by Jens Lapidus
“Well, that’s great. So, did you buy more tickets?”
“No. We went out for dinner in Robertsfors.”
The story made JW happy. As far as he knew, they hadn’t gone out to eat, not even to Robertsfors’s only decent restaurant, since Camilla’d disappeared.
“Mom, there’s something I want to tell you.”
Margareta was silent. Could tell by JW’s voice what it was about.
“The police have new information about Camilla.”
He heard her breathing on the other end of the line.
He kept talking. Told her the whole Jan Brunéus story. When he was finished, Margareta asked how he knew.
He avoided answering.
“Mom, you have to call the police. I know you don’t like doing it, but you have to. Find out if they know anything else. Put pressure on them to keep the investigation open. We have the right to know what happened.”
“I can’t do it. Dad’ll have to call.”
JW spoke to Bengt. His dad was in a bad mood. JW explained again. It was as if his father didn’t want to understand. He asked stupid questions. “Why did she cut so many classes? She must’ve known that bad attendance would mean lower grades.”
The frustration grew. Finally, JW almost yelled, “If you don’t call the police, I won’t talk to you anymore!”
An ugly threat. Low. But what was he supposed to do?
He apologized.
Bengt promised to call the police.
JW sat on the bed in his beautiful new apartment. He pulled his legs up and hugged them to his chest.
Thought about calling Sophie. Telling her everything about his parents. About Camilla.
No, he couldn’t do it.
The next day, he busied himself with the regular: Abdulkarim’s project, the C business, expansion plans, the collaboration with Jorge. Preparations with Abdulkarim and Jorge for the big C delivery. The Arab’d deliberately dried up the market. Wanted to press up the prices before the shipment’s arrival. It meant more time to study for JW, which he needed. He leaked information to Nenad like a sieve. Called him a few times a week with reports. It was starting to feel normal.
And then, on a day in June, the message arrived: The cabbages in England’d finished growing. They were big and dense enough. In a week, they would arrive, packed in containers.
JW and Abdulkarim’d contracted a real transportation company, Schenker Vegetables, Ltd. They’d booked storage spaces around town where the shit would be stored, conferred with the Brits about price guarantees and quality control, made sure the right drivers handled the load. Organized and planned to the max.
Soon they’d flood Stockholm’s boroughs with massive quantities of C.
JW and Jorge’d calculated, contemplated. Organized the dealers in accordance with the new quantities that would be available.
The early summer air was thick with excitement.
Within a few months, if all went according to plan, JW would be a multimillionaire.
* * *
LINDSKOG MALMSTRÖM LAW FIRM
BANKRUPTCY ESTATE INVENTORY DEED
A. GENERAL INFORMATION
DEBTORS
Stockholm’s Video Specialist, Ltd., 556987-2265
The Video Buddy, Ltd., 55655-6897
Registered location: Stockholm
Registered Representatives
Member of the Board Christer Lindberg
Ekholmsvägen 35
127 48 SKÄRHOLMEN
Deputy Eva Gröberg (deceased)
Portholmsgången 47
127 48 SKÄRHOLMEN
ACCOUNTANT
Mikhael Stoianovic
SHARE CAPITAL
100,000 kronor
DAY OF INSOLVENCY
June 10 of this year
BANKRUPTCY ADMINISTRATOR
Göran Grundberg
B. OVERVIEW OF ASSETS AND LIABILITIES
The bankruptcy estate inventory deed shows the following:
ASSETS
(Primarily assets from cash registers, inventories, and current assets in the form of VHS and DVD films)
11,124.00
LIABILITIES
Prioritized debts (tax claims) 174,612.00
FLR § 11
Nonprioritized debts 43,268.00
Estate’s deficit 206,756.00
The estate inventory has been approved by the company’s registered representative.
