The Little Old Lady Who Struck Lucky Again! (34 page)

‘But just because we’ve got real gold out there doesn’t mean we should become arrogant. We have only borrowed that gold,’ Anna-Greta corrected them.

‘But I really do wonder what is going to happen with the world’s finances,’ Martha sighed. ‘Somebody will be stuck with the Old Maid card in the end.’

‘Martha, can’t you let others deal with the world’s economy?’ said Rake with a deep sigh. Martha didn’t have time to reply because, at that moment, the news about
the Historical Museum started. A bearded reporter with a microphone in his hand stood next to a uniformed Blomberg in front of the museum steps.

‘Are there still no leads in the hunt for the gold thieves?’ the bearded man asked.

‘Interpol has been brought in. We have our contacts. Sooner or later the gold will be found.’

‘Could you comment upon the ransom demand? Will the Government pay the ransom?’

‘The Government will not pay the ransom, as a matter of principle.’

‘But it is said at the museum here that the thieves want the ransom to go to the elderly and poor and others in need of support.’

‘I don’t wish to comment on that. Our job is to find the criminals.’

‘The Timboholm treasure and the rest of the gold in the display cases are an irreplaceable part of our cultural heritage. Is the state really not going to save those treasures?’

‘That is not something upon which I can comment. Excuse me.’

The interview ended abruptly and the League of Pensioners watched in silence as the camera swept around the Gold Room and zoomed in on the empty display cases. Martha turned the TV off with the
remote.

‘Well, there’s nothing to worry about just now, at any rate,’ Martha said. ‘But it would be a scandal if they didn’t pay.’

‘Of course they must pay,’ Brains agreed. ‘I can’t imagine them not doing so.’

‘Regardless, we’ve done a neat job; you can’t see any damage to the display cases,’ said Christina, who particularly cared about matters of aesthetics.

‘Is that so? Well, you came a long way with the right drill and a compass saw,’ Brains pointed out.

‘The police said that they were on the way to solving the crime, but they don’t seem to have any leads at all. I think they’ve run up against a brick wall,’ said
Anna-Greta, relieved.

‘But it’s surprising they haven’t got on to us,’ Brains mused out loud.

‘Yes, but Christina destroyed our tracks with the fire extinguisher,’ Martha reminded them.

‘Did you, Christina?’ Rake came to life and looked at her with admiration. ‘Well, that was brilliant, my dear. To think that you had the presence of mind to do that.’

‘You learn a lot from reading books,’ Christina answered and nonchalantly put on some more lipstick to improve her lips. ‘But that’s books. I don’t know whether
computer games can teach you as much.’

Rake fell silent.

‘But what should we do? The state has not paid out anything, there’s been no money to the retirement homes or to culture,’ Martha sighed.

‘And none to our secret account either,’ Anna-Greta added. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, but Gunnar showed me how to do it, so, well, I did actually set up a little account for
ourselves so that we can buy presents when we go to visit retirement homes. The old people were so pleased last time. Besides, we have to pay a lot of rent for the storage space in the docks. That
was a really bad deal; we’re paying without having a single thing stored there.’

‘OK, OK, we need money and luck has not been on our side. It can’t all be perfect,’ said Martha, who was feeling more confused than she ought to be. She tried to gather her
wits and think about police work, the non-payment of the ransom and money that had gone astray, but she didn’t really have the energy. She wanted to give Brains a kiss instead. ‘You
know what, when I think about it, the idea of asking the state for money was doomed from the start.’ Martha didn’t stop there. ‘It takes such a long time for them to decide
anything, so, before that happens, we’ll all be dead. Why not send letters to some venture capitalists instead?’

‘Yes, they usually work fast,’ said Rake nodding. ‘But they should get something for helping us.’

‘A pity we didn’t get more gold from the Gold Room. If that hardener hadn’t been too old and caused the pictorial stones to break up, then perhaps we could have taken a bit
more so that we could give some away,’ Brains said.

‘Yes, the hardener was too old, but it’s always difficult to see the expiry date on the packets,’ Martha consoled him.

‘We can’t give the gold away,’ Anna-Greta cut in. ‘That’s state property. It is quite enough with all the other stuff that they have sold off.’

‘Can’t we create a shell company that those finance sharks can buy?’ asked Gunnar as he joined in the discussion. ‘Some future dummy company of the sort they think they
can earn money with?’

