Anger Mode (16 page)

Accordingly, the coded message was “Café of the week: Vete-Katten, Kungsgatan 55” and “Event of the week: Poetry reading with Michael Rhenberg in ABF Building, Sveavägen 41, 18 November at 8:30 pm.” The meeting place would therefore be Vete-Katten at eight-thirty tonight. Jörgen considered the system foolproof and was satisfied with the way it worked.

He wondered if his informant would show up tonight. The Swallow tactic had been ingenious and he had felt confident that it would last for many years. For the first time, he felt disheartened.

C
HAPTER 12

AT SEVEN-THIRTY ON Monday morning, Chief Prosecutor Åsa Julén first got hold of the Director-General of the National Courts Administration, Margareta Fors.

Margareta Fors had landed at Arlanda airport after a long and tiring flight from Los Angeles. One week at a conference that she just as easily could have done without and her mood was at an all-time low. On top of that had been a shock that remained in the body like a stubborn cold. They had hit severe turbulence over Greenland, and the ninety-tonne jet had flown like a paper plane at ten thousand metres. After one hour, the sporadic shaking had stopped. She herself was not particularly afraid of flying, but it was only when the cabin crew became pale-faced that she had felt anxiety creep over her. She never usually panicked, but she was seriously preoccupied by the prospect of not landing in one piece.

After that incident, it had been quite impossible for her to sleep during the remainder of the trip, even though she was behind on her sleep. She knew very well that she could not influence the situation in which she found herself, with a useless seat belt around her stomach. She was at high altitude and completely in the hands of others. Yet she had been so damn scared.

Margareta first turned on her mobile phone when she sat in the taxi driving home to Östermalmsgatan. Before she could finish punching in her home number, the phone rang. She looked at the display, which showed an ex-directory number. In a weary voice, she answered.

Earlier that morning, Åsa Julén had spoken with the Minister for Justice and the National Chief of Police, who had already been updated with the details of the Lantz and Ekwall cases on Sunday evening. The Sjöstrand case was being tossed around by the press already, so they knew about her. Åsa was anxious to get hold of the Director-General to give her the latest news. Both woman bureaucrats had known each other since their university days, but saw each other more seldom nowadays. Work and family took up most of their time.

“I apologize for the early telephone call,” Åsa began. “But I need to inform you about a few things.”

Margareta answered hesitantly. “I see.”

“The Minister for Justice and the National Chief of Police have already been informed,” Åsa continued.

The manner in which Julén started the conversation and the tone of her voice did not bode well. Neither did the fact that she called so early in the morning. If the Minister and the National Chief of Police had already been informed by the Prosecutor’s Office, it had to be something serious.

The first thing that occurred to Margareta was another Anna Lindh type of murder – that a cabinet minister had been murdered by a random loony. The mental health reform that allowed severely sick psychiatric patients to self-medicate had infuriated many within the judicial system. The number of maniacs walking the streets was steadily increasing. This was all attributable to weak and inconsistent legislation from the politicians, as well as the constant cutbacks. Those ticking timebombs were walking among ordinary people, just to provide treatment that was more humane and less costly to society. Who would pay the price for its failure? The sick, who needed psychiatric care, or somebody who just happened to get in their way and paid with a life? Margareta felt anger building within her as she speculated.

“Carry on,” she said in a cold voice.

District Prosecutor Lennart Ekwall has confessed to murdering his wife,” Åsa said.

At first, Margareta did not believe what she had heard. “Can you repeat that?” she asked.

“He has admitted during a police interview that he killed his wife with a golf club in their home. But that’s not all,” Åsa said.

That a district prosecutor had killed his wife was a catastrophe for the reputation of the justice system in the country. This much, Margareta understood. But how did this involve the National Courts Administration? This was really a problem for the Prosecutor’s Office.

“As you know, Judge Bror Lantz of Stockholm District Court was involved in a car accident with a fatal outcome,” Åsa continued.

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Margareta answered. “But that was an accident.”