C. INTRODUCTION
GENERAL
Since a while back, I have been investigating a number of companies that are suspected of being a part of a so-called money-laundering scheme. The debtors in question, Stockholm Video Specialist, Ltd. (referred to below as Video Specialist), and the Video Buddy, Ltd. (referred to below as Video Buddy), are suspected of being a part of a group of companies with connection to the so-called Yugoslavian Mafia in Stockholm. Other companies included in the same sphere are Clara’s Kitchen & Bar, Ltd., Diamond Catering, Ltd., and the Demolition Experts in Nälsta, Ltd. The companies are involved in varying fields of business, but the so-called shadow owners are probably the same.
DEBTORS
Christer Lindberg acquired Video Specialist in September of last year from Ali Köyglu, who previously operated a dry-cleaning business on the premises. According to Christer Lindberg, the purchase price was 130,000 kronor. We have been unable to confirm that figure with Ali Köyglu. Christer Lindberg acquired Video Buddy in the course of the same month from Öz Izdan, who previously operated a video-rental business on the premises, under the company name Karlaplans Video, Ltd. Christer Lindberg has informed us that he is unable to recall the purchase price. Öz Izdan has refused to answer questions regarding the sale. According to Christer Lindberg, no written documents were drawn up over the sale.
Christer Lindberg has not been active as director. He has had nothing to do with the accounts, nor played an active part in the decision-making process of the companies in question.
BACKGROUND AND DATE OF COMPANIES’ INSOLVENCY
The debt largely constitutes tax liabilities. The companies have probably been run in order to launder money for the shadow owners. Secret accounts have been kept, which reveal that the companies’ actual proceeds amount to the following (average numbers calculated based on the first six months of operation): Video Specialist, 52,017 kronor; Video Buddy, 46,122 kronor. The figures reported to the tax authorities between November and March of the current year show heavily inflated profits for both companies. This money has not been derived through the revenues of the companies’ business.
In April of this year, tax payments were reduced markedly and appear to have become based on the companies’ actual profits. Tax authorities made estimated assessments based on the previous fiscal year; in other words, based on the fictive profits. Insolvency is therefore caused by a lack of funds to pay existing tax liabilities. The date of insolvency for both companies has been fixed for the end of May.
BANKRUPTCY, ETC.
On May 11 of this year, the Enforcement Authority requested that the companies be declared bankrupt. The district court decided to declare the companies bankrupt on May 12. Christer Lindberg had no objection to the decision. He has been called to a creditor’s meetings on several occasions. He has not appeared voluntarily. On June 12, the district court ruled that the debtor be collected by the police, at which point Christer Lindberg made an appearance. He testified under oath that he was unaware that parts of the companies’ reported income did not derive from the video-rental business.
ALLEGED CRIME
The undersigned is of the view that Christer Lindberg has acted as a so-called straw man for the companies. He has had no insight into operations but, rather, has served solely as the physical person liable for the companies’ business on paper. The tax authorities have filed a notice of suspected crime with the Economic Crime Authority and an investigation has begun. The bankruptcy investigation has been carried out in cooperation with the Economic Crime Authority and the National
Tax Agency.
Göran Grundberg
53
Summer break’d begun one week ago. His daughter was finally in a safe place-Lovisa and Annika were in Spain for three weeks. Mrado covered costs. A vacation cottage in Bergshamra was also rented, fifteen minutes south of Norrtälje. Genuine feel to the place, red-painted timber walls with white borders. Big lawn for Lovisa to practice her cartwheels on. And cunt Annika and her friends could enjoy themselves any way they liked-play croquet, kubb, badminton. Practically paradise.
Mrado hoped they’d keep clear of Gröndal as much as possible.
It oughta work. The cottage was well equipped. There was a washing machine, a dishwasher, a TV, and a DVD player. Lovisa and Annika would have a relaxing summer far from the city. It was a temporary solution, but perfect for the present.
As for himself, Mrado felt pretty safe. It’d been more than two months since he’d gotten a new apartment. Installed an alarm system. Bought a new car. Got a PO box address, stopped working out at Fitness Club, switched cell phones.
