Anger Mode

by Stefan Tegenfalk

  “We’re not planning to move him, but if that happens, you will be the first to know,” the doctor replied, dryly.

  JONNA LOOKED THOUGHTFULLY at Walter as they came out of the hospital. “I believe he’s telling the truth,” she said.

  “Believing is not the same as knowing,” Walter said, seating himself in the Porsche.

  “But he doesn’t know anything. Rather, he doesn’t remember anything,” Jonna said and started the car.

  “Memory loss is an excuse used by many,” Walter said. “His motive, on the other hand, is not as easy to fathom.”

  “And what could the motive be, then?”

  “Well, you tell me,” Walter said with a sigh. “He was hardly after the taxi driver’s cash.”

  “It just seems so unlikely,” Jonna said, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Yes. What the hell really happened in that car?” Walter said as he put his seat belt on. “The guy must have totally lost his mind.”

  CHAPTER 5

  AT ELEVEN SHARP, Sanna appeared, walking around the corner of the hot-dog stand that stood right next to Vällingby tube station. Her baggy camouflage trousers, grey gangster jacket and big smile made Malin cheer up.

  “Wossup?” Sanna greeted Malin and gave her a hug.

  “Hey, you smell really nice,” Malin reciprocated.

  “Escada; it’s my mum’s.”

  “Does she let you use her perfume?” Malin asked, surprised.

  “Whatever,” Sanna shrugged. “She won’t notice anything. She was sleeping like a pig when I left. Guess who was totally pissed yesterday?”

  “No, who?” Malin asked even though she knew the answer.

  “Mum,” Sanna said, on edge.

  “Not again,” Malin said, faking surprise. She felt sorry for Sanna.

  “Check this out,” Sanna exclaimed and took out two five-hundred-crown notes that she proceeded to wave in front of Malin’s face.

  Malin said nothing and stared intensely at the two notes.

  “I got them off Mum last night,” Sanna grinned. “She was so drunk that she didn’t know what she was doing.”

  “Wow!” Malin said, astonished.

  “Jompa won fifty grand on the horses at Solvalla. He came over to our house, totally smashed, with a few bottles of booze. Mum took the bait immediately. They boozed all night like there was no tomorrow. Can you believe it?” Sanna fixed her eyes on Malin and grinned at the same time.

  “But Jompa has beaten up your mum before?” Malin said, in utter confusion. “It was over between them?”

  “Yes, but jeez,” Sanna groaned. “A few bottles of booze and fifty grand. Don’t you get it?”

  “Sure,” Malin lied, not able to figure it out. How could she take back a person who hits her all the time? That Sanna’s mum was a drunk, she knew already, but she could not really understand why she kept getting back together with that Jompa character.

  “Fuck, we’re missing the train,” Sanna yelled and set off towards the tube-station turnstiles. Sanna waited for Malin to catch up and, on an agreed signal, they jumped over the turnstiles without paying. They ran down the stairs to the platform and, with the smallest of margins, pushed inside the train carriage just as the doors closed behind them.

  “Are there any others coming?” Malin asked as they moved farther into the carriage and sat down in some unoccupied seats.

  “Umm … I think so.”

  “Who’s that then?” Malin asked.

  “Habib and the gang, sort of,” Sanna said.

  She took out her mobile phone to send a text.

  “Has he got weed, then?”

  “Mmm … yeah,” Sanna replied.

  Malin silently observed Sanna.

  “It’s going to be bloody fun, trust me,” Sanna said, looking up from the phone as she finished texting. “Musse’s mum and old man are in the Lebanon. It will be totally fucking ace.”

  “Christ, really sweet,” Malin laughed. She put her feet on the seat and looked at the ceiling. She thought about the last time she had tried real cannabis, how fantastic it was, how beautiful it was to disappear into the fog and away from all the fucking must-dos that were everywhere. Sanna was the best friend she could imagine. Today was going to be a great day.

  “JONNA DE BRUGGE,” Jonna announced and shook hands.