“There’s reason to believe that he is guilty of manslaughter by strangulation of the taxi driver. In actual fact, most of the evidence indicates that this is the case. We just can’t prove it. And there’s no motive.”

Margareta felt an icy chill spread through her body. “What’s going on?” she exclaimed. “Are people going crazy? Isn’t it enough that Karin Sjöstrand killed her own daughter?”

“We have a credibility crisis brewing and there’s a risk of panic spreading among staff in the courts system,” Åsa explained. “For the time being, the media don’t know about Ekwall and Lantz. They’re content with Sjöstrand right now; I couldn’t cover that up. It was just a matter of time before it leaked out because there was an eyewitness in the stairwell, which the media had managed to uncover. For Lantz and Ekwall, it looks better. The Lantz case is still classified as an accident and will stay that way. Ekwall has no witnesses.”

“Cover up,” Margareta Fors repeated. She did not understand what Åsa meant – or if she wanted to understand.

“The Security Service have taken over the investigation, since it may involve sabotage by poisoning or drugging officials within the justice system,” Åsa said.

Margareta took a deep breath and looked listlessly through the car window. The closer they got to the city limits, the thicker the traffic became. She did not have the energy to analyse the consequences of these events just now. The trip had been quite exhausting and she needed sleep, a lot of sleep, before she could focus. If she could just rest, she would be able to tackle the problems the next day.

She wrapped up the conversation with Åsa so that she could call her husband. She felt the knot in her stomach turn into something uncontrollable. For the first time in a long while, she started to cry.

THERE WAS NO weekend overtime or on-call duty for Walter. After writing his memo, he went to Karolinska University Hospital for a consultation with a specialist about his increasingly frequent dizzy spells. After only three questions, the doctor arranged for Walter to be admitted and sent to radiology.

Once his cranium had been x-rayed and the doctor had studied the x-rays, Walter sent two text messages, one to Jonna, in which he briefly informed her that the next day’s meeting was postponed, and one to David Lilja, in which he described in more detail the reason why he would not be able to work for a while. Walter turned his mobile phone off and lay down in the hospital bed. If the worst should happen, his life had been quite pleasant until now.

Or was life really that pleasant? After Martine’s death, his life had mostly been about moving on.

COUNTY POLICE COMMISSIONER Folke Uddestad was the last to enter the conference room. It was nine minutes past nine on Monday morning by the time Chief Prosecutor Åsa Julén addressed those attending.

“Can we have an update on the situation?” she opened the meeting impatiently.

“Before we start, I just want to inform you that Walter Gröhn can’t be here,” interrupted David Lilja, apologizing. “He has recently been admitted to hospital.”

There was a brief pause.

“That’s unfortunate news,” Uddestad said, without seeming very interested. He cleared his throat. “Yesterday some surveillance and investigative work was done by the duty officers at the Drug Squad and SÄPO,” he began. “So far, none of the dealers or suppliers has heard anything about a new type of drug on the market. However, today is the first day that significant operations will take place, so it’s too early to draw any conclusions. The Drug Squad will shortly mobilize large numbers of staff. With such a massive operation being launched, we’ll most probably be able to establish where Drug-X is coming from. SÄPO also has a lead that’s probably the most solid one at present. It concerns, among other things, a suspected terrorist cell, based in Sweden, which doesn’t have a huge respect for our country. What makes them particularly interesting is that they specifically denounce Swedish laws and courts.”

Uddestad handed the audience over to Martin Borg, a team leader in the Security Service’s Counter-Terrorism Unit. He had a muscular build and penetrating, steel-grey eyes. His hair was crew cut and he wore a dark suit, which hung well on his frame.

“At the Counter-Terrorism Unit, we have, for some time, been following an Islamic group, known as Wahhabists, whose goal is to turn Sweden into an Islamic state and to introduce Sharia law,” he started stiffly. “For those of you not familiar with Wahhabism and Sharia, Saudi Arabia is an example of a country where these strict religious laws are implemented and also where the majority of Wahhabi followers are. And I think we’re all familiar with conditions in Saudi Arabia.” Everybody nodded in agreement.

