'That sounds fine,' said Martin Beck. 'Did you talk about anything else?'
'No, I don't think so.'
It was silent on the other end of the telephone for a while. Then she added: 'Yes, I asked him to write down the address and telephone number of the company for me so that I wouldn't have to look it up in the telephone book. He gave me a printed business card.'
'And then you left?'
'Yes, I couldn't stand around and chatter any longer but I took my time leaving. I had opened my coat and so forth. To show my tight sweater. Yes, by the way, I said that if they didn't get there with the bureau during the day, it didn't make any difference to me since I was almost always home at night waiting for someone to call. But he thought that the bureau would get there during the morning.'
'That's fine. Listen, we thought we'd have a rehearsal this evening. We are going to be at the Klara Police Station. Stenstrom will play Bengtsson and telephone you. You an swer, call me at Klara, and we'll come to your house and wait for Stenstrom. Do you follow me?'
'Yes, I understand. I'll telephone you as soon as Stenstrom has called. About what time?'
'I'm not going to tell you. You won't know what time Bengtsson will call.'
'No, you are right. And, Martin.'
'Yes.'
'He was actually charming in some way. Not at all unpleasant or snappy. Although it's certain that Roseanna McGraw must have thought so too.'
The day room in the Fourth District Station House at Regering Street was neat and proper although it offered very few possibilities for entertainment.
It was a quarter past eight and Martin Beck had read the evening paper twice, just about everything except the sport pages and the classified advertisements. For the past two hours Ahlberg and Kollberg had been playing chess, which obviously took away any desire they might have had to talk. Stenstrom was sleeping in a chair near the door with his mouth open. He could be excused because he had been working on another case the night before. Anyway, he was there to play the villain and didn't need to be on the alert.
At twenty minutes past eight Martin Beck went over to Stenstrom and poked him.
'Let's start now.'
Stenstrom got up, went over to the telephone, and dialed a number.
'Hi,' he said. 'Can I come over? Yes? Fine.'
Then he went back to his chair and fell asleep.
Martin Beck looked at the clock. Fifty seconds later the telephone rang. It was tied into a direct line and reserved for their use. No one else could use it
'This is Beck.'
'It's Sonja, hi He just called. He's coming in a half an hour.'
'I got it.'
He put down the phone.
'Now let's get started, boys.'
'You can just as well give up,' said Ahlberg across the chess board.
'Okay,' said Kollberg. 'One to nothing, in your favor.'
Stenstrom opened one eye.
'Which way shall I come from?'
'Any way you want to.'
They went down to the car which was parked in the police station's driveway. It was Kollberg's own car and he drove. When he swung out onto Regering Street he said: 'Can I be the one to stand in the closet?'
'Oh, no. That's Ahlberg's job.'
'Why?'
'Because he's the only one who can go into the house without the risk of being recognized.'
Sonja Hansson lived on Runeberg Street, three flights up in the house on the corner facing Eriksberg Square.
Kollberg parked between the Little Theater and Tegner Street. They separated. Martin Beck crossed the street, went into the shrubbery and hid himself in the shadow of Karl Staaff's statue. From there he had a fine view of her house and also of Eriksberg Square as well as of the most important parts of the surrounding streets. He saw Kollberg walk casually down the south side of Runeberg Street with exquisite nonchalance. Ahlberg determinedly held his course toward the front door, opened it, and went in, as if he were a tenant on his way home. Forty-five seconds from now Ahlberg would be in the apartment and Kollberg in his place in the arch under Eriksberg Street. Martin Beck pushed his stop watch and looked at the time. It had been exactly five minutes and ten seconds since he had hung up the telephone after his conversation with Sonja Hansson.
It was raw and he turned up his coat collar and mumbled threateningly at a drunk who tried to bum a cigarette from him.
Stenstrom had really done his best.
He arrived twelve minutes early and from a completely unexpected direction. He sneaked around the corner from the Eriksberg Park stairs and walked with a group of moviegoers. Martin Beck didn't see him until he slunk into the house.
Kollberg had also functioned satisfactorily because he and Martin Beck met in front of the door.
They went in together, unlocked the inner glass doors, and neither of them said anything.
Kollberg took the stairs. He was supposed to stand a half a flight below the apartment and not advance before he received the signal. Martin Beck tried to get the elevator down by pressing the button but it didn't come. He ran up the stairs and passed the surprised Kollberg on the second floor. The elevator was up on the third floor. Stenstrom had put it out of commission by not closing the inside door. Thus he had succeeded in ruining that part of the plan which had Martin Beck taking the elevator to the floor above the apartment and arriving at it from above.
It was still quiet in the apartment but Stenstrom must have depended upon speed, because after only thirty seconds they heard a muffled shriek and some noise. Martin Beck had his key ready and ten seconds later he was in Sonja Hansson's bedroom.
The girl sat on the bed. Stenstrom stood in the middle of the floor and yawned while Ahlberg held his right arm loosely against his back.
Martin Beck whistled and Kollberg thundered into the apartment like an express train. In his haste he knocked over the table in the hall. He hadn't had any doors to open.
Martin Beck rubbed his nose and looked at the girl.
'Good,' he said.
She had chosen the realistic style he had hoped for. She was barefoot and bare-legged and had on a thin, short-sleeved cotton robe which stopped just above her knees. He was sure that she didn't have anything on underneath.
'I'll put something else on and make some coffee,' she said.
They went into the other room. She came in almost immediately, dressed in sandals, jeans and a brown sweater. Ten minutes later the coffee was ready.
'My door key sticks,' said Ahlberg. 'I have to wiggle it like the devil.'
'That doesn't matter so much,' said Martin Beck. 'You won't ever be in as much of a hurry as we are.'
'I heard you on the stairs,' said Stenstrom. 'Just as she opened the door.'
'Rubber soles,' said Kollberg.
'Open it faster,' said Martin Beck.
'The key hole in the closet is great,' said Ahlberg. 'I saw you almost the entire time.'
'Take the key out next time,' said Stenstrom. 'I really wanted to lock you in.'
The telephone rang. They all stiffened.
The girl picked up the receiver.
'Yes, hello… hi… no, not tonight… well, I'm going to be busy for a while… have I met a man?… yes, you could say that.'
She hung up and met their glances.
