Alex Lukeman: The Cup

Bergstrom only dealt with two buyers in order to minimize his potential exposure. Du Maurier was in France: Mercurio in Italy. Du Maurier would take anything that came from the ancient civilizations of the Middle East. A bás relief, a carved tile, a statue, a piece of pottery, it didn't matter. Mercurio, on the other hand, was only interested in Christian objects. There were fewer of those, but when they turned up he was willing to pay a premium price for them.

It had been a satisfactory arrangement. The artifacts came in with the immigrants and ended up at the center with Sayed Hussein. Bergstrom made sure the police looked in a different direction and arranged for a buyer. The commission was deposited in a bank in Andorra.

He had accumulated a nice nest egg, enough for a comfortable retirement. Most of his flights of fancy centered around someplace warm by the ocean, Ibiza, perhaps, or the Azores. Everything had been going smoothly. Bergstrom could almost feel the sand between his toes.

Then Vilgot Andersson had interfered. That was the trouble with honest cops.

Bergstrom looked down at his thumb, where he'd chewed the nail to the quick.

Things were slipping out of control. First, Andersson's body had been found. Bergstrom had been shocked. There wasn't supposed to be any violence, certainly nothing like that. No one was supposed to get hurt, but they hadn't asked before they killed him and there was nothing he could have done about it, anyway. It was a strong message, meant for Bergstrom as much as anyone else.

The phone call had been from Sayed Hussein's alter ego, Gabriel. Bergstrom didn't like Gabriel but he had to deal with him, since Hussein couldn't speak Swedish or English. Gabriel had told him about the visit from Forsberg and the near riot outside afterward. He'd warned Bergstrom that their arrangement was at risk. He wanted the police to back off.

Bergstrom already knew what had happened at the center. It was the number one topic at police headquarters. What he didn't know was who the people were who had been with Forsberg. They hadn't been in uniform. Gabriel had said he thought the woman might be American.

It had been necessary to spend a few minutes soothing Gabriel. Inside, Bergstrom had been angry. It helped to push away the feeling of panic that was beginning to worm its way into his consciousness. Bergstrom wished he could get rid of Gabriel and Hussein, but it was fantasy. In truth, he was not a brave man. He'd never even fired a gun in anger.

He looked at his watch. In twenty minutes there was a meeting to discuss a response to the morning's events. Someone from the ministry would be there and that always created problems. Whenever the government got involved in police business it was never certain what the result would be. The laissez-faire policy of the Social Democrats toward the immigrants worked to Bergstrom's advantage but an incident like this couldn't be overlooked.

He needed to find out who was working with Forsberg and what was being planned at KSI.

After that he'd decide what to do.

The day after the raid on the asylum the team met again at KSI Headquarters. Forsberg followed them into the conference room and sat down.

"You look pretty good for someone who just got knifed," Nick said.

"It looked worse than it was. He missed everything important. It's sore as hell, though."

"I know the feeling," Ronnie said.

"Let's talk about yesterday." Forsberg looked at Selena. "Tell me what Hussein said that wasn't translated."

"They have nothing but contempt for you. Gabriel called you a dog. Hussein told him to find out what you wanted and then tell you whatever you wanted to hear so you'd go away. He said you were annoying."

"Woof, woof. I'll show him annoying. What else did he say?"

"You asked about the man seen talking with Andersson."

"With the scar."

"Hussein called him Ahmed and said he was a fool for being seen. He told Gabriel to say there was no one there like that. He wanted Gabriel to find out who the witness was that saw Ahmed and after that to tell you the interview was over."

"Ahmed. At least we have a name."

"It's a common name," Selena said.

"Do you have a picture database of the refugees?" Nick asked. "With that scar, it should be easy to pick him out."

"Over a hundred thousand immigrants came here last year and there are more every day. There are many pictures, but most are of poor quality. It will take time. If he's in there, we'll find him."

"What are you going to do about Hussein?" Nick asked.

"Nothing at the moment. He's one of the most important Muslim leaders in Sweden. I don't have any grounds to arrest him. If I take him in, there will be riots. People will get hurt. The government would call it harassment and free him, but not before the damage was done. Until I have proof he's involved in terrorist activity, I can't do anything."

"Then I guess we'd better find some proof," Nick said.

"There's going to be a government inquiry," Forsberg said. "I fired my weapon and I shot one of the men who attacked us. In the current political environment, I'm guilty of an unprovoked, racist attack until proven innocent. After the inquiry I'll probably be suspended."

"That's crazy."

"That's politics. Hussein will claim anything you say to back me up is a lie because you're prejudiced against Islam. He'll say I insulted Mohammed and that's why everyone got upset. There will be a dozen witnesses to swear I fired with no provocation."

Nick said nothing. It all sounded uncomfortably familiar.

Forsberg continued. "It means you'll be asked to leave."

"Hell, we just got here," Lamont said. "I was just settling in."

"They won't kick you out before the inquiry but you'd better be ready to pack."

"Who was the witness that saw Andersson with Ahmed?" Selena asked.

"A truck driver named Torn Dahlberg. He delivers produce to the center. Dahlberg was making a delivery and saw the two of them arguing."

"Did anybody see Andersson after that?"

"No. We have a CCTV recording of him going into his apartment building and coming out two minutes later, in a hurry. He got into his car and drove away. His phone records show that he received a call right before he left. It came from a throwaway, we can't trace it."

"Where did he go?"

"He drove out of town, toward where we found his body. It's all country out there, farmland. Many of the old farms are deserted now. The old people are dying off and the young ones don't want to take up farming. Andersson was nailed to the side of a barn on one of those empty spreads."

"What was he doing out there?" Nick asked.

"We don't know. We think the phone call was to set him up. Whoever called probably killed him."

"Did you find anything at the site to explain why he was there?"

"No. He didn't drive there directly and we haven't found his car yet. Whoever killed him grabbed him and took him out there where he died."

"If we could find the car it might tell us something," Selena said.

"Sure," Forsberg said, "but it could be anywhere."

"What kind of car was it?"

"Vilgot drove a blue Saab, an older model. I used to kid him about it, it was pretty beat up."

"If he drove out of town, that narrows it down some," Nick said.

Forsberg shrugged. "There are lots of places in the country where a car could be hidden. A barn, a shed, lots of places. We don't have the manpower to search everything along that highway."

"Are there houses along the road?" Selena asked. "Maybe someone saw him drive by."

"We thought about that. We asked everybody we could find but nobody recalled seeing him."

"You talked to everyone?"

"Everyone we could find."

"What about the ones you couldn't?"