Martin gave a wry smile when he saw how his colleagues from the local police pretended to be well informed on the subject.

“Women are dressed in sheets like ghosts and are severely oppressed by men,” Martin continued and watched both of the women in the room. Neither Åsa Julén nor Jonna de Brugge raised an eyebrow. So naive. Without people like me around, they would soon be forced to wear the burka, he thought.

“We estimate that there are about twenty people in total in this group, of which there is a fanatical hardcore of ten bearded men in nightshirts, who have their base in a flat in central Stockholm,” Martin said.

Jonna grinned when the word nightshirt was used, but she got an admonishing stare from Julén.

“The group also has a motley bunch of followers, who are a few hundred in number, mostly young, unemployed men from immigrant housing estates with roots in the Middle East. They have very strong financial links with high-level contacts in Saudi Arabia. That’s also where you find most of the followers of Wahhabism, which is a fundamentalist movement within Islam. We believe that we have enough evidence to justify a raid on the group. If the Prosecutor’s Office gives us the green light, then we can hit them as early as tomorrow. The National SWAT team is ready to go.”

A tense silence filled the room. Martin adjusted his tie and sat in the chair to the side of the whiteboard. He looked over the company in the room. They were a sorry bunch. He had, however, not expected better. They were like the general population: naive and simple-minded, completely oblivious to the battle that was going to involve them all. The entire Western civilization would fall into an Islamic dark age if nothing was done. In medieval times, Muslims had tried to subvert European culture, but Europeans had a short memory. Now Muslims were flooding the refugee centres, cheered on by idealists who wanted to consign the continent to the abyss. The sight of the sheepish faces around the table only strengthened his conviction that he was doing the right thing.

All eyes were now on Chief Prosecutor Åsa Julén.

“You say that they reject our laws and courts,” she deliberated. “Can you explain that further?”

“Of course,” Martin answered without standing up. “The group has the aim of turning Sweden into an Islamic state. They’re financed by Prince Hatim al-Amri, one of several thousand princes in Saudi Arabia, who has considerable resources at his disposal. The prince finances resistance groups in Iraq and Afghanistan and is known as a loyal Wahhabist and opponent to the West. As we understand it, the Swedish group’s strategy is to lay a carpet of mosques all over the country. They have over twenty planning permissions, from Malmö in the south to Luleå in the north. In this way, they can set up a base to begin actually recruiting.”

“What recruiting?” Julén asked.

“By controlling the mosques, they will pressure the Muslim communities, in particular the Sunnis and their imams, to move in their direction.”

“The direction of Wahhabism and Sharia law,” Julén concluded.

“Exactly,” Martin said. “With four hundred thousand Muslims in the country, there’s great potential. And their
voices would definitely be heard. Each year, Sweden takes in about fifty thousand refugees with Islamic religious beliefs and, if we compare the Swedish reluctance to have children against the Muslim preference for breeding, Sweden will soon have changed its population. This is the process that this group is trying to accelerate. In twenty to thirty years, there will be as many Muslims as there are ethnic Swedes in this country. Then it will be too late to stop the transition to an Islamic state.”

“But what does this have to do with Drug-X?” Julén interrupted sceptically. “Building mosques and preaching about an Islamic state doesn’t mean they have access to Drug-X. What would be the purpose?”

Martin gave a slight smile. Her naivety obviously had no bounds.

“Our terrorist Prince Hatim al-Amri actually owns a pharmaceuticals plant that develops and manufactures pharmaceuticals mainly for Muslim countries in the third world. There’s also one of the world’s most advanced centres for genetic research in the desert about three hundred kilometres from the capital Riyadh. Muslim scientists from all over the world work there. The USA would have normally bombed the centre to bits, if not for the fact that Saudi Arabia is one of their most reliable allies in the region. They look the other way as long as the oil keeps on flowing and the Saudis keep on buying American weapons for billions of dollars each year.”

Julén looked cautiously at Martin. “So you mean that Drug-X is coming from a terrorist prince in Saudi Arabia?”