Contracted Ratko as a bodyguard: His old squire was hired to stay close to Mrado at sensitive times. Discover any eventual R. honchos before they had time to act. Screen swarms of lead with his bulletproof vest. Ratko charged a killing, but it was worth it. The important thing was to create the impression for Radovan that Mrado was well protected and that he played in the same league as Mr. R.
Mrado’d looked into whom he could trust. They were informed: Ratko, Bobban, a few guys from the gym. Within a few days, Mrado and Nenad were gonna go live. Show Radovan their version of the term Serbian solidarity.
Risk of confrontation. Risk of brutal clash. Risk of injuries.
But Mrado was confident: When the big C load’d been lifted, he and Nenad were gonna be the new rulers.
The market division pretty much worked perfectly. The HA and the Bandidos MC’d buried the hatchet. That alone was a feat from Mrado’s end. The Bandidos’d let go of parts of their cocaine market in the inner city and all of their coat-check blackmailing business. Instead, they’d increased the protection racket in the southern boroughs. The HA jacked up booze smuggling in all of middle Sweden but reduced their protection racket in Stockholm. The Original Gangsters kept at the CIT heists. Cut down on blow biz in the projects. Sold heavy in the northern boroughs. The only ones who didn’t give a fuck were Naser’s gang-difficult to influence.
On the whole, though, the groups were able to concentrate. Focus. Develop new areas. Increase the margins. Increase the profits. Above all, they could keep clear of the Nova Project’s infiltrators.
After Mrado’s demotion and the problem with the video rental stores, his insomnia took on absurd proportions. He popped pills like a kid ate penny candy. It wasn’t okay. He hoped it’d get better once they took on Radovan.
Three fat losses on his tax return. Over 200,000 kronor total.
The solution: He’d sacrifice the companies. The fall guy, Christer Lindberg, the super-Sven, would take the hit. That’s what he was paid to do.
And nothing could be traced back to Mrado.
The problem that couldn’t be solved was that Mrado needed more clean cash to finance Lovisa’s protection in the future. The possibility of buying a new apartment for her and Annika topped the list.
He considered Nenad’s idea: Use the laundry genius, their guy JW. Apparently, the brat wannabe’d built beautiful solutions for big-load laundry. That’d be necessary after they’d flipped the massive steal, in any case.
Mrado and Nenad were in intense-planning mode. Two days left until they were gonna present their defection to the Yugo boss.
Why do it before the arrival of the C shipment? Wasn’t that unnecessary? Mrado’d discussed the matter with Nenad-there was no other way. It was the Serbian way: Let your enemy know he’s your enemy. Mrado and Nenad were gonna play this straight.
Besides, Abdulkarim’d been told ages ago that Rado’d cut Nenad off from the C biz. The Arab’d also been informed about who his real boss was. He’d probably suspected it for a while. The Arab fucker apparently sided with R. Refused even to talk to Nenad, which sent an obvious signal: You’re a loser. I’m on my way up. In other words, it didn’t matter if Radovan knew that Nenad was going his own way. Nenad’d officially not been given any information for the past three months. Rado and Abdulkarim thought he was out of the running. Their mistake: They had no clue about the leak in their pipes-the JW guy.
The shipment was due at the Arlanda Airport on June 23, in six days.
Mrado and Nenad’s plan was simple. JW managed everything. Two trucks from Schenker Vegetables were set to pick up the containers. JW’d talked to the teamsters who were driving. They knew the final destination for the containers-not a grocery-store warehouse, but the Västberga Cold Storage Center. JW and a couple of Abdulkarim’s other guys were gonna guard the load all the way from Arlanda. The truckers would drop the gear off at the cold-storage facility. Abdulkarim plus honchos would pick up the coke cabbage. And that’s where Mrado and Nenad came in. JW’d described everything he knew. The guy was gonna wait in the cold storage facility. Make sure Mrado and Nenad made it inside. After that, it was their job to overpower everyone-probably Abdulkarim and his constant companion, Fahdi, plus the guys who’d helped guard the truck transport. When it came to the JW guy, they’d have to pull a feint. Probably just take him down and tape him up, something like that. If they needed to use heat, no problem.
Mrado looked forward to the attack.