‘Yes, perfect!’ they called out in unison, but then when they realized that they had no idea how you created a dummy company, their enthusiasm turned into a quiet murmur. They were
all feeling a little bit down because, despite their detailed planning of the coup, the gold robbery hadn’t given them any money at all. Suddenly Anna-Greta started giggling.

‘The gold robbery was a flop, but we have done something new, at least we can be pleased about that. Before, we got the loot but then lost it. Now, we failed to get all the loot and, on
top of that, we can’t get rid of it.’

She looked at Gunnar and then burst out in such an infectious laugh that the others couldn’t help but join in.

‘Perhaps it’s time to make a new attempt to trace the missing Las Vegas money. Those millions must have ended up somewhere,’ Brains added, trying to turn the conversation in a
more positive direction.

‘You’re right. We’ve taken on too many different things. Perhaps I can make an attempt to hack into that legal firm,’ said Gunnar.

‘That would be great, because Beylings seems like a shady operation,’ said Brains. ‘I saw lots of luxury boats and motorbikes when I was in the dock storage area. That
warehouse also contains art and vintage cars.’

‘Yes, that’s right, I’d completely forgotten that.’ Martha looked up so quickly that she dropped her knitting onto the floor. ‘When we talked with that security
guard, the student with the mobile phone, I jotted down some codes he had next to his computer. Brains, do you remember? It looked like a list.’ Martha delved into her big handbag.
‘What if we can trace Beylings’ clients that way? Why didn’t I think of that before?’ She rummaged around a few moments, and then fished up a rather crumpled piece of paper
which she handed over to Gunnar. ‘Even if Beylings only rent the storage facility, they must have the names of the owners.’

‘Yes, of course they must.’ Gunnar got up and went and sat in front of the computer. ‘Give me an hour or two, and perhaps I can sort that out.’

Anna-Greta went and sat next to Gunnar and waved to the others to leave. So they went down to the cosily furnished room in the cellar where they had a billiard table, a card table and
comfortable armchairs. They played bridge while they waited, as that was something they thought was just as good for your brains as crossword puzzles and sudoku. They found it hard to concentrate
and nobody could be bothered to accuse Rake of cheating, even though he dropped several cards onto the floor and, in some mysterious way, kept on winning. Gunnar and Anna-Greta took their time and
two hours had passed when finally they came down to the cellar with their report. They had evidently worked really hard because this time Anna-Greta didn’t have any kiss marks on her
neck.

‘Now just listen to this, it’s incredible! All those things belong to some city politicians,’ said Gunnar pointing at the printout he held in his hand. ‘We found an old
list of luxury goods owned by Cornegie and Care Trust AB.’

Brains gave a whistling sound.

‘On top of that there are lots of things that belong to somebody called Blomberg,’ Anna-Greta went on.

‘That’s not my Chief Inspector Blomberg, is it?’ said Martha suddenly becoming alert.

‘Yes, I think it is, because this Blomberg is a member of the board of the Police Pension Fund. Besides, he will soon be a pensioner himself and he owes the tax people lots of money. So he
would have plenty of reasons to do this.’

‘I’m beginning to fathom this,’ said Christina. ‘Our transfers to the Police Pension Fund actually worked, but then something went wrong.’

‘Exactly. Because from the Police Pension Fund somebody could trace the money back to our secret account in Las Vegas. An IT-expert or an accomplished hacker has managed to redirect the
transfer to himself.’

‘And laid his hands on the money,’ Anna-Greta added. ‘Shameful, don’t you think?’

‘Blomberg has bought paintings, cars and boats for hundreds of millions recently, and they have all been registered as belonging to Beylings,’ Gunnar went on. ‘That simply
can’t be a coincidence.’

‘But what has that got to do with us?’ Rake wondered, finding it hard to keep up.

‘The things that Blomberg has bought, including paintings by Liljefors and Zorn, are worth about two hundred million. So Blomberg has got at our transfers via the pension fund and then
redirected the money to his own account.’

‘What a villain!’ Rake rolled his eyes.

‘The swine!’ Martha exclaimed. ‘Gunnar, let me look at those computer printouts.’

Gunnar handed them over and Martha studied the list carefully for a long time while the furrow between her eyebrows grew all the larger.

