Jens Lapidus - Easy Money

Stefanovic stared them down, one by one. The old boys were chastened. What he’d told them wasn’t news. Even so, you could see it in their eyes, the flicker of understanding that maybe the Yugos weren’t the biggest, baddest, and most beautiful anymore. The golden age was over. They were no longer kings of the hill.

Nenad arranged a well-waxed piece of hair, smoothed it down. “I can tell you what’s happened. They’re letting too many blattes into this country. Fuck, first it was the Kosovo Albanians, Naser’s ugly mugs and the rest. Then all the nasty-ass Gambians-they fuckin’ own half of the heroin in this city. And this is goddamn unbelievable: The Russians are smuggling cigarettes with the Bandidos. Unholy bedfellows. Worse than Croats, Slovenians, and Americans sucking each other off. It’s sicker than what the Svens do to our import pussy. Close the borders. Deport every Eastern fuck who sits his dark-haired, drug-filled ass down on the blond side of the border.”

Stefanovic said, “There’s a lot to what you just said. But it’s not just the new immigrants who’ve created the competition. We’re seeing new alliances. New gangs. They’ve learned from us and the motorcycle gangs in the States. We’ve got certain advantages, we all come from Holy Serbia. We speak the same language, have the same habits and contacts, are unified. But today, that’s not helping. Especially not now when the peace’s been broken. There’s a new war on-and it involves us. So far, two from the Bandidos, one HA, and one OG-popped. But we’ve taken a beating too. You all know what’s happened. Two months ago, one of ours was shot, severely injured. Both the war and the Nova Project will continue if we don’t do something. I’ve been thinking about it. Radovan’s been thinking about it. Mrado and I’ve talked to some others, which you’ll hear more about in a moment. To conclude, there are a lot more players on the field than five years ago, the cease-fire’s been broken, and the police’ve strengthened their positions through this damn Nova shit. They’re pinpointing us, infiltrating us, disturbing the balance. When people within certain groups fall, other groups think it’s a free-for-all. We’re fighting, when we should be collaborating. But we have a suggestion for a solution to the problem. Mrado will tell you about that.”

Stefanovic handed out copies of a paper with a list of names on it. Pointed.

“These are the gangs that control organized crime in Stockholm. Under the name of each gang, I’ve written down what they do and where. For example, you can see here that the Hells Angels run coat checks all over the city, do some drug dealing, primarily in the southern boroughs, import precursors, run automatic gambling machines all over the city, and do protection racketeering. All you gotta do is compare. Who’s in the same business we’re in and where’re they doing it. I’m about to hand the show over to Mrado. He’s already been in touch with some of the gangs on the list. Discussed the solution.”

Goran leaned across the table, as if he didn’t think the others would hear otherwise. “I honestly don’t see why we gotta find a solution. I don’t see a problem, since I’ve got total control over my business. If someone else’s got a problem, they should have to solve it on their own.”

Clear message directed at Mrado and Nenad: You’re not handling your job.

Stefanovic supported himself with both his hands on the table. The sleeves of his suit jacket slipped down over his cuffs and cuff links, which were in the shape of mini revolvers. He leaned over the table, mimicked Goran.

“You’re missing the point, Goran. We’re in this together. We consider and analyze what’s best for Radovan and for us. Not just for you. If you haven’t understood that by now, you’re welcome to discuss the matter with Rado in private. End of story.”

The second time today that Goran’d stepped out of line. The second time he’d gotten his fingers smacked. How much crap would Rado take?

Radovan remained calm. Gaze glued on Goran. Power play.

Goran stared back for a microsecond, then nodded.

Mrado cleared his throat. He’d prepared tonight’s talk ahead of time. Some parts were hot; Goran might freak out again.

“As Stefanovic was saying, I’ve been in touch with some of the groups. Among them, the Hells Angels and the Original Gangsters. And we’ve come up with the solution; it’s all about dividing up the market. Dividing up the different areas we work between us. The groups work differently. The HA are a lot more organized than the OG. On the other hand, the OG are ready to take bigger risks and have better connections in the outer boroughs. You can take a look at Stefanovic’s handout to see what they’re doing. The HA compete with us over coat checks, cocaine, and booze smuggling. They’re bigger than us at racketeering and gambling machines. The OG do cocaine and some racketeering and different loosely planned CIT hits. My assessment is that the OG aren’t a direct threat to our business. We could basically give a fuck about them. But they might, for example, be in competition with other groups that, in turn, compete for the same markets we do. We get a domino effect. The Hells Angels, for instance, are ready to discuss a division regarding either the booze import or the coat checks. Stefanovic and I are gonna look into it further. I’m gonna meet up with more people and hear what can be done. The Gambians, the Bandidos, the Wolfpack Brotherhood, and others. The point is that we have to fortify the front against this Nova shit and end the war. You know as well as I do that no one wants to be called a canary, but in a war, the whole sky fills with birdsong. Rat people out rather than rub ’em out, man to man. The Nova Project gains from everyone being at war with everyone else.”

Mrado continued to explain. Described the gangs. The rings that divided and ruled the city. Unholy alliances and kinship. Ethnic, racial, and geographic groupings.

The men sat in silence. No one wanted to give up their market. At the same time, everyone understood the problem. Most of all, no one wanted to fight with Radovan.

Mrado thought about the mood he’d sensed earlier. Rado wasn’t totally pleased. After this run-through, Radovan’s attitude toward him ought to improve. Mrado’d begun a huge job with the market division.

He wrapped up his lecture.

Radovan thanked Stefanovic and Mrado.

Everyone turned their cells back on.

A few minutes of small talk.

Goran excused himself. Said he had to go.

Rado looked satisfied. “Thanks for coming. I think this could be the beginning of something new, something big. You can go now if you want. Personally, I’d planned on enjoying myself tonight.”

The doors to the room swung open. Two girls in short skirts rolled in a booze cart. Poured out drinks.

They sang Serbian drinking songs.

Nenad pinched one of the girls on the butt.

Rado laughed.

Food was brought in.

Mrado almost forgot his feelings toward Radovan.

It was gonna be a long night.

MEMORANDUM

(Confidential, pursuant to chapter 9, paragraph 12 of the Secrecy Act.)

PROJECT NOVA

COUNTY CRIMINAL POLICE INITIATIVE AGAINST ORGANIZED CRIME

Balkan-related crime in Stockholm

Report Number 7

Background Information

The following memorandum is based on reports and suspicions from the Special Gang Commission and the Norrmalm police’s Financial Crime Investigation Unit in collaboration with the Unified County Effort Against Organized Crime in the Stockholm Area (collectively referred to below as the Surveillance Group). The methods employed include mapping, with the help of the combined experience of the Stockholm police; the collection of information from people within the criminal networks, so-called rats; secret wiretapping and bugging; as well as the coordination of requisite registries. The memorandum is being presented due to the fact that new information has been gathered from a person (X) who is currently convicted and incarcerated and who was previously active within the networks described below and also noted internal conflicts within the Yugoslavian network’s leadership.