right outside the building. That’s why he’s allowed to use a spot in the parking garage, which is about a hundred meters down the street. Last Tuesday night he worked late, until five-fifteen. When he set off for home, he rushed toward the parking garage. That’s when he saw a light-colored car in the teachers’ parking area that he had never seen before. Since it was after school hours he decided not to worry about it. But he remembered it now, because the newspapers said that no one had seen anything unusual around that time. And that was unusual! Only the teachers can use these parking places until six at night. And he says that none of the teachers who usually park there has a light-colored car. He’s not sure of the exact color.”
“What make?”
“He doesn’t know. He was in a hurry in the pouring rain.”
Irene could see that Andersson thought this was interesting. But the three from Narcotics looked so obviously bored that it was probably best to switch over to their domain. Andersson noticed this too and wrapped up.
“Keep checking, Hans. You’re good at stuff with cars. Now we’ll move on to Billdal.”
Annika Nilsen nodded and immediately gave the floor to Stig Bertilsson. He started by telling them about the many years of work Narcotics had devoted to trying to chart the role of the motorcycle gangs in narcotics trafficking. It turned out that they had a surprisingly large share of the market. The small gangs didn’t deal drugs. On the other hand, the gangs associated with the Bandidos or Hell’s Angels did. And the membership of Hell’s Angels Death Squadron No. 1 were being watched most closely at the moment. All kinds of narcotics poured in through them from Denmark and Holland.
Irene began to formulate a vague idea about a connection to Bobo Torsson and Shorty. She broke in with a question. “How do these gangs distribute dope to buyers?”
“Most often through dealers. It’s not easy for a fat guy in leather on a big Harley to ride around selling dope to teenagers. He’s too visible, and the risk of getting caught is too great. No, they take large quantities and sell to middlemen, who then distribute it to the market.”
Irene nodded and said, “That sounds like Bobo Torsson. We know that he was dealing. And Shorty too, but we don’t have anything on him since he got out of prison. Do you know if he’s had any contact with this gang?”
Bertilsson shook his head. Andersson groaned out loud and everyone could hear him muttering, “We’re going to have to release that scumbag!”
Birgitta patted him lightly on the arm and said consolingly, “I think I’ll keep digging in the files. I’ll work on it this afternoon. If there’s any connection, that’s where it’ll be.”
“All right. Keep digging,” her boss sighed.
Irene leaned forward and patted Andersson on the other arm. She gave him an encouraging smile and said, “And you can ask Shorty if Bobo and Charlotte had a relationship. No doubt he won’t answer, but maybe you can read something from his reaction.”
“You mean a sexual relationship?”
“Yes.”
Andersson raised his eyebrows and nodded. He turned to his colleagues from Narcotics and explained, “This is the only point of contact between Bobo and the von Knecht family we’ve found. Do you have the slightest indication that Richard von Knecht or anyone else in the von Knecht family might be mixed up with drugs?”
Annika Nilsen cleared her throat and said in her toneless voice, “No. That name has never come up in our department, as far as I know. Have you ever seen it?” She turned to the two agents, who both shook their heads.
Birgitta said eagerly, “But we’ve found Charlotte’s name on a list from a raid in ninteen eighty-nine! She was single at the time and her last name was Croona.”
Stig Bertilsson looked crestfallen. “But I was in on that bust! Charlotte Croona! She was doing a striptease on the table, so there wasn’t much to search. For lack of anything better I had a good look at her necklace, a little carved cylinder. And when I unscrewed it there was snow inside. Freebase, not pure. That’s why she got off with a suspended sentence. When we got to the station she was almost psychotic. Hallucinating.”
He paused and grimaced at the memory. Then he went on, “I found out that she was a pretty well-known photo model, although there was never anything in the papers about her. But believe me, nobody who was there could forget Charlotte Croona!”
Andersson exclaimed, “And Bobo and Shorty were there too! It has to be Bobo and Charlotte who are the point of contact.”
The others agreed.
Irene sighed dejectedly. “We have to find proof! We’ve got nothing but assumptions and guesses.”
Andersson gave her an indulgent look and said, “That’s fairly normal for an investigation. We just have to find some evidence that will hold up.” He turned to Bertilsson. “What did you come up with in Billdal?”
Bertilsson shrugged. “Not much. Judging from the statements given by the neighbors along the road, the motorcycle guys were on the scene for three days. But no one ever saw more than two at a time. And no one suspected that they had broken into those two summer cabins. The gang had picked the locks. The only trace of drugs was a number of small plastic bags containing amphetamine. No hypodermics, but some paper towels with blood spots. Both places were a mess, and we found tons of fingerprints. Two pairs have been identified, belonging to Glenn ‘Hoffa’ Stromberg and Paul Svensson. Three pairs aren’t in the records. One of them is so small that we assume it’s from the girl. We haven’t managed to identify her. We sent the other two sets to Interpol. We suspect the police in Holland may have those prints in their archives. Death Squadron had a visit from an Amsterdam club all last weekend and the beginning of this week. They came up via Malmo last Thursday. Twelve of them thundering up the coast of Halland. We followed them. Or at least we tried. They split up and stayed with various gang members. Yesterday they went back to Holland.”
Andersson was frowning anxiously when he asked, “But how did Bobo, and possibly also Shorty, come in contact with the Hell’s Angels? Shorty vehemently denies knowing Hoffa.”
The investigators from Narcotics merely shrugged.
After a bit more discussion they decided to adjourn.
IRENE GOT a lift with one of the patrol officers and was dropped off at St. Sigfridsgatan. She brought along a sandwich and a light beer from the cafeteria for Tommy. He had moved the car, but she saw it, quickly walked over, opened the door, and climbed in.
“Hi. I brought you some chow. Anything happening?” she asked.
“Not a thing. I went off to take a leak an hour ago. I was gone ten minutes max. But nothing happened during that time. The Golf is still there, the blinds are closed. Man, stakeouts are sure boring!”
He unwrapped the sandwich from the plastic and opened the beer. It was already dark, and it was starting to get cold in the car.
Irene looked around. “Hey, maybe we should move. The old lady in the house across the street has peeked at us several times from behind her curtains. She probably thinks we’re up to no good. Let’s switch places, then you can keep eating.”
She got out of the car and Tommy slid over to the passenger’s side.
Suddenly a light showed behind the closed blinds on the top floor of Charlotte’s house. After a few minutes a lamp was turned on downstairs. It was probably the hall lamp, because behind the curtains in the bay window of the living room it was still dark. They waited tensely, but nothing else happened. It was time to move the car; the neighbor lady was getting suspicious.
They drove off and parked on Fortroligheten. Irene stuck her arm under Tommy’s and they slowly strolled back up Langasliden. They talked softly as they walked.
Tommy asked, “Is Jenny going to the Karl the Twelfth demonstrations tonight? Or rather riots, in the worst case.”
“No, she’s never been that interested in going. That was a real eye-opener you gave her last night. She never really understood before that joining up with a group like that also meant that she might have to do things she didn’t like or want to do.”
“But what if her boyfriend demands that she come along?”
Irene hesitated. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. But Krister says that we need to trust her judgment. She’s a smart girl, but a little lost; she’s had a hard time finding a real best friend. She has Katarina, of course, but they fight all the time, except when Krister or I say something to one of them. Then they gang up on us and stick
