics front. Any enemies, rivals; that sort of thing. Unhappy employees. Obviously, don’t mention the real reason why you’re there to any staff. Routine enquiries.’
Moberg stopped to take a sip of water from a bottle he’d brought in. His breathing seemed uneven. ‘I’m afraid you’ll need to sit through any CCTV you can get hold of, Hakim. There’ll be nothing out in the countryside where he was snatched, but they may have brought him back into town, especially the dock area. Meanwhile, I’ll liaise with the family over the money and we’ll put someone in the Uhligs’ Limhamn home to be there when the instructions come through from the kidnappers. Whatever we do, the chances of finding Peter Uhlig before they call in with the drop site are pretty remote. What we mustn’t do is put his life in jeopardy. That said, I want these buggers caught!’
By the time Anita and Wallen had reached Uhlig’s car, the morning brightness had disappeared behind darkening skies. Rain wasn’t far away. They found a uniformed officer standing guard over a black Mercedes-Benz S500. It was just off the main E6 route to Trelleborg. The car was parked in a tarmacked lay-by close to where a minor road joined the slip road onto the main highway. The lay-by was big enough to accommodate three or four vehicles.
Anita and Wallen got out. Wallen went over to talk to the officer while Anita surveyed the scene. The landscape was very open with flat, expansive fields, though it would be hard for any passing motorists on the E6 to see anything that might have gone on in the lay-by as at that point, the level of the main road was lower and bordered by scrubby trees. There were no houses or farm buildings that were near enough for the residents to witness anything. This spot had been chosen carefully. Anita assumed, though this would have to be checked out, that this was Peter Uhlig’s regular route to work – back roads from Limhamn and then onto the E6. The kidnappers clearly knew the route and the time he headed for the office. Would the staff at Trellogistics know? Surely some of them would. And the family certainly would. She took one more look round and then slipped on her latex gloves.
‘No external damage,’ commented Wallen, ‘so it’s unlikely they bumped him off the road.’
Anita opened the car door. The interior was immaculate. Despite being a couple of years old, it smelt almost new. It was well looked after; regularly valeted. Anita felt that Peter Uhlig must be a fastidious man. Everything was neatly in place except there was no sign of any briefcase or bag. The kidnappers must have taken whatever he had with him, including his mobile phone. That hadn’t been traced. Records showed that it had last been used in Uhlig’s home at 23.50 the previous evening. The eight-minute call had been an early-morning one to a customer in Japan: 6.30 their time. The rest of the car revealed nothing of any significance.
Just then a van drove up and out jumped a young, tousled-haired forensic technician whom Anita had not seen before. He greeted them with a broad grin and a firm handshake. ‘Lars Unosson,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘What do you want me to do?’ Anita was taken aback by the young man’s enthusiasm. How long would that last? She ticked herself off for being a cynical old cow.
‘We need you to give the Mercedes the once over, though I doubt you’ll find much,’ said Anita with a raised eyebrow. ‘I think what’s more important is to see if you can find any tracks of another vehicle. A van is the most likely.’
He puckered his lips. ‘At
first glance, there doesn’t seem much. Trouble is we had heavy rain last night.’
‘Try your best.’
He nodded cheerfully and returned to his vehicle to get kitted out.
‘What do you think happened here?’ Wallen asked.
‘They got him to stop somehow. I suspect they simply waved him down. Pretended that they needed help. Then grabbed him just like with Mats Möller. As you say, if they’d tried to block his car or push him off the road, there’d be some damage to his vehicle; it’s even neatly parked. And I also think we’d see some obvious skid marks despite the rain. They didn’t rush off either. That could have left marks, too. This was very controlled. These guys are good.’
CHAPTER 9
Anita and Wallen headed along the E6 into Trelleborg. They were taking the route that Peter Uhlig had failed to complete that Wednesday morning. On the outskirts of the town, they passed numerous industrial units, one of which was the massive Trellogistics depot. A fleet of light-blue trucks with the dark-green Trellogistics logo emblazoned on the sides was lined up ready to pick up or deliver goods anywhere in northern Europe. The industrial area melded into urban housing the nearer they got to the centre. One of the country’s oldest cities, Trelleborg could trace its history back to Viking times. The herring trade with the Hanseatic League had seen it prosper in the Middle Ages. Like the rest of Skåne, it had become part of Denmark for a time before emerging from the shadows in the early twentieth century, thanks to the shipping trade and the railways. In 1909, the ferry route between Trelleborg and Sassnitz on Germany’s Baltic coast was established, helping to bring prosperity. It was also the crossing that Lenin had used eight years later on his way to taking control of Russia through the Bolshevik Revolution. Now the port was the second largest in Sweden, and it was a major site for the freight-forwarding industry, in which Trellogistics was one of the biggest players. Yet their headquarters were housed in a modest, squat, brick building with a red pantile roof on Hamngatan opposite the bustling harbours. Not that Anita could see much of the bustle as a thick sea fret had engulfed the huge cargo ships and ferries. Squinting through the wire fencing that separated her from the docks, she could just discern the hulking shapes of the container trucks rumbling towards their waiting vessels. Even the sounds of all this activity were muffled by the fog.
