“I don’t see what I’m looking for,” said Rystrom.
“What’s that?” asked Granholm.
“I’ll know it when I see it,” he said, smiling at her.
“Why don’t we look around outside?” Ekman said, and they headed to an exit.
Daoud had followed them into the shopping center and walked behind them as they left. He jumped into the panel truck that had pulled up beside him, and that slowly trailed after the three visitors.
They wandered away from the busy thoroughfare into less crowded side streets, looking at different shops.
Rystrom paused to examine the window of a jewelry store. “I’m going in here,” he said. “I’ll be a little while. Why don’t you keep on down this street and I’ll catch up shortly.”
“Okay,” said Ekman. He guessed what Rystrom had in mind, and so did she: an unusual engagement ring.
Rystrom went in the store and the two of them continued slowly on for half a block down the street, which had only a few pedestrians and vehicles.
The panel truck pulled ahead of them and stopped halfway up on the sidewalk. Harrak and Daoud got out quickly, and coming around the truck, blocked the way preventing Ekman and Granholm from going by. There was no one else on the street ahead or behind them, and the truck concealed what was happening from some people across the way. The Moroccans pulled out pistols, and Daoud jerked open the truck’s side door.
“Get in,” said Harrak in English in a harsh voice, aiming his gun at them.
Ekman and Granholm stood frozen, exchanging shocked looks.
“Get in now or I’ll kill you right here,” said Harrak, in a voice that told them he meant it.
Ekman didn’t understand why this was happening, but they had no choice. He climbed into the truck and helped Granholm in.
The door slid shut and locked, as Harrak and Daoud got back in front and Serhane gunned the engine.
Ekman and Granholm sat on the corrugated metal floor. As the truck accelerated and swayed, he put his arm around her shoulder to steady her.
“Try not to worry. We’ll sort this out,” he said. But he knew they were in dire trouble.
When Rystrom came out of the jewelry store a short time later with a small, gift-wrapped package in his pocket, he was elated. He’d found exactly what he’d wanted. He looked up the road where his friends should be, but there was no sign of them. Perhaps they’d gone into a store.
He started along the street, peering into store fronts, and kept this up for half an hour. Eventually he decided they must have become tired and headed back, although it was strange they’d do that without telling him. Rystrom had become increasingly annoyed with them when he finally gave up and got a cab to the hotel.
He found that Ekman and Granholm weren’t in their rooms or anywhere else in the hotel. Now he became really worried and decided to call Barrada.
The handwritten number on the back of Barrada’s card was his personal cell phone, so he tried that first.
“Barrada here.”
“It’s Garth Rystrom, Commissaire,” he said, and quickly explained the situation.
There was a long silence. For a moment Rystrom thought the call had been dropped.
“Stay at your hotel, Herr Rystrom. I’m already on my way to Marrakech and will be with you in an hour.” The line went dead.
91
HOSTAGES
Friday, February 24, 1:15 p.m. The truck had been driven into a garage and Ekman and Granholm had been ordered to get out. They were marched at gunpoint into a connected building that appeared to be a warehouse, and then down a dimly lit back corridor to the room they were now in. Its heavy wooden door had slammed shut behind their captors and they were left alone.
It was a stifling, windowless cement box with a single air vent. Florescent lights glared down on three wooden chairs and a table. Three folding cots were stacked against a wall and on Ekman’s right was a small alcove with a toilet and tiny sink. The room had apparently been set up for three captives, but Rystrom had gotten lucky.
“What are we going to do, Walther?” asked Granholm in a voice she was struggling to control.
It was apparent to Ekman that she was scared, but trying hard not to show it.
“There’s nothing we can do right now, Valdis. We’ll just have to wait and see what they want,” he said and sat down on one of the chairs which creaked under his weight.
She took another chair. “Who are these men and why have they done this?”
“They’re probably part of the trafficking ring. Why they’ve kidnapped us isn’t clear. I don’t know what they hope to gain,” Ekman replied.
As though in answer to their questions, the door opened and the three men came back in, two with guns in their hands. Ekman and Granholm got to their feet.
“Sit back down,” ordered Harrak, as Serhane handed them cold bottles of water. They were terribly thirsty and quickly opened them and took long swallows.
“What do you want from us?” asked Ekman, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
“Just cooperation. If I get it, and all goes well, you’ll be free to leave in a few days,” Harrak replied.
“What sort of cooperation?”
“First, you need to call your friend. I expect he’s back at your hotel by now,” Harrak said, taking out a cell phone.
“No doubt he’s worried about you and you should reassure him.”
“What else do you want me to say?”
“He’s to give a message to Barrada telling him to back off. Coming from one of you, rather than me, it should be more persuasive. I know he’s planning to stop my auction, but he must agree not to interfere and to let the buyers leave Morocco with their purchases.”
“And if he won’t agree?” It was an outrageous demand. Ekman thought Barrada would never consent.
“Then things will go very badly for you, your lovely companion, and all the women,” Harrak replied.
“So we’re the leverage?”
“If you want to put it that way, yes, all of you are my leverage.”
“I don’t think Barrada can afford to accept your offer. He’d lose every bit of credibility and be fired.”
