Buried Angels (25 page)

‘No babysitter today,’ she explained.

‘That’s okay. It’s good to see all of you,’ said Kjell, giving the children a friendly smile. ‘I think I’ve got some toys in a basket that you can play with while I have a talk with your mother.’

‘Toys?’ Their shyness evaporated, and Maja hurried after Kjell, eager to see the promised basket.

‘Here it is. Paper and crayons mostly,’ said Kjell, dumping the contents on to the floor.

‘I should warn you, you’re liable to end up with spots on the rug,’ said Erica. ‘They’re not very good about staying on the page.’

‘Do you honestly think a few spots will make any difference on this rug?’ said Kjell, sitting down at his desk.

Seeing the state of the rug, Erica realized he had a point.

‘I met John Holm yesterday,’ she said, sitting down in the visitor’s chair.

Kjell gave her a searching look.

‘What was your impression?’

‘Charming. But very dangerous.’

‘That pretty much sums him up. In his youth Holm belonged to one of the worst groups in the skinhead movement. That’s also where he met his wife.’

‘It’s a little hard picturing him with a shaved head.’ Erica turned to see what the kids were up to, but so far they were behaving perfectly.

‘Well, he’s certainly worked on his image. But in my opinion, those guys don’t change. They just get smarter with the years and learn how they ought to behave.’

‘Does he have a police record?’

‘No. He’s never been charged with anything, although he had a few close calls when he was younger. At the same time, I don’t believe for a minute that Holm’s views have changed one iota since those years when he participated in the skinhead demonstrations in Lund every November thirtieth. On the other hand, I can say with one hundred per cent confidence that it’s because of him that his party now has a seat in the Riksdag.’

‘Why is that?’

‘His first brilliant idea was to exploit the division that arose among various national socialist groups after the school fire in Uppsala.’

‘You mean when those three Nazis were convicted of the crime?’ said Erica, recalling the headlines in the papers from years ago.

‘Exactly. In addition to the splits within and between the various groups, there was suddenly huge interest from the media, and the police were keeping an eye on right-wing extremists. That’s when John Holm stepped in. He gathered the best brains from the different groups and suggested a collaboration, which resulted in the Friends of Sweden becoming the leading party. Since then he’s spent years cleaning up the party faithful, at least on the surface, and drumming in the message that their politics are a grass-roots phenomenon. They’ve positioned themselves as the workers’ party, the voice of the common man.’

‘But isn’t it hard to keep a party like that together? There must be a lot of extremists among the members.’

Kjell nodded. ‘True. Some people have deserted because they found Holm’s views too lightweight, and he’s been accused of betraying the old ideals. Apparently there’s an unspoken rule that prohibits open discussion of immigration policies. There are too many different opinions and that means there’s a risk of breaking up the party. Some are of the opinion that all immigrants should be put on the first available plane and sent back to their native countries, while at the other end of the spectrum there are those who argue that more stringent requirements should be levied against everyone who comes here.’

‘Which category does John Holm belong to?’ asked Erica, turning around to hush the twins, who were getting noisy.

‘Officially, the latter group, but unofficially …? Personally I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept a Nazi uniform hanging in his wardrobe.’

‘How did he end up in these circles?’

‘I did some more checking on his background after you phoned yesterday. I knew that Holm’s family were extremely wealthy; his father started an export company during the 1940s, and after the war he continued to expand. Business was booming – until 1976 …’ Kjell paused for effect, and Erica sat up straighter.

‘Yes?’ she said.

‘There was a scandal that rocked Stockholm’s upper echelons. John’s mother, Greta, left his father, Otto, for a Lebanese executive that Otto had done business with. It also emerged that Ibrahim Jaber – that was his name – had duped Otto out of most of his fortune. In late July 1976, deserted and destitute, Otto shot himself while sitting at his desk.’

‘What happened to Greta and John?’

‘Otto’s death was not the end of the tragedy. It turned out that Jaber already had a wife and children, and he’d never had any intention of marrying Greta. He simply took her money and abandoned her. Several months later, John Holm’s name appeared for the first time in connection with the National Socialists.

‘And his hatred hasn’t diminished,’ said Erica, reaching for her handbag. She took out the note and handed it to Kjell. ‘I found this in Holm’s house yesterday. I can’t read what it says, but maybe it’s important.’