Anita parked her car, acutely aware of what a mess it seemed in contrast to Peter Uhlig’s Mercedes. Wallen hadn’t said anything, but Anita knew what she must be thinking. Kevin had cleaned it out a couple of times during his sojourn. Maybe she had been too hasty in driving him away.
‘I’ve been thinking about a connection between the two kidnap victims,’ Anita said as she pulled the key out of the ignition.
‘Other than that they’re both stinking rich,’ Wallen observed dryly.
‘Obviously they have that in common. But Uhlig is in freight. It would be interesting to know if his trucks use MM Data software. Möller’s clients are in the automotive industry. Might be a link.’
As they waited in the reception area for Uhlig’s daughter, Anita gazed around the walls, which showed the various stages of the Uhlig company history. Old black and white prints of the shipyards in Malmö contrasted with colourful, up-to-date photos of the latest Trellogistics trucks. There were no pictures of any of the Uhlig family over the generations. Business came before ego.
They were ushered into a meeting room. This, too, was functional, with a large pine table surrounded by stiff, upright chairs. No one lounged here. There was a map of northern Europe on the wall. Trelleborg seemed to be at its centre with arrows emanating from the town in all directions. What contrasted with the utilitarian surroundings was the woman sitting on the opposite side of the table. Anita knew that she must be about forty, though she looked anything but. You didn’t expect to see someone with long, green-streaked hair in the staid meeting room of one of Sweden’s oldest companies. The three nose rings confirmed that Ann-Kristen Uhlig probably wasn’t a typical board member of a freight-forwarding organisation. An electronic cigarette protruded from firm lips, but what really caught Anita’s attention were her eyes. Accentuated by black eye shadow, they were blue, bold and challenging; similar to the ones in the photograph Moberg had produced of her father. At first glance, she didn’t appear like a woman who would collapse in a crisis. Certainly, with her father’s life hanging in the balance, she needed to be strong. Vapour escaped from her mouth as she indicated that they should sit.
Anita opened by introducing herself and Wallen and stressing that they were fully aware that all discussions were to be kept strictly confidential. She also explained that they had found Peter Uhlig’s car and that they thought he may have been flagged down. When Ann-Kristen spoke, she had a thin, sing-song voice that made her sound more like a little girl than a mature woman.
‘That’s typical of Pappa. He would have thought nothing of stopping to help.’ With a flourish of her cigarette, she continued: ‘I’ve stepped in to keep an eye on the business while Pappa is... well, while he’s indisposed. The company is in good hands. There’s a good management team here.’
‘We’re aware that all the staff are being kept in the dark about what’s happened—’
‘Except the financial director,’ Ann-Kristen cut in.
‘Oh?’
‘For purely practical reasons. The family... well, my sister Birgitta and I are responsible for raising the money. Mamma’s so devastated by all this that she’s in no state to coordinate things. Birgitta is seeing to the raising of money from our personal sources. Luckily, she has a wealthy husband, which is useful.’ There was a hint of disdain in her voice. ‘Frans Losell has pledged his help.’ Anita knew the Losell name from the chain of electrical stores. Money marries money in business circles.
‘Do you have a husband... partner that can help?’ Wallen asked. Anita could tell it was more out of curiosity than garnering information.
‘I have money through the family. My wife doesn’t.’ Anita saw Wallen’s hint of a flinch. So did Ann-Kristen. ‘Ella may one day, but with a struggling conceptual artist, it’s the work that counts, not the financial rewards.’ Wallen shifted uneasily under Ann-Kristen’s contemptuous gaze. Anita knew that Wallen had unfashionably forthright views on both lesbians and contemporary art, presumably fostered by the loathsome Rolf.
‘And your role?’ said Anita, drawing Ann-Kristen’s attention away from Klara Wallen.
‘I’m seeing what we can raise through the company. That’s why I have to talk to our financial director, Paul Martinsson.’ Ann-Kristen returned to her vaping.
‘OK, that’s understandable. But we have to ask if there might be anyone in the organisation who has a grudge against your father, or may exploit the situation for their own financial benefit.’