  “I don’t seem to have had the pleasure of meeting you before,” Chief Inspector David Lilja answered, with a blindingly white smile. “But it appears that you’re already up to speed.”

  “Yes, one could say that,” Jonna smiled back and turned around to see where Walter had disappeared to.

  “You seem very young,” said Chief Prosecutor Åsa Julén in a sceptical voice.

  “Twenty-six,” answered Jonna quickly, at the same time realizing that Åsa Julén must be twice her own age.

  “Yes, RSU seems to have a preference for young candidates,” Julén said and she looked to Lilja for agreement. He nodded in a non-committal manner that could be interpreted in many different ways.

  Jonna glanced at the door and silently swore at herself because she had not noticed that Walter had disappeared behind her. Now she had to stand with those four inquisitive eyes upon her and make small talk to pass the time.

  CHIEF PROSECUTOR ÅSA JULÉN fidgeted with discomfort when Walter eventually came into the meeting room. He had been standing with Cederberg in the corridor, embroiled in a long discussion about the pimp’s alibi. Walter sat himself down at the small conference table without saying a word. A chill spread throughout the room, and Jonna could detect the frostiness in the eyes of both Walter and the Chief Prosecutor.

  Lilja cleared his throat as if he was about to apologize. “Chief Prosecutor Åsa Julén will be leading the preliminary investigation into Bror Lantz,” he started and looked authoritatively at Walter.

  Walter did not move a muscle. The sight of Julén automatically put him in a bad mood. No amount of coffee in the world could change that.

  Lilja started to gather some papers on the table. “Shall we go through the situation on Bror Lantz?” he started.

  It was quiet in the room. Lilja looked expectantly at Walter.

  “Yes, let’s do that,” interjected Jonna, when Walter did not answer. “We have initially questioned Lantz,” she began, and she felt her hands beginning to sweat. “And what we can say thus far is that he doesn’t seem to remember very much of the actual incident. He gives the impression that he wasn’t mentally aware during the greater part of the taxi journey. He doesn’t know how or why the taxi collided. He has no recollection whatsoever of the collision or of what happened before the collision – other than that he was hot and heard voices in his head. There’s no sign of memory loss caused by physical factors such as a blow to the head. According to the doctors, he could be suffering from temporary amnesia due to trauma. In other words, we have nothing to go on at this point, with the exception of the belt and the marks on the driver’s neck. You already have the preliminary forensic report, as well as the witness statements taken by the Traffic Police. It wasn’t possible to retrieve the camera footage from the taxi, so there’s nothing for us there. Additionally, there’s no clear motive,” Jonna finished, and felt her pulse rate was now at an all-time high. She reached for a glass of water and wondered why Walter had not answered. Maybe he was testing her ability. He probably wanted to see her mess up.

  Walter nodded in agreement as both Lilja and Julén looked at him to confirm the validity of his trainee’s report.

  “Has he said anything of significance at all?” Julén asked, still sceptical.

  “Nothing – because he can’t recall anything,” answered Jonna, encouraged by Walter’s silent approval. “And the obvious question is whether he ever will remember anything. In any event, it will be nothing that will be to his disadvantage.” Jonna glanced at Walter, who did not move a muscle. He slouched in his chair like a sullen teenager.

  The Chief Prosecutor carefully examined some papers she
held in her hands. It was obviously the preliminary report from Forensics.

  “I can’t possibly make a case the way things are now,” Julén began. “We’re talking about circumstantial evidence such as the marks on the taxi driver’s neck and a witness who thinks he saw something. That’s not sufficient – with, or without, the belt found on the back seat. In addition, there’s no credible motive, and a psychiatric examination just because he says he heard voices is out of the question.” Julén looked at Lilja, who nodded in agreement.

  Walter straightened up and rested his elbows on the table. “And that’s just what you wanted,” he said.

  “And what is it that I wanted?” answered Julén dryly.

  “To shut down the investigation so you don’t have to prosecute a judge. It wouldn’t look good for a judge to go around strangling people, would it? Or are there personal reasons for your agenda?”