He laughed. ‘Define what you mean by
found
.’

‘You sound exactly like Patrik,’ said Erica, smiling. ‘It was just lying there. I’m sure it’s only a scribbled note that nobody will ever miss.’

‘Let me see.’ Kjell put on his reading glasses, which he’d pushed up on his forehead. ‘Gimle,’ he read aloud, frowning.

‘Yes. What does that mean? I’ve never come across the word before. Is it an abbreviation of some sort?’

Kjell shook his head. ‘Gimle is what comes after Ragnarök, the end of the world in Nordic mythology. A sort of heaven or paradise. It’s a well-known concept and frequently used in neo-Nazi circles. It’s also the name of a cultural association. They claim not to be affiliated with any political party, but I have my doubts on that score. They’re certainly popular with both the Friends of Sweden and the Danish People’s Party.’

‘And what do they do?’

‘According to their literature, their aim is to revive nationalistic feelings and a shared identity through reviving old Swedish traditions, folk dancing, ancient Swedish poetry, relics of antiquity, and so on. All of which fits in with the purported goal of the Friends of Sweden to promote Swedish traditions.’

‘So Gimle might also be a reference to that association?’ She pointed at the paper.

‘It’s impossible to tell. It could mean anything. And it’s hard to know what these numbers signify: 1920211851612114. And then it says: 5 08 1400.’

Erica shrugged. ‘I haven’t a clue. I thought they might have been scribbled down in a hurry, the way you do when you’re on the phone.’

‘Could be,’ said Kjell. He waved the paper in the air. ‘Can I keep this?’

‘Sure, go ahead. I’ll just use my mobile to take a picture, in case I suddenly get a flash of inspiration and crack the code.’

‘Good idea.’ He pushed the paper across to her, and she took a picture. Then she knelt down on the rug and began tidying up after the children.

‘Do you have any idea what you’re going to do with that?’

‘No, not really. I might start by exploring a few archives, see if I can come up with more information.’

‘So you think it’s more than a phone doodle?’ she said.

‘It could be. In any case, it’s worth checking out.’

‘Keep me posted, and I’ll let you know if I find anything new.’ She began ushering the kids towards the hall.

‘Of course. We’ll keep in touch,’ Kjell said, reaching for the phone.

It was so typical. If Gösta arrived late, there was hell to pay, while Patrik could be gone half the morning and nobody raised an eyebrow. Erica had phoned last night and told Gösta about her visits to Ove Linder and John Holm. Now he was impatiently awaiting Patrik’s arrival so they could go see Leon. Sighing at the unfairness of life, he returned to studying the list on his desk.

A second later the phone rang and he grabbed the receiver.

‘Hello. Flygare here.’

‘Gösta,’ said Annika. ‘Torbjörn’s on the phone. The results of the blood analysis have come in. He’s asking for Patrik, but would you mind taking the call?’

‘Of course.’

Gösta listened carefully as he made detailed notes, even though he knew that Torbjörn would fax over a copy of his report. But the official reports were usually written in such convoluted language, and it was easier to understand the information when Torbjörn explained it.

The moment Gösta put down the phone there was a knock on the open door to his office.

‘Annika said that Torbjörn rang. What did he say?’ Patrik sounded eager to hear the news, although his expression was glum.

‘Is something wrong?’ asked Gösta without answering the question.

Patrik dropped heavily on to a chair. ‘I went to check up on Martin.’

‘How’s he doing?’

‘He’ll be taking a leave of absence for a while. Three weeks, to start with. Then we’ll see.’

‘Why?’ Gösta felt his concern rise. Though he sometimes gave his young colleague a hard time, he liked Martin Molin. Everyone liked Martin.

When Patrik told him what he knew about Pia’s condition, Gösta swallowed hard. The poor guy. And their little girl was only a couple of years old, and now she was going to lose her mother. He swallowed again and turned away, blinking frantically. He couldn’t sit here in his office blubbering.

‘The best thing we can do is to keep working,’ Patrik concluded. ‘What did Torbjörn say?’

Gösta discreetly wiped his eyes and cleared his throat before turning to the notes he’d written down.

‘The crime lab confirmed that it’s human blood. But it’s so old that they were unable to get any DNA results that could be compared with Ebba’s. And it’s not clear whether the blood came from more than one individual.’