Ann-Kristen held her cigarette at arm’s length. ‘I know what you’re getting at. Did the kidnappers get inside information on my father’s movements? A number of people here would be aware of the route he took to work. It’s easy enough to work out. But I doubt there’s an inside man... or woman,’ she added with a gimlet stare at Wallen. ‘He may not be universally loved, but he’s respected. He’s a good and fair employer.’
Anita knew she couldn’t take it any further without alerting the staff to the situation. Maybe when they got Peter Uhlig back safely, they could investigate properly. There was a chance that someone on the inside had supplied information.
‘Can I ask you if Trellogistics has had any business dealings with MM Data?’
‘A connection with the Mats Möller kidnap?’ Ann-Kristen might appear flaky, but there was a sharp mind there. ‘Trellogistics do use MM Data’s software in the trucks. We’ve had quite a close relationship with them in the last couple of years. Socially, too,’ she added. ‘Mats came to see Ella’s latest installation at the Modern Art Museum in Malmö, and he supports a number of my charities.’
Anita wound up the interview. As she and Wallen headed for the door, the laid-back
poise that had begun to make Anita think Ann-Kristen didn’t care about her father abruptly changed.
‘Please don’t let anything happen to Pappa.’
CHAPTER 10
Hakim rubbed his eyes. Two days sourcing and going through the area’s limited amount of CCTV footage of vehicles driving in and around Malmö was driving him a little insane. Was this really what a career as a detective was all about? He knew he was the most technically savvy member of the team, but he was always given this job. He knew its importance, of course. It just wasn’t exciting. It wasn’t even interesting. He yawned and stretched. His arms ached. He stood up and did further stretching. But whatever calisthenics he tried weren’t going to make the Danish van appear. He’d seen all sorts of examples of bad driving, haphazard parking, deliberate speeding and near misses. Some had been quite amusing, and he was thinking it might be fun to put a compilation tape together... when he had time.
He went over to the office window and leant his head against the glass. It felt cool. It was sunny outside, and the folk of Malmö were enjoying their Saturday afternoon. It felt like he was the only person working. Construction work on the new apartments just down from the polishus had ceased over the weekend. One more piece of the city disappearing under concrete. His wandering eye fixed on a young couple sitting on the grass in Rörsjöparken opposite. She playfully slapped her partner, who was convulsed in laughter. They looked so happy. Still giggling, she jumped to her feet as he tried to trip her. She ran a few yards away and stuck her tongue out at the young man. Her litheness brought his own situation into sharp focus. His mind was racked with doubts and injustices.
Why had Allah allowed Liv to be shot? Why had Allah let him down? Or had he let Allah down? Was that it? He hadn’t been a regular at the Malmö Mosque for some time, much to his father’s sorrow. The truth was that he felt uncomfortable there. It was nothing to do with his beliefs, which weren’t especially strong. It was more that he felt he wasn’t trusted by the other members; particularly the younger men, who regarded a cop with natural suspicion. In some cases, Hakim encountered downright hostility. The Mosque had suffered a number of cases of sabotage over the years and a particularly catastrophic arson attack in 2003. No arrests had been made, and so it was natural that many lacked faith in the police and those in authority. His father’s attitude to Liv had been antagonistic as soon as he had learnt of Hakim’s intentions. His mother hadn’t been much better, though she hadn’t voiced her concerns to him directly. Though they disapproved of Jazmin’s relationship with the atheistic Lasse, their attitude had softened when Leyla came on the scene. What annoyed Hakim was that his father wasn’t by any means a fundamentalist, nor was he intolerant of the beliefs of others – he had mixed with westerners for years in his work as an art dealer before the family fled Iraq. From what he’d been told, Uday and Amira Mirza had lived a western lifestyle in a smart suburb of Baghdad. Sweden had given them a home and freedom, though their fortunes were never the same again. They were living in Seved, which, as Hakim knew only too well, was on the high-profile police list of fifteen districts throughout the country regarded as ‘especially vulnerable areas’. That meant gangs of youths hovering around, drugs openly bought and sold, and the postal company refusing to deliver parcels directly to homes. But now life in Seved was slowly improving; the area being gradually turned around by the community, and his father was playing a small part in this. So why couldn’t Uday come to terms with him marrying Liv? Of course, his parents had both been shocked and concerned about the shooting. They made efforts to be supportive of Liv, and Hakim had had to accept an uneasy truce when he was forced to sell his apartment and move back in with them until he and Liv could buy somewhere suitable to live together. Hakim understood the pressure his father was under from members of the Mosque and the Iraqi community and, consequently, his resentment was tempered by that knowledge. Uday was a proud man and didn’t want to be undermined by his son. Hakim wished he could be more like his hot-headed sister, who didn’t give a damn about what others thought of her and her situation, especially her parents. She just got on with life in the way she wanted to.
MALICE IN MALMÖ Page 6