Jens Lapidus - Easy Money

It was hard to talk over the music. Sophie poured him a vodka tonic. JW sipped, stirred, picked up an ice cube with his fingers and popped it in his mouth. Sucked on it, hard. Sophie looked at him and sipped her drink.

He went over Abdulkarim’s advice silently to himself. Start by handing out freebies. Make friends by being generous, friends who like coke. Friends with cash or other friends with cash. Try to make sure people take as little as possible at the club-it’s an unsafe environment. Go to after parties instead. Organize after parties. Deliver to B-list celebs at after parties. Use at home. Don’t sell too-large quantities in the beginning-you don’t want to create a secondhand market.

Nippe leaned over and started talking to Sophie. JW couldn’t hear what they were saying. He dug the rush instead, unbuttoned another button on his shirt and gulped his drink. Felt how sharp his thoughts were-like a Mach3 razor blade.

JW had his own ideas. He wouldn’t carry too much at a time. If he was picked up, he wanted to be able to claim it was for his own use. He hid the rest in smart places. When he sold out: home for more. No problem, Stureplan was close enough to Tessin Park. Even more important: keep his buds well heeled so they didn’t question too much why he’d always be the one delivering from now on.

Sophie leaned over and brushed JW’s ear with her lips. He shuddered.

She said straight out, “Nippe says you’ve got Charlie. Can I taste some?”

Silently, JW thanked Nippe. This was an opening. Play your cards right now. Don’t make a big deal about it.

“Sure,” he said. “I have some left over. Bring your friend Anna and we’ll go to Humlegården.”

They held hands again, pushed through the crowd. Past the golden boys, the silicone babes, the Yugo Mafia dudes, and the corporate schmucks.

The Eurodisco beats kept pumping.

They walked toward the exit. It was packed by the cash registers. Jet Set Carl was there, keeping watch over the cash flow. But his real, more important job was to hug, smile, introduce, make small talk, laugh, flirt. Jet Set Carl had control. Jet Set Carl had style. The money poured in. JW took note: He’s a good contact for the future.

He walked up. Positioned himself with Sophie and her friend Anna on either side and extended his hand. Jet Set Carl raised his eyebrows. “And you are…” JW was prepared. Replied, “Nippe Creutz’s friend, you know.”

JW saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. But maybe it wasn’t genuine recognition. One of Jet Set Carl’s most valuable skills was making people feel welcome and well treated, even though he didn’t remember them or have any idea who they were. Some called it two-faced. JW called it business-minded.

JW pulled some quick, prepared one-liners. Followed by mutual laughter. Carl checked out JW’s entourage: two hot chicks-he’d made the right move. He explained that they were only getting some air but would be coming back in. Carl nodded. JW fired off a couple more jokes. They connected. Good vibes. Jet Set Carl looked happy.

JW to himself: Nice work, JW.

They stepped out. It was 2:00 a.m. The line was gigantic, hysteric, chaotic. He made a deal with a bouncer that they’d be back soon. Humlegården Park stretched out in front of them, still dark green even though the sky was beginning to brighten. The sounds from the line could be heard en baisse. The girls were ready to go. They sat down on a park bench. Made some lame jokes. The air was cool; the sweat dried on their bodies. JW jabbered on, showered them with compliments, put in the highest charm gear possible. He played confidant, on their side. “Damn, you two look good tonight. Have you seen any sweet guys? Nippe’s pretty hot, isn’t he? I can set you up, Sophie.” And so on, and so on. Sophie was brutally beautiful. He wanted her.

He knew them, but still not really. The girls belonged to the clique from Lundsberg, an elite boarding school. A school with the motto Knowledge, Tradition, Community. They all had the same first names as their parents and their parents before them. JW was used to most things from hanging with the boyz. Knew the jargon and the etiquette. He ought to have a chance.

Anna giggled. “Didn’t you have something for us to taste?”

JW said, “Absolutely. I almost forgot.” He hadn’t wanted to be too pushy. Waited for them to ask.

He brought out an etui with a mirror, the flip kind. The baggie was ready in his jacket pocket. He poured out a pile and cut it with a razor blade-three thin lines. Presented the girls with a polished-steel snort straw. He glanced around, then handed over the straw.

“Help yourselves.”

Fifteen minutes later, the girls went inside. The bouncer remembered them. Girls like Sophie and Anna would’ve gotten in no matter what-they glided through the line like Moses through the Red Sea.

JW stayed in the park, wanted more nose candy by himself.

Everything was going so damn well. The girls seemed pleased. High, bouncy, and filled with spontaneity. It was a good start. JW’s first step into the C world. C as in cash.

It could only get better.

The sky was pale gray.

The glass-covered ramp connecting two sections of the Royal Library in the park seemed to glisten. JW usually studied there when he wasn’t studying at home. He’d seen Sophie there many times. Had learned to recognize the click of her heels on the floor when she walked between different reading rooms, had checked out her girlfriends, seen which guys she said hi to. And after a time, it turned out that he actually already knew some of the people in her group. The circles were smaller than he’d thought.

He brought out the etui and held the straw in his hand.

That’s when he saw it.

The motor sounded like a nuclear power plant as it blew past down Sturegatan, a tear through the Stockholm night.

A yellow Ferrari.

His first thought: The model looks the same as the one in Camilla’s pictures.

His second thought: There can hardly be more than one car like that in all of Stockholm.

The memory of his sister washed over him.

He had to know.

Who owned that car?

DISTRICT COURT OF STOCKHOLM

SENTENCE

PARTIES

PROSECUTION

District Attorney Markus Sjöberg

Stockholm District Attorney’s Office

PLAINTIFFS

1. Joakim Berggren, 740816-0939

Vapengatan 5

126 52 HÄGERSTEN

2. Daniel Lappalainen, 801205-2175

Lundagatan 55

117 27 STOCKHOLM

DEFENDANTS

1. Patrik Sjöquist, 760417-0351

Rosenlundsgatan 28

118 53 STOCKHOLM

2. Mrado Slovovic, 670203-9115

Katarina Bangata 37

116 39 STOCKHOLM

PUBLIC DEFENDER

Martin Thomasson, Esq.

Box 5467

112 31 STOCKHOLM

CRIMES COMMITTED

Aggravated Assault

PARAGRAPH

Subsection 3, Paragraph 6

SENTENCE

Prison, 3 years.

CHARGE ON APPEAL

Count 2 (Mrado Slovovic, regarding assault)

GROUNDS FOR THE DECISION

COUNT 1 (PATRIK SJÖQUIST, THIRD-DEGREE ASSAULT)

Evidence

The prosecutor has as written evidence, referred to a medical report regarding injuries incurred by Joakim Berggren. The report is in reference to, among other things, a fracture in the nasal bone, a crushing of the jawbone in two places, a fracture in the right cheekbone, torn skin in five places, bruises and swelling on cheeks and forehead, bruising around the right eye, swelling and tearing of the lips, four severed teeth in the upper front row, as well as bleeding in the brain, severe swelling of the brain, and brain contusion.

As verbal evidence, the prosecutor has referred to the statement of the witness Joakim Berggren, the statement of the witness Peter Hallén, security guard at restaurant Kvarnen, as well as the statement of the witness Christer Thräff, guest at the previously named restaurant at the time of the incident.