His cell phone started ringing on the passenger seat as he passed Stadshuset. He could see that it was Malin Rehnberg and let it go to voicemail. When she tried calling again a second later, he realized that she wouldn’t give up until he answered, like a stubborn mosquito with the scent of blood.
‘Hi, I was just about to call and see how you’re doing,’ he said, continuing across Vasabron.
‘Don’t make me laugh.’
‘Malin. I was actually just about to—’
‘If you’re so terribly interested, I can tell you that I’ve never been so bored in my whole life. I’m about to crawl out of my skin. And I promise you: if nothing happens soon, I’m going to go completely bananas. So tell me what’s going on,’
‘Not that much actually. I just had a meeting with Edelman, and we decided that I should start my Christmas vacation as of—’
‘Ha. Ha. Ha.’
‘What?’
‘Knock it off. Who are you trying to fool? Yourself?’
‘No, but maybe your husband,’ said Fabian, giving up with a sigh. ‘Are you aware that Anders has more or less forbidden me to talk with you?’
‘Forget about Anders and tell me what the hell’s happening!’
‘Okay, but listen at your own risk,’ said Fabian, who started to tell her about the passageway between Kremph’s and the condemned apartment and how the perpetrator must have been there recently to drown the woman on the bus, whose body had just been found in Hammarby Lake. He also told her about the hidden camera he’d found in the bookcase, the recorded cell phone call between Grimås and Edelman, and how they’d mentioned someone named Gidon Hass.
‘Wait a minute – we’re not talking about Edelman as in Herman Edelman?’
‘Yes.’
‘Shit. Do you seriously think he might be involved?’
‘He’s lying about the call, anyway, and he refuses to open the investigation again. He must be hiding something.’
‘And who is this Gidon Hass?’
‘An Israeli pathologist and organ transplant expert.’
‘Israel again. So that’s how they’re connected.’
‘My thoughts exactly. And it accounts for the fact that all three victims had an organ removed: Adam Fischer’s heart, Carl-Eric Grimås’ liver and Semira Ackerman’s cornea.’ Fabian turned left on to Timmermansgatan and realized that he was on his way home, although he had no idea of what he would do there. ‘Of course, we’ll have to check their medical records before we can be completely certain, but I suspect that all three had been on a waiting list for new organs in Sweden and had finally chosen to buy one on the illegal market instead. Now someone is going around collecting those parts.’
‘But why? Is it even possible to use them again? There must be some limit on how many times you can transplant an organ.’
‘I’m sure there must be, but if he was only after fresh organs, there are considerably simpler victims than the Minister for Justice, for example.’
‘Maybe he wants to punish the victims for their sins and teach them and everyone else considering an illegal organ a lesson?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Then he wouldn’t put so much energy into hiding the traces and framing Ossian Kremph. Whatever it is, it’s personal.’
‘This pathologist, what was his name again? Do we know anything else about him?’
‘His name is Gidon Hass and we don’t know much more than that he went to ground after he was fired from the institute in Abu Kabir. I would really like to do a more advanced search, but I’m not sure how to go about it now that the investigation is officially closed.’
‘Since when has that stopped you?’
She’d seen through him even before he knew his own intentions. Of course, he’d coldly calculated that Niva had already conducted the search on Hass.
‘Don’t you think I know that you’re working together again?’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘Stop it. Who else could have had access to that call between Edelman and Grimås? Just don’t say that I didn’t warn you.’
‘You’ve already said that once.’
‘And it warrants being said again. Speaking of that call, can you send the audio file over to me?’
‘Absolutely, I’ll do it as soon as I have a chance.’
‘That may have sounded like a question – my apologies. I want you to do it now, as in right away.’
‘Malin, I’m in the car and—’
‘So pull over. Fabian, I’m serious. I’ll go crazy if I don’t have something to sink my teeth into soon.’
Fabian looked around for a parking space on Fatbursgatan, when a black Volvo came out ahead of him and turned right on Swedenborgsgatan, even though it was for buses only. ‘Fine, but just so you know, I’ve listened to it several times and the only—’
‘I’ll go crazy for real.’
Fabian parked in an empty spot. ‘Can I send it to your personal email address?’
‘Use [email protected].’
‘A joint account?’
‘Yes, but he never uses it.’
Fabian found the email with the unknown sender and the ‘I was wrong’ in the subject line, and forwarded it to Malin. ‘You should have it any second,’ he said, before he ended the call, got out of the car, and walked up to the entrance to his building.
*
THE FIRST THING FABIAN noticed was that the little red diode didn’t blink when he entered the code. Thinking he’d entered the wrong digits, he repeated the process three times before it occurred to him that the entry door was unlocked. This wasn’t the first time the lock had got stuck: it was more the rule than the exception that it failed as soon as the temperature fell much below freezing.
He’d had a sense that something was off, but as soon as he got out of the elevator, all remaining doubt was gone. The door was ajar with the lock drilled out. He opened it carefully and went in.