“Perhaps. But would the government be willing to admit they’d caused the deaths of two Swedish police officers and five European women? It would become an international scandal they don’t want. Will you give him my message?”
“Yes, but I think you’re making a terrible mistake. Barrada can’t agree to your terms, and if you harm us and the women, he’ll come after you and your organization with everything he’s got.”
“We’ll worry about that later,” Harrak said. The prospect didn’t seem to faze him. Ekman wondered why.
“For now, just pass on the message.” He punched in some numbers and handed the phone to Ekman. “It’s ringing at the hotel.”
Rystrom was in his room, pacing restlessly as he waited for Barrada to get there, when the phone rang. He rushed over to it.
“Rystrom,” he said.
“Garth, it’s Walther.”
“Thank God. I was going crazy with worry. Are you and Valdis all right?”
“We’re okay. For now. We’re being held by the traffickers. I don’t know where we are. They want me to give you a message for Barrada.”
“I spoke with him a little while ago. He should be at the hotel in the next half hour.”
“Well, here’s the message: they want him to let the auction go through and let the buyers take the women out of the country. If he doesn’t agree, they’re threatening to kill us and the women.”
“But Barrada will never agree.”
“I’ve already told the kidnappers that. They think he’ll give in to avoid an international incident.”
“Say good-bye,” Harrak said.
“I have to go now. Good-bye, Garth. Help us if you can.” He handed the phone to Harrak who shut it off.
“I did what you asked,” Ekman said.
“We’ll see
what the results are fairly soon I think.”
He and the two other men turned and left the room.
Granholm had been listening intently to the conversation.
“Is Garth all right?” she asked.
“He’s fine. He’s waiting for Barrada, who should be at the hotel soon.”
“Will Barrada do what they want?”
“I don’t see how he can.”
“Do you think this man is bluffing?”
“Maybe. If he goes ahead with his threat, there’s no way out for him, even though he acts like somehow there is. I can’t imagine what it could be.”
“Walther, tell me straight: are we going to die?”
“Don’t give up hope, Valdis. Everything is too uncertain now to give way to despair.” He went over and hugged her tightly for a moment. “We have to be strong.”
Rystrom had gone down to the lobby to wait for Barrada. When he saw him enter, he was surprised. Barrada’s usual conservative business suit had been replaced by a green and brown field uniform with the shoulder boards of a brigadier general.
Barrada saw him, and noticed Rystrom’s drawn face.
“How are you, my friend?” he asked.
“Not well. We need to talk,” Rystrom replied, quickly leading the way to a secluded seating area just off the lobby.
“There isn’t much time,” Barrada said.
“This won’t take long,” said Rystrom, as he gave him Harrak’s message.
Barrada was silent for a moment. “It can’t be done. I have my orders and they won’t be changed.”
“So my friends and those women will be killed? There’s no alternative? Can’t we negotiate with this guy?”
“I know all about him. He never negotiates. We just have to go in. I know where your friends are and I have a busload of heavily armed men with me.”
“But that won’t help them.”
“We’ll see,” said Barrada, standing. “Are you coming with me?”
“I need to be there,” Rystrom said, as he got up. His heart was sinking as he thought about Valdis and Walther. Somehow he had to help save them.
92
DEATHS
Friday, February 24, 4:40 p.m. The three men burst into the room with their guns out, startling Ekman and Granholm.
“Get up,” screamed Harrak, and shoved them both out the door ahead of him.
His two men led the way, running rapidly down several twisting corridors. “Faster,” he yelled, pushing his captives in the back. Somewhere behind them, Ekman heard barked orders and the sound of many running feet.
The two men suddenly turned into a room with Ekman, Granholm, and Harrak just behind them. They all stopped as Harrak slammed shut a steel door and slid home two bolts.
The medium-size room contained a metal desk, three chairs, and two tall filing cabinets. A large safe stood against the rear wall. Harrak’s office was also his safe room, a place he could retreat to.
“Sit down,” he ordered. Granholm and Ekman pulled over two of the chairs and sat facing the door.
“Your friend wasn’t convincing enough. Barrada and his men are here now. Don’t expect to be rescued. He’s signed your death warrant.”
“Let me talk to him,” said Ekman in desperation. “We can work something out that you can accept.”
“I don’t negotiate. He had my offer and turned it down by coming here. I won’t have a chance now to kill the women, but you two will die as they come through that door. You’re lucky, it will be a quick death,” he said, and stepping behind Ekman leveled his pistol at the back of his head. He gestured to Daoud, who did the same to Granholm.
Serhane stood behind all of them in the rear of the room with his gun at his side.
They waited in silence for several minutes and then heard a pounding on the door.
“Give up, Harrak, and let them go,” yelled Barrada in Moroccan.
“Fuck you. I’m going to kill them in the next ten seconds,” Harrak yelled back. “One, two …”
Barrada had six of his men in SWAT gear with him and motioned to four others holding a heavy metal battering ram. They swung it at the door, which gave a little. Rystrom stood next to Barrada, horrified by what was happening.
