Jonas Bonnier - The Helicopter Heist - A Novel Based on True Events

Valter falls silent, as though he is deliberating with himself, but then he says:

“They’re heavily armed. But the police will probably be getting here any moment,” he adds, in an attempt to dampen the drama.

Tavernier hangs up.

“The police will be here soon,” he tells Ann-Marie, something that has an immediate calming effect on her.

The fear in her wide eyes seems to lessen slightly.

“They got in through the roof, didn’t they?” she asks.

Tavernier nods. It’s something everyone working at G4S in Västberga has discussed. The new information spreads across the room. They knew it. That damn glass skylight is like a beacon for all the country’s would-be criminals at night.

They get back to work.

“Anyone who’s finished, come over here,” Tavernier says.

He is already standing in the area of the room that could be described as the center. The so-called safety position where they’re meant to gather to wait for the police or guards. All in line with the instructions of Security Chief Palle Lindahl, instructions that he took from one of the international conferences G4S holds for its security chiefs every year. At these events, the combined experiences of over a hundred different countries come together. Stay in the room until help arrives, that’s the message. Don’t start running around a building full of armed criminals. They’ll be searching the corridors and won’t appreciate any surprises in the shape of confused staff members trying to find a way out.

Everyone knows the drill.

One by one, they finish their work and move over to Tavernier and Ann-Marie, who are already standing in position.

All that’s left now is to wait until it’s over.

It seems obvious to Tavernier that the robbers will be making their way toward the vault on the second floor.

5:28 a.m.

The hole in the reinforced glass is big enough for Nordgren to use the crowbar to break an opening they can get in through.

On the other side is a room that seems to be used as some kind of storage area, but right now it’s empty. The door is open, meaning they are now wall-to-wall with Counting.

Maloof points to the fire door they were expecting. Nordgren goes over and studies the frame. The door is on a metal runner, meaning it can automatically move to one side if the fire alarm sounds. At the very top right, tucked in beneath the ceiling, he spots the cable controlling the door. He doesn’t have any wire cutters with him, but a powerful tug is all it takes to pull it from its connection. Then they just need to push the door to the side. It moves smoothly in its tracks, revealing a steel-clad security door behind it.

It’s the last barrier between them and the money.

Nordgren pulls a Coca-Cola can from his backpack. It’s been cut in the middle, filled with explosives and a magnet has been attached to the bottom. He pushes the detonation capsule into the explosive putty and fixes the can to the door, an inch beneath the handle. With one hand, he gestures for Sami and Maloof to go back into the storeroom by the reinforced glass. The concave base of the can will direct the explosion inward and away. It’s something Nordgren has done many times before.

He deliberately chooses a smaller charge. He doesn’t know how much it will take, and he doesn’t know what’s on the other side of the door. Where the money is located, where the workstations are.

Nordgren clamps the long detonation cable onto the capsule and joins Maloof and Sami in the storeroom. He moves quickly and confidently. He touches the cable to the poles of the battery, the charge explodes, and he runs back out to the door.

There’s barely a scratch on it.

Nordgren nods. He knows what he needs to do. He applies a new charge in the same place. He tries to stop himself from feeling any stress, doesn’t doubt for a moment that he’ll manage, works methodically. He’s back in the storeroom with the others in less than thirty seconds, and the next charge goes off.

This explosion is considerably more powerful than the last. The smell of burned gunpowder fills the room when the three go in to see whether it worked. The smoke and dust quickly settle.

The door is still barely damaged.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sami whispers.

5:29 a.m.

They hear the next explosion at almost the exact moment the last bundle of notes is locked in the cage. The sound makes them jump; it’s louder than before, it seems closer.

“We can’t just stand here, Claude,” Ann-Marie whispers.

It’s unclear whether she is whispering so that the robbers won’t hear her, or because she doesn’t want to worry her colleagues.

“The instructions are clear,” Tavernier replies unnecessarily formally.

“We can’t just stand here,” she repeats, shaking her head.

“Can someone turn off that damn radio?” Tavernier snaps.

He doesn’t see who does it, but a few seconds later the device finally falls silent.

“Don’t worry,” he says aloud. “When the robbers make it into the vault, they’ll realize it’s pointless.”

But just before Tavernier has time to continue, they hear the third blast, and it’s worse than those before it.

“Shit,” he swears.

“It’s the security door!”

The voice comes from someone standing by the bend in the room, and they can see what Tavernier can’t.

“Everyone stay here,” Tavernier orders.

5:30 a.m.

If things had been different and they were sitting around a kitchen table, talking about this, Sami Farhan’s frustration would have known no bounds. He would have gotten up, moved around the table and talked nonstop. Gesturing wildly, he would have reminded the others what he had been through, stories he’d heard about cautiousness and a lack of decisiveness, and he would have pointed to Niklas Nordgren and said, “Fuck whatever’s on the other side of the door, just blow the damn thing open.”

But not now.

Not now that they’re on the sixth floor of the cash depot, staring helplessly at the steel-clad security door as their helicopter hovers overhead.

Now Sami says nothing. He trusts Niklas Nordgren because he has to trust him, and he assumes that Nordgren knows better than anyone what needs to be done.

“OK,” says the explosives expert. “Third time’s lucky. Take cover.”

He says it quietly. Without any hesitation, without apologizing. And while Sami and Maloof resolutely return to the storeroom, Nordgren pulls out an explosive frame rather than another can. He fixes the frame to the door, and this time he primes it differently. He knows there’s a risk he’ll take out half the wall with it. He knows there’s a risk that the money on the other side will be buried by plaster and dust and splinters.

Not to mention what might happen to the people working there.

But he has no other option. Though he hasn’t looked at his watch since they got onto the sixth floor, he knows they’re running out of time. Every stage has taken longer than it should have. This has to work now.

5:31 a.m.

Tavernier quickly goes over to inspect the steel door. It’s the emergency exit out to the atrium, and even from a distance he can see that there’s a dent in it, right beneath the handle, as though someone had taken a battering ram to it from the other side.

He takes out his phone and calls Valter.

“Can you see them?”

“No. But they must be up with you somewhere, they haven’t appeared on any of the cameras by the elevators or the stairs.”

“They’re trying to blow their way in here,” says Tavernier.