It was clear from the hall that whoever had been for a visit was no longer there. They’d left a pile of chaos behind them – pulled-out drawers, turned-over furniture and piles of clothes – and it seemed likely that whoever had done this was the same person who’d removed the case files from the National Bureau of Investigation and searched through Ossian Kremph’s apartment the previous night.
But what were they searching for? The porcelain doll?
He went through to the living room. From the light in the chandelier, he could tell that this room also looked like a minor battlefield. He went over to the couch, set it back in place and put the cushions on top. Then he sank down and looked out over the devastation, surprised that he and Sonja actually had enough belongings to create such massive chaos.
He didn’t hear anything, but he felt the faintest change in the air pressure. Fabian looked up and rolled over behind the back of the couch in a single movement.
Now he could hear them. They were in the hall and on their way into the living room. So they had come back. He quickly went through his options, before deciding that he didn’t have any other than confrontation. This time he didn’t intend to let them get away.
‘Holy fucking shit, this place looks—’ one of them exclaimed.
Fabian recognized both the voice and the expression. But only after hearing the other person’s voice did it all fall into place – and he was properly confused.
‘Yeah, this is probably how your place looks.’
Fabian stood up. ‘Excuse me, but may I ask what the hell you’re doing in my apartment?’
Tomas turned around with a start and aimed his gun at Fabian.
‘Take it easy, dammit. Can’t you see it’s Fabian.’ Jarmo pushed down Tomas’ arms.
‘Yes, I see that now. Sorry. What the hell happened here? This place looks like…’
‘That’s exactly what I’m wondering, too.’ Fabian walked over to the two of them. ‘Apparently someone thinks I have something of value. I just don’t understand what that would be. They’ve
already confiscated the whole investigation from the Bureau.’
Tomas and Jarmo looked at each other. ‘What investigation are you referring to?’ asked Jarmo after a short silence.
Fabian was about to answer, but stopped himself. ‘How about you tell me what you’re doing here first? From what I can see it’s not to wish me a Merry Christmas.’
Tomas and Jarmo exchanged another glance and nodded in silent agreement. They turned back to Fabian in unison, as if they’d been rehearsing in front of a mirror.
‘We’re here because we wanted to see you,’ said Jarmo.
‘Outside regular work hours,’ Tomas added, pushing his pistol into the shoulder holster.
‘It’s about the Grimås and Fischer investigations.’
‘And Semira Ackerman.’
‘Semira Ackerman?’ Fabian repeated.
‘Yes, that woman on the bus who—’
‘I know who she is,’ Fabian interrupted.
‘We don’t think it was a drowning accident at all,’ Jarmo explained.
‘Or that Kremph was behind the murders,’ Tomas continued.
First himself, then Malin. And now even Tomas and Jarmo.
‘On what grounds?’
‘If you go through the investigation from start to finish there are any number of threads that don’t hang together,’ said Tomas.
Fabian nodded dejectedly. ‘Which explains why it’s missing.’
‘It so happens that it’s not too far out of reach.’
‘What do you mean, do you know who took it?’
Tomas nodded with a satisfied smile. ‘Maybe you’d like to give us a helping hand?’
83
SOMEONE STARTED A DANISH drinking song and everyone raised their glass – even Dunja. She took only one sip before setting it down again, though. She’d already had too much, and if she was going to have the slightest chance of getting Sleizner where she wanted him she couldn’t have one more drop. In any event, the dress had done its job and put him in a good mood again after their quarrel on Sunday.
‘You’re not fooling me.’ Sleizner focused his gaze on her full schnapps glass. ‘Around this table only one thing counts and that’s bottoms up.’
‘And here I thought we were going to control ourselves this year. Wasn’t that why you moved it to a Monday?’ said Dunja, forcing a smile.
‘Listen, I was against that silliness from day one. I mean, come on, a Christmas party on a Monday? What the hell kind of idea is that? You’d almost start to suspect we’ve been occupied by Sweden.’ Sleizner burst out laughing. ‘Let’s go show them who runs the show.’ He filled his glass and raised it.
‘Kim, I really shouldn’t have—’
‘Okay, let me make it a little simpler: in my role as your boss, I hereby order you to empty the contents of your glass.’
Dunja realized that she had no choice and gulped the cold alcohol, which burned all the way down her throat. The evening was about to slip out of her hands and she hadn’t had a single opportunity to bring up the question of reopening the investigation without seeming too forced. Soon it would be too late.
‘That wasn’t so bad, now, was it? I’ll fill her back up.’ He replenished the glass to the point that it was almost spilling over.
‘Kim, there’s something I have to talk to you about.’
‘Absolutely. No problem.’
‘It’s about the investigation.’
‘You should know just how incredibly impressed I am with its quick resolution – not to mention proud. Not every police officer has that instinct, or whatever it is, in them, dammit. But you’re clearly one of the few. Just jumped right in and – boom! –it’s solved! It’s unbelievable.’
‘And that’s just what I wanted to talk to you about. My instinct tells me that we should—’
‘It’s not just my department that’s talking about you.’ Sleizner chugged back some beer. ‘I’ve taken the word higher up in the building, and believe me, if you continue like this you’ll be going places. If I don’t keep my eyes open, it’ll be you pulling on the strings soon. Cheers.’ He said, as he raised his schnapps glass. To avoid yet another kerfuffle about how important it was to keep drinking, Dunja drained hers too.