It was showtime-to present Radovan with the fact that he was enemy number one. Mrado and Nenad met up outside Ringen’s mall as usual. It was midnight. They took Mrado’s new car, a Porsche Carrera. Looked funny-Mrado had to fold himself in half to slide in behind the wheel. Nenad climbed into the passenger seat.
He drove toward Näsbypark, Radovan’s home. They were arriving unannounced.
Mrado felt naked without Ratko.
Nenad and he were constantly discussing what was on their minds.
Nenad’d just talked to JW: “We’re all set to go, but there’s a risk that Rado’ll get cold feet after what we’re about to tell him. Choose to reroute the shipment somewhat. Not much we can do about that except be flexible.”
Mrado was massaging the knuckles on one hand, driving in silence.
Nenad said, “Why’re you so quiet? We’re not going some fucking funeral. This is a big day. New Year’s Eve.”
“Nenad, you’re my friend. You know me. I’ve worked for Radovan for over ten years. Before that, it was him and me under Jokso. I fought in the same platoon as Radovan. Lived in the same bunker outside Srebrenica for five weeks under massive fire. Today I’m gonna present him with my betrayal. You think I’m happy?”
“I understand. But you didn’t start this. Radovan humiliated you first. Without reason. That’s not how you treat a brother in arms. After all we’ve done for him. All those years, sacrifices, risks.”
“He hasn’t treated me like a brother in arms.”
“Exactly. He hasn’t treated you with the dignity you deserve. My grandfather told me a story from the war, the Second World War, I mean. Did I tell you the one about the fast?”
Mrado shook his head.
“Granddad fought with the partisans. In the winter of 1942, he was taken prisoner by Ustaša. Sent to a German POW camp outside Kragujevac. Conditions were miserable. They didn’t get any food, were beaten every day, didn’t see their families. They suffered from diseases-pneumonia, typhus, and tuberculosis. Dropped like flies. But Granddad was tough. Refused to give up. Spring came and Easter was approaching. Granddad and a couple of other prisoners decided to celebrate Easter the proper way. You know, Serbian Orthodox, with a fast. They worked in some kind of tire factory. From seven in the morning until midnight, with a little meal in the middle of the day, usually. A German prison guard found out they were fasting and weren’t eating meat, eggs, or milk that day in order to remember the suffering of Jesus. He sought out the camp warde
n and got permission to order extra food. On the floor, inside the factory where Granddad was working as a slave, the guard set out a feast-ham, sausages, pork chops, liver, fish, cheese, eggs. Granddad was skeletal and starved even before the fast. He was, like, suffering from scurvy, was losing teeth like a six-year-old. The guard yelled at them, ‘Whoever eats doesn’t have to work all week.’ Imagine the temptation, to get to eat themselves full for once. Get to rest. But they’d promised to uphold the Orthodox fast. The guard tried to drag them to the table and force them to eat. One man was too weak to fight. The guard wrestled him to the ground. Pinned his hands back somehow and forced his mouth open. That’s when Granddad intervened. He hit the German over the head with an iron rod.”
Mrado interrupted Nenad’s tale. “Well done.”
“Yes, the guard collapsed. As a kid, I always asked Granddad how he’d dared. Know what he said?”
“No. I haven’t heard this story before.”
“This is what he said: ‘I’m not a believer, and I’m not religious. But dignity, Nenad, Serbian dignity. The guard was stepping on that man’s honor and therefore also on mine. I didn’t do it for Jesus; I did it for honor.’ He had to pay, Granddad, for what he’d done. I remember how his arms were crooked when I was little. But nothing could bother him. He knew he had his dignity intact.”
Mrado understood. Knew Nenad was right. Dignity trumped everything. Radovan’d stepped on Mrado.
Mrado had to retaliate.
There was no way back.
They were heading into war.
Only one of them could emerge victorious.
Mrado checked a final time. The gun was in his inner pocket.
They passed Djursholm. Almost there.
Näsbypark was as peaceful as ever.
He parked the Porsche far from Radovan’s house.