‘Okay. That’s pretty much as I expected. What about the bullet?’

‘Torbjörn sent it to a weapons specialist yesterday. They ran a quick analysis, but unfortunately it’s not a match for any bullets used in other crimes.’

‘Well, it was worth a try,’ said Patrik.

‘Sure. Apart from that they could only confirm that it’s a nine millimetre bullet.’

‘Nine millimetres? That doesn’t exactly tell us much about the type of gun that was used.’ Patrik slumped on his chair.

‘No, but Torbjörn said there were clear grooves on the bullet, so his expert is going to examine it more closely to see if he can determine the type of gun used. And if we find the gun, then the bullet can be matched up with it.’

‘But first there’s that small detail of finding the gun.’ He looked at Gösta. ‘How thoroughly did you search the house and surroundings?’

‘You mean in 1974?’

Patrik nodded.

‘We did the best we could,’ said Gösta. ‘We were short-staffed, but we went over the island with a fine-tooth comb. If someone had tossed a gun somewhere, we would have found it.’

‘Most likely it’s at the bottom of the sea,’ said Patrik.

‘You’re probably right. By the way, I’ve started phoning the former pupils from the school, but no results yet. Quite a few didn’t answer the phone, but that’s not too surprising, since it’s the summer holiday.’

‘It’s good that you’ve made a start, at least,’ said Patrik, running a hand through his hair. ‘Make a note if there’s anyone who might warrant further attention, and maybe we can go see them in person.’

‘They’re scattered all over Sweden,’ said Gösta. ‘It’s going to require a hell of a lot of driving if we try to speak to them one on one.’

‘Let’s discuss it again once we know how many people we’re talking about.’ Patrik got up and headed for the door. ‘How about we drop by Leon Kreutz’s house after lunch? We’re lucky that he lives so close.’

‘Sure. Hopefully we’ll learn more than we did from the interview yesterday. Josef was as taciturn as he was back in 1974.’

‘It was like getting blood from a stone. And that Sebastian was a slippery character,’ said Patrik as he left the room.

Gösta’s hand hovered over the phone, preparing to tap in another number. He hated talking on the phone, and if it hadn’t been for Ebba, he would have tried to get out of it. At least he wouldn’t have to do the whole list, since Erica had promised to do some of it.

‘Gösta? Come here a minute.’ Patrick’s voice interrupted him.

Out in the corridor stood Tobias Stark. He had a grim expression on his face, and he was holding a plastic bag containing what appeared to be a postcard.

‘Tobias has something to show us,’ said Patrik.

‘I put it in a bag as soon as I could,’ said Tobias. ‘But I did touch it, so I might have ruined any prints.’

‘You did the right thing,’ Patrik said, wanting to reassure him.

Gösta peered through the plastic at the card. It was a typical card showing a yellow kitten on the front. He opened it and read the brief message.

‘What the hell?’ he exclaimed.

‘Apparently “G” is starting to show his true colours,’ said Patrik. ‘This can only be interpreted as a threat.’

There must have been some sort of misunderstanding, or else it was the fault of that awful woman. But Dagmar could help him. No matter what had happened, it would all work out as soon as they were together again.

She had left the girl in a pastry shop in town. She’d be fine there. If anyone asked her why she was all alone, she was to say that her mother had gone to the toilet.

Dagmar studied the building. It hadn’t been hard to find. After stopping a few people to ask for directions, she’d finally met a woman who was able to tell her how to get to Långbro Hospital. Now her biggest worry was working out how to slip inside. There were too many staff on duty at the main entrance for her to slip by unnoticed. She had considered introducing herself as Mrs Göring, but if Carin had already been here to visit, they’d see through her ploy, and she wouldn’t get another chance.

Cautiously, so as not to be seen by anyone looking out of the windows, Dagmar crept around to the back of the building. There she found what seemed to be an employee entrance. She watched for a while as women of various ages went in and out, all of them wearing starched uniforms. Some of them stopped by a cart to the right of the door and dropped in dirty laundry. That gave Dagmar an idea. Surreptitiously she approached the laundry cart, keeping one eye on the door in case anyone came out. But the door remained closed, and swiftly she rummaged through the contents of the cart. It was mostly sheets and tablecloths, but at the very bottom was a uniform identical to the ones the nurses had on. She pulled it out and slipped around the corner to put it on.