‘Kim, I’m aware that the DNA analysis points towards Willumsen, but at the same time I’m convinced it’s not him. There’s something that doesn’t add up.’
‘Dunja, come here.’ He motioned for her to move closer. ‘This is not something we should discuss here,’ he said, waving his index finger around.
‘No, I know. But I would need an okay from you to continue as soon as—’
Sleizner put his finger against her mouth. ‘There are too many curious ears here.’ He pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘Follow me. I know somewhere that’s a bit more private.’
Dunja stood up a little too quickly and had to support herself against the back of the chair until her balance returned.
‘Oh dear, do you need help?’ Sleizner offered his arm.
‘No, I’m okay,’ said Dunja, even though she had to concentrate on every step to ensure she didn’t trip on her way through the decorated room. The noise level attested to the fact that the majority had already forgotten that it was actually a Monday.
‘Okay, tell me. I’m all yours,’ said Sleizner, holding open the door to his office.
‘Actually, there’s not much to talk about,’ said Dunja, following Sleizner in. ‘I just want your okay to continue the investigation, preferably without Hesk. He’s been working against me ever since you let me lead the investigation.’ She waited for a reaction.
She should have seen it coming. She should have understood that this was what the entire preamble about competence and future had really been about. This was the price for getting her way.
Yet she was totally unprepared to feel his chapped lips against hers, so much so that it took her several seconds to sober up and realize what was about to happen. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him away from her.
Sleizner laughed and threw out his arms. ‘Dunja, I know you want to. We can keep on pretending and play the game a little longer, but anyone could see this from a mile away. What’s his name? Carsten? He must be giving you way too little – if any. Believe me, I see how you walk around and want nothing more than to be taken.’ He clenched his fist. ‘Every which way so that you feel like you’re alive. Am I right?’
He leaned towards her, so close that she could smell his alcohol-loaded breath. She should have screamed as loud as she could, clawed him on the face and kneed him, but she did none of those things. Instead, as if she was under hypnosis, she let him press her down on the leather couch and bring his hand higher and higher up under her dress.
‘And, I promise, you can be completely at ease,’ he continued. ‘Of course you’ll get to continue with the investigation, if that’s what you want.’ He licked her ear while his eager fingers searched under the edge of her panties. ‘As long as we have our little secret you can basically do whatever you want. Doesn’t that sound good?’
He kissed her again and pressed his fleshy tongue into her mouth. Suddenly the fluorescent lights in the ceiling turned on and spread their cold, revealing glow. Sleizner only had a second to turn around before Hesk was tearing him off the couch. ‘You fucking swine. You disgusting fucking swine!’
‘Jan, I know this must be awkward for you, but we happen to be two consenting adults who know exactly what we’re doing,’ said Sleizner, pulling a hand through his hair.
‘I doubt that, especially not after what she’s just been through.’
‘You can always ask her yourself.’
Hesk turned toward Dunja, who was straightening her dress. ‘Dunja, is that true? Do you want this?’
Dunja tried to meet Hesk’s gaze, but she couldn’t. Somewhere she understood that she ought to be relieved – a minute or two later and it would have been too late – but all she could feel was shame.
‘Dunja, j
ust so you know, I have no problem with reporting him at once.’ He picked up his phone and held it in front of him. ‘But it’s your call.’
She turned to Sleizner and looked him in the eyes. His gaze was not the least bit evasive or hesitant. Instead, behind the completely calm, expressionless face, she sensed a smile.
As if he already knew how she would answer.
84
‘OKAY. AND LISTEN, BY the way… Thanks.’
‘No problem.’
The call ended and the audio file was over. Malin Rehnberg had listened to the exchange between Herman Edelman and Carl-Eric Grimås so many times she’d lost count. But she didn’t feel finished with it yet. After the first listen she’d been surprised by how little new information emerged and mostly saw it as confirmation of everything she already knew. If Fabian’s theory was correct, they could simply be referring to Grimås’ illegally transplanted liver and the Israeli Embassy.
But after the second listen, she started feeling more doubtful, and after the third and fourth it was clear to her that there was a lot left to discover. She felt as if the call was built up in several layers, and the only way to go all the way into the core was by listening through it, over and over again, layer by layer.
The first thing she flagged was that they both seemed to know exactly what they were talking about, and how Grimås even sounded exhausted by the subject, while at the same time they were both totally unaware of what lay ahead. Most of their worry revolved around the consequences of the truth leaking out, and how the Minister for Justice would be forced to resign. The possibility that someone would kill Grimås and then open him up and empty out his inner organs was something they’d not even been close to fearing.
The second was about the leak, or that damned leak, as Grimås referred to it. In reality, it wasn’t a leak at all, but a perpetrator with a completely different agenda than gossiping to the press. But that wasn’t what piqued her interest. She set the marker on the time counter she had finally memorized, and pressed the computer’s space key.
The Ninth Grave Page 34