  Cover-ups in the police and prosecution authorities made Walter see red. That they existed was common knowledge within the organizations. The degree of whitewashing depended on where a person worked and which position they held, but, in most cases, everyone was always watching each other’s back.

  “I’m not going to listen to any more of your insults,” Julén answered and stood up. “Your mere presence is ample offence, if I may speak freely.”

  “You can speak as freely as you like, as long as it’s valid and constructive criticism,” replied Walter.

  Lilja glared at Walter while cursing silently under his breath.

  “As I said, I will most certainly not raise charges against Lantz. The Traffic Police will finish this investigation, as a road traffic accident in which the taxi driver made a fatal turn without a seat belt. We cannot, of course, charge the deceased for criminal negligence,” said Julén, looking at Lilja, who had become even more red-faced than he usually was.

  It was silent in the room. Jonna felt her cheeks flush. The whole situation was embarrassing, not for her, but for Julén and Walter. Two adults fighting like kids.

  “You’ll have my final decision tomorrow,” Julén finished and left the room.

  “You really handled that well, Walter,” said Lilja, breaking the silence. “I’m aware of the unhealthily chilly relationship between you two, but it cannot affect your work. Am I making myself clear?’’

  “With all due respect,” interrupted Jonna, “I don’t think I have anything more to add at this time.” She looked apologetically at Walter and Lilja.

  “I’ll write the final report and you’ll have it on your desk before the end of the day,” Walter said and quickly got up from his chair.

  “I can understand your frustration,” Lilja answered, “but it’s still the Chief Prosecutor who has the final decision. We can safely assume that the preliminary investigation against Lantz will be shut down.”

  “One hell of an investigation. It will probably go down in the history books as one of our shortest and most cursory,” Walter said ironically, and followed Jonna out of the room.

  Walter did not know what else to conclude except that Julén was exceptionally lenient in her judgment of Lantz and that he himself was a dutiful police officer following direct orders. Sitting and protesting would not make a bit of difference. If a cover-up was the reason for Julén’s decision, it would not be the first time that Walter had encountered this problem. Normally, it was the police who covered up for each other in various situations, not prosecutors that cleaned up after judges. This was a new phenomenon.

  But the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Julén would stick her neck out for some judge in the judiciary system.

  She loved her job too much and was a person who played safe.

  However, he could not do much more in this matter. More important cases were waiting, like that prostitution scandal – unless the pimp also had a prosecutor watching his back.

  “Do you fancy tagging along and shooting holes in a watertight alibi?” asked Walter, watching Jonna, who had just finished draining a can of Ramlösa mineral water.

  She nodded eagerly.

  “I thought as much,” Walter said quietly to himself and chewed on a cough drop.

  KARIN CAME TO a standstill outside the entrance to the Stockholm District Court and caught her breath. Her anxiety about Malin refused to leave her, despite the fact that in a few minutes she would be sitting with the other members of the court jury to listen to the closing arguments. She took out her mobile phone and searched for the number for Malin’s school. She left a voicemail for Malin’s class teacher, Klas Keiier, and asked him to call her back. Then she set the phone on silent mode and put it back into her handbag. “Damn it, what a bad day this is turning into,” she thought and went in through the door.

  MALIN AND SANNA walked out onto Köpenhamnsgatan, which was right outside Kista tube station, and turned up towards Kastrupgatan. Grey, three-storey buildings with rust-red balconies spread out along both sides of the street. On almost every balcony, there was a satellite dish, sometimes so big that it hid the whole balcony. Malin felt the cold and damp air find its way through her thin jacket. She began to shiver. Whether this was due to the cold or her excitement, she did not know. Anyway, they would soon be at their destination. They went in through the outer doorway into one of the blocks of flats that lay at the far end of the street and went up to the second floor. Sanna rang the doorbell.

  After the chime from the doorbell had subsided, all they heard was a brief silence. Sanna rang the bell once again. Once again, the answer was silence. Sanna put her ear against the door crack to listen for any sound. “Where the fuck is he?” she looked, puzzled, at Malin.

