Colin Forbes - The Stockholm syndicate

"That's Harry's tactic," Beaurain murmured. "He hopes that by throwing him off balance he'll provoke him into making yet another blunder. And listen to this!"

The questions were now coming like bullets as reporters fought to catch Fondberg's eye. High up on a platform, he selected his questioners for their influence. Someone ran onto the platform with a note — doubtless from some Minister. Fondberg waved the messenger away and stuffed the message unread inside his pocket.

"Are you saying the Countess was mixed up in criminal activities?" asked someone from Der Spiegel.

"I am saying she was being blackmailed and intimidated in a way which would only be used by animals.

I have the most reliable of witnesses that she was actually threatened with death in the form her murder took."

"Your witness?"

"Would ex-Chief Superintendent Jules Beaurain of the Brussels anti-terrorist squad, previously in charge of Homicide, satisfy you?"

"Thank you. Yes!" said Der Spiegel.

"Christ!" Louise whispered. "He's blowing the whole works."

"And the one thing the Syndicate can't stand is publicity," Beaurain whispered back. "It's a dark evil creature which operates in the darkness."

"Would you care to elaborate on the structure of these powerful criminal groups you refer to?" The Times — of London.

"Check up on likely personalities at present in Stockholm," "Names, we need names!" The New York Times.

"You are here! Do some of your own investigative work, may I suggest!"

"Leo Gehn has just arrived in the capital, I hear," The New York Times.

"I have heard that also," Fondberg replied blandly. "Next question, please,"

"Who controls the international criminal groups you referred to in reply to an earlier question?" Le Monde of Paris.

There was a prolonged pause. Tension built up in the packed room as Fondberg, one arm supporting another, a hand under his chin, seemed to be considering whether to answer the question. One thing was clear and heightened the tension until the atmosphere became electric: the chief of Sapo did know the answer…

"A directorate of three men," Fondberg spoke slowly and with great deliberation. As he paused again, the door next to Beaurain was pulled open. A man took three paces forward and stopped, holding a Smith amp; Wesson with both hands, the muzzle raised and aimed point-blank at Harry Fondberg.

Louise had a blurred impression of a short, burly figure wearing a boiler suit. Beaurain grabbed the man's wrist and elbow. There was a single explosion. The bullet fired in the tussle — which would have blown Fondberg off his feet — embedded itself in the ceiling. There was a shocked, incredulous hush which lasted several seconds, during which the only sound was the scuffle of feet as Beaurain overpowered the gunman. Uniformed guards were appearing in the hall beyond the open door. Beaurain hurled the would-be assassin with all his strength backwards into their arms.

"Check him for other weapons!" he snapped. "Or do I have to do the whole damned job for you? He came within an ace of killing your boss."

Chaos broke loose. The room erupted into movement as the mob of reporters stormed towards the doorways. Beaurain hauled Louise back out of the path of the turbulent crowd and pressed her back against the wall. In thirty seconds the room was occupied by only three people: Beaurain, Louise and Harry Fondberg.

The Swede jumped agilely from the platform and ran towards the Belgian, holding out his hand. 'For saving my life I can only say thank you,"

"We stage-managed that rather well. Maybe we should go into the theatrical business," Beaurain whispered.

"I have the information you asked me to dig up on Dr. Theodor Norling's background before he came to Stockholm. It tells us nothing," Fondberg informed his listeners.

Beaurain and Louise were sitting at a round table in the Sapo chief's office, eating hungrily from a selection of dishes which Fondberg had ordered from a nearby restaurant. Beaurain nodded at Fondberg's remark as the Swede studied the report without enthusiasm.

"It is the same with all these provincial police forces — they think we live the high life here and they can't even answer a civil request without grumbling at how busy they are," "Tell us what there is to know about Norling," Beaurain suggested.

"Born in Gothenburg, his parents moved when he was seven years old to Ystad," he looked at Louise. "That is an old medieval port on the southern coast in the province of Skane. The people in Skane are very different."

He might have been talking about the end of the world, as certain New Yorkers refer to the Deep South. Perhaps this was the Deep South of Sweden, Louise reflected. Fondberg continued reading from his folder.

"When I say Ystad I mean a small place close to it. The first thing Theodor Norling's parents did when they arrived from Gothenburg was to separate. His mother ran off with a ship's engineer while the father managed to get himself killed in a traffic accident a few weeks later. Young Norling was taken in by some aunt who had money and he was partly educated abroad. He returned to Skane when he was twenty, attended the funeral of his aunt who had just died, and promptly used the legacy she had left him to set up in business as a collector."

"Let me guess," interjected Beaurain. "A collector of editions of rare books?"

"Wrong!" Fondberg chuckled delightedly at having scored a point when he saw Beaurain's expression. "As a collector and dealer in old coins."

"And he travelled a lot," Beaurain persisted, 'during the course of his business."

"Yes," Fondberg admitted.

"And most of his business was done abroad and locally he was known as a bit of a hermit and he never got married?"

"Yes," Fondberg agreed, almost reluctantly. "It is a waste of time my reading this folder since you seem to know the contents. It is true he was a hermit — and disliked on that account since he gave the impression he felt himself superior to the locals." The Swede chuckled again. "The truth of the matter probably is that he was very superior! Any more predictions?"

"Only one. He arrived suddenly in Stockholm to set up business as a dealer in rare books about two years ago."

Ten out of ten!" Fondberg did not even bother to refer to the folder.

"So," Beaurain suggested, 'to sum up, Theodor Norling has now no known living relatives. Correct? And have your people down there in darkest Skane found any close friends he left behind who could identify a picture taken of him?"

"Yes — and no. As you suggested I sent the picture we have of Norling, a picture which had to be taken secretly because of a directive from higher up. The Ystad police showed it to the very few people who knew Theodor Norling when he was in business down there. Some immediately identified him from the photo. Others said they didn't think that was the man they had known as Dr. Theodor Norling."

" The man they had known as Dr. Theodor Norling." Beaurain repeated the words slowly as though relishing every syllable. The chief of Sapo was now looking thoroughly piqued. Louise did nothing to enlighten him.

"It's bloody uncanny," was her unladylike remark.

"What is?" Fondberg pounced.

"How we've heard this story before. Twice to be precise." She looked at Beaurain who nodded giving her permission to go ahead. "What you have told us about the background and origins of Dr. Theodor Norling is an almost exact replica — with a few minor variations — of the background histories of the other two members of the so-called directorate controlling the Stockholm Syndicate."

"You mean these men are sleepers who are now activated?"

"No, oddly enough, the other way round." It was Beaurain who spoke.

"You mean someone has invented dummy men?" Fondberg suggested.