‘Now listen to this. We’re going to get at that Blomberg and all those crooked politicians. We’ll get every krona back. I’ll see to that.’

‘But Martha, my dear, how are you going to do that?’ Brains asked, with a worried look on his face. ‘We aren’t going to commit some more crimes, are we?’

‘I’ve had an idea. We shall delegate,’ said Martha.

‘Good morning, nice weather today!’

Brains had waited a long time before finally he caught sight of Tompa. Then, quick as a flash, he had put on his overcoat and hurried out. When the biker came walking down the slope, Brains
pretended he just happened to be on his way to their letter box. He raised his cap.

‘Hello, mate!’ Tompa answered.

‘You know what? I found this in my desk drawer. I don’t think you will ever have seen such a fancy bike,’ said Brains, fumbling in his coat pocket and pulling out a wrinkled
old photo. ‘A beauty, isn’t she? This is what I had when I was eighteen and picked up the girls with. The wife fell for it straight away.’

‘Yep, girls go mad when they see one of those.’ Tompa caressed the photo with his thumb a long while before handing it back.

‘But that bike simply doesn’t compare with those luxury goods we saw in the warehouse,’ said Brains. ‘Jesus, that was quite something! That legal firm, Beylings, must be
stinking rich.’

‘Beylings? Do you know about them?’

‘Yeah, I mean they own the stuff we saw.’

Tompa straightened his back and gave Brains a searching look. ‘You’re right, mate. They are smart. And their clients . . . Beylings make those shady types even richer,’ he said
with an edge in his voice.

‘And all the luxury boats, cars and all the art that just stands there collecting dust,’ Brains sighed.

‘Oh yeah, those blokes in fancy suits look very posh on the outside,’ Tompa spat onto the gravel. ‘Some criminals just look prettier than others, but they’re all the
same.’

‘The thing I was wondering about was that Beylings can’t own all that stuff themselves, or what do you reckon?’ Brains asked. ‘Perhaps it’s just in their
name?’

Tompa looked pensive.

‘Yeah, right. Even shady types need good lawyers. I bet you that Beylings are scared this could come out. I’ve got to go now, see you, mate!’ Tompa suddenly found himself in a
great hurry and rushed off. Brains watched as he rushed on his way, then he checked the letter box and went back inside the house.

‘Well, how did it go?’ Martha asked when she met him in the hall.

‘According to plan, my dear! I have sown some seeds. He’ll soon be going places.’

Tompa didn’t need many days to think this over. By the end of the week, he had Jörgen with him and, on Friday, just before lunch, they set off to the city. They
roared past Stureplan and at the Riche restaurant they drove up onto the pavement and took off their helmets. Jörgen ran his fingers through his sticky hair and Tompa undid the buttons of his
leather waistcoat. It was rather warm with leather and heavy boots at this time of year, but sometimes it was necessary. With a well-aimed kick, he sent an empty beer can flying over the
Tarmac.

‘Ready?’

Jörgen nodded and together they strode off in the direction of Beylings. They stopped at the posh entrance on Birger Jarlsgatan 4E where a red mat and beautiful oil paintings could be seen
inside the lobby. They rang the bell and when a woman’s voice asked who it was, Tompa replied in a light voice: ‘Flower delivery for Beylings.’

Once inside the lobby they adjusted their leather waistcoats and took the lift up. They found the lawyers’ office on the third floor and rang the doorbell. Tompa paced back and forth on
the landing impatiently. Even though he had done this many a time before, he always felt a bit uncomfortable. Now it was high time that Bandangels showed some results. As yet, the Mad Angels board
hadn’t voted to admit the gang. So they needed to step up their game. They had to show what they could do.

A secretary opened the door. On the way in, Tompa noticed that the hinges of the security door had had a bit of a knock. Excellent, then the alarm wouldn’t work properly.

‘We’re here to see Mr Birgerson.’

‘His room is down the corridor, but do you have an appointment?’

‘We always do.’

Without waiting for an answer, Tompa and Jörgen went straight down the corridor and looked at the name plates. When they reached Birgerson’s door, they stopped, looked at each other
and nodded. With a quick tug Tompa pulled the door open. Birgerson, sitting behind his desk, looked up in surprise.

‘Who are you? I don’t have any appointments now.’