  Sanna took out her mobile phone and was just about to punch in the number for Mustafa when she heard steps from inside the flat.

  “Fuck, are you deaf?” said Sanna, glaring angrily at Mustafa when he opened the door.

  “Chill. I was sleeping, ya know?” answered Mustafa with a yawn.

  “Yeah, we noticed,” Sanna said sourly. “Shit, I thought you’d pissed off.”

  “You know how fucking tired I am, right?” answered Mustafa apologetically.

  “No, I don’t know. You weren’t tired this morning when I was talking to you on the mobile,” said Sanna and looked at Malin for confirmation.

  Malin nodded in agreement, as if she had been there.

  “Fuck that,” Mustafa said. He turned around and went back into the hallway.

  Sanna and Malin followed.

  “Habib was here earlier,” he continued with his eyes fixed on the floor. “He was shit-pissed at me because I had scored weed for myself and not from him. He wanted to know who the fucking Swede dealer was. I said I didn’t know him.”

  “So?” asked Sanna. “What do we care?”

  Mustafa looked up for some sympathy, but neither Sanna nor Malin were interested in listening to Mustafa’s whining about Habib. Instead, they went into the living room.

  Malin looked around. She had never been to Mustafa’s before. It was as if she had come to a foreign country. The décor was oriental, with a large Persian rug covering the best part of the floor. Paintings with motifs from some desert landscape hung on all the walls and, in a corner, there was a hookah filled with ornaments.

  Sanna and Malin sat on the sofa. Sanna put her feet up on the coffee table, took out two five-hundred-crown notes, and waved them around.

  “Check it out. One thousand,” she said to Mustafa with a big smile.

  “I told you that you didn’t need any cash,” Mustafa said and sat down in the armchair facing them. “That Swede dealer is giving away the dope. The only thing I had to do was to make sure you two were here.”

  Surprised, Malin stared at Sanna, who shrugged her shoulders.

  “Who cares?” sighed Sanna. “I don’t know this Swedish dealer. Do you?”

  Malin shook her head.

  “No, we don’t know any dealers, and if that guy wants to give away dope just because we’re here, then that�
�s cool,” said Sanna.

  A worried wrinkle appeared on Malin’s forehead. “Did you know about this?” she asked Sanna.

  “Kind of,” answered Sanna, as if it was a trivial detail.

  “How does he know who we are? What if it’s the cops?” Malin said, worried.

  “Are you dumb or what?” interrupted Mustafa. “You remember last week, when we were in town and you guys went home earlier?”

  “Yeah, so what?” said Malin.

  “This guy came up to me when I was on the square after you’d left. He said he wanted to be my supplier.”

  “Supplier?” said Malin.

  “I told him to go to hell. It could have been the cops.” Mustafa shrugged. “The guy said it was cool. He stashed a bag of dope and a note with his mobile number in my pocket. Then he pissed off. Do you think a cop would do that?”

  Malin looked at Sanna.

  “Fuck, that dope was really good shit,” continued Mustafa, excited. “I called him yesterday and was going to buy some. He said that he would give away as much as I wanted if only I took you two along. I asked him how he could know that I know you. He said that I shouldn’t ask so many questions, but that it was cool.”

  “What’s cool?” asked Malin. She looked at Sanna, but Sanna had lost interest in the subject.

  “How the fuck should I know?” exclaimed Mustafa. “He just said it was cool.”

  “What did he look like?” asked Malin. For a brief moment, she thought that it could be her dad. But it was impossible that he could be a dealer. She could not think of any other adult that she knew, other than one of her teachers or someone her mother knew. But she could not believe it would be any of them.

  “A regular geezer,” Mustafa described him. “Maybe thirty, forty years old, with a beard.”

  Malin did not understand. She looked at Sanna, who looked away. Would a dealer offer free dope just so Sanna and I would be here?

  “He’s not a perv, is he?” Malin asked anxiously.

  “He’s okay, I said. Maybe he’s seen you some place. It could be a neighbour of yours or something. I don’t fucking know.”