“Five, six …” They swung it again and the door gave some more but still held. They wouldn’t be in time.
“Eight, nine …” Two shots rang out.
93
DISCOVERY
Friday, February 24, 4:46 p.m. Rystrom and Barrada and his men paused, shocked by the sound of the gunshots. Barrada gestured again at the men with the battering ram. With a huge swing, they crashed it into the door as it finally buckled and sprang open.
Rystrom had tried to steel himself, picturing his friends lying dead, but was astounded to see them standing, huddled in a corner of the room. Lying crumpled on the floor were the bodies of Harrak and Daoud with bullets in their heads.
Serhane stood over them, his gun now shoved into his pocket, as Barrada ran up to him and his men rushed into the room.
Serhane saluted and said, “I know you wanted to take him alive, but I had no choice, sir.”
“You did what had to be done,” Barrada said, and clapped him on the shoulder.
Rystrom had shoved his way in after Barrada. Going to Ekman and Granholm he gave her a tight hug, before turning to Ekman and asking, “Are you okay?”
“More than okay,” said Ekman. “That’s as close to death as either of us ever want to be for a long time.”
Serhane and Barrada had come over to them as Barrada’s men dragged the two bodies into the corridor.
“I’d like to introduce Senior Inspector Karim Serhane,” Barrada said.
The three Swedish officers’ amazement was written on their faces.
“We owe you our lives, Inspector,” said Ekman, recovering from his surprise. His feelings had been on a roller coaster from peaks of anxiety and fear to resignation at imminent death, and then profound relief. Now he felt emotionally drained, as well as physically exhausted.
Granholm wanted to hug Serhane, but remembered that wouldn’t do in Morocco, and just shook his hand, adding her thanks over and over, as Rystrom did the same.
“I only did what had to be done,” Serhane said, embarrassed.
“No false modesty, Karim,” Barrada said. “He’s the most brilliant undercover officer we have. But there will be time for explanations. Now let’s find those women.”
The five women had heard the commotion and the shots, and stood petrified in the middle of their prison room as they watched the door swing open.
They didn’t know what would happen to them next, but the tall, red-haired woman who came toward them was totally unexpected.
“My name is Valdis Granholm,” she said in English. “I’m a Swedish police officer. You’re safe and free at last. Do you understand me?”
At first they just stared at her, uncomprehending. Then they began to cry, with long, sobbing sounds. As tears streamed down their faces, Granholm went up to Ilinca, who stood in front, and held her close for several minutes.
When Granholm turned to Ekman and Rystrom standing in the doorway, they saw her face was streaked with tears, and these two, hardened officers found their own eyes had become moist.
94
EXPLANATIONS
Friday, February 24, 8 p.m. Ekman, Granholm, and Rystrom sat on one side of the small hotel conference table sipping the champagne and hungrily consuming the appetizers Barrada had ordered, while he and Serhane sat facing them drinking orange juice.
As soon as they’d gotten to the hotel, Ekman and Granholm had excused themselves to shower and change into fresh clothes. Now they and Rystrom were anxiously waiting to hear what Barrada had to say, but first he’d insisted on observing the amenities by having drinks and food served.
After a series of mutual toasts, Ekman finally said, “Commissaire, or should I call you General, don’t keep us in suspense any longer, I don’t think we can stand it.”
Barrada smiled. “All right,” he said. “I know you’re concerned about the women. They’ve been taken in ambulances to Marrakech’s Ibn Tofail University Hospital. I’ve ordered guards placed outside their rooms as a precaution against members of Harrak’s family attempting to retrieve or silence them.
“Let me start at the beginning. As you know, I’m a divisional commissaire in the Sûreté Nationale, and as you see, a brigadier general in the army reserves. I report only to the minister of the interior, a cousin of His Majesty Mohammed VI. In actuality I work directly for our king, the source of all real authority in Morocco, on projects that are particularly sensitive.
“My country is modernizing rapidly, although customs and traditions still play a major role. But drug and women trafficking rings will no longer operate with impunity. They undermine His Majesty’s efforts to make Morocco a modern country.
“The Joumari family’s activities have been well known to us in the police for a long time, but they were protected by the makhzen, the elite who have traditionally run Morocco. Through bribery, and favors for people high up in the government, Joumari’s operations had become untouchable. But with the king’s new policy, and the old man’s death that ended the personal immunity he enjoyed, everything changed.
“Harrak was oblivious to this, and still thought he was protected. That’s why he believed he could kidnap you,” Barrada said, looking at Ekman and Granholm, “or even kill you, and get away with it.
“Karim had been selected to penetrate their operation and had become a favorite of old Joumari.”
“I even had some hope of becoming his successor and discovering everything about their activities, until Harrak took over,” Serhane added. “I kept the commissaire up to date on exactly where the women were being taken and all that was going on, but I have to apologize to you,” he said to Ekman and Granholm. “Harrak didn’t share his plan to kidnap you and use you as leverage until it was actually put into operation and too late to warn you.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Ekman said. “You should know, however, that we suspected you of killing Ivar Skarin and the others in Sweden.” He watched Serhane closely. Could he have gone that far to protect his undercover role?
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