Life Deluxe (39 page)
Authors: Jens Lapidus
It felt like a wave was crashing through her body. Goran’d told her that she had to choose her own path—and what she was facing now was a turning point. She could continue studying law, hanging out with the girls, mourning Dad, and poking around a little in what had happened to him. Pretend that life was the same as it used to be.
Or she could do something important. Begin to act on her own. Transform the sorrow.
She felt the blood running through her veins, her heart pumping. She felt her overheated brain begin to be cooled by the air. She was strong—she was her father’s daughter. She could do more, had more power than to just continue in the tracks reserved for ordinary people. Dad’d staked out a different path. Now it was her turn to walk it.
Take control. Take power.
* * *
SWEDISH ARMED FORCES
SWEDEC Designation:
Swedish EOD and Demining Center
383883:2011
Administrator/Client
Forensic Technician Lennart Dalgren
Stockholm Technical Squad
Preliminary Investigation
K-2930-2011-231
Identifying a Hand Grenade
BACKGROUND
SWEDEC has been asked to identify an object. The inquiry comes from the police force in Stockholm and is in regard to a hand grenade as well as other explosive devices that were used on Skeppargatan in Stockholm. The police have sent images and shrapnel fragments for identification. The Swedish Armed Forces
are responding with excerpts from EOD DC’s database in regard to construction and function.
IDENTIFYING THE AMMUNITION OBJECT
The ammunition object has been identified as:
Type of ammunition: Fragmentation hand grenade
Classification: M52 P3
Country of origin: Former Yugoslavia
OTHER FRAGMENTS FROM EXPLOSIVE MATERIALS HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED AS:
Type of explosive: malleable explosives, so-called plastic
(putty) explosives.
Type: Semtex
Manufacturer: Semtin Glassworks
Country of origin: Czechoslovakia
ASSESSMENT
The attached images and fragments indicate clearly that the weapon in question is a hand grenade, model M52 P3, from the former Yugoslavia. It is probable that 1,000 grams of so called plastic explosives of the type labeled Semtex have been placed around the grenade.
DESCRIPTION OF THE CONSTRUCTION
M52 P3
M52 P3 is a hand grenade made to stop an attacker, to render the attacker unfit for battle, or to kill him. It does not have any function outside a military context. The grenade model in question is small and handy: 56mm in diameter, 105mm long, and weighs around 0.5 kilos. The grenade body is filled with TNT (100g).
The grenade has controlled fragmentation. It is smooth on the outside but has a grooved internal fragmentation surface. When the grenade is detonated, the parts are dislodged. It can rupture into both large and small fragments. The filler weight is 2.5 grams. There are 150 fragments, and they have a speed of 8,700 miles per second. If the hand grenade detonates on the ground and no object serves as a shield, there is a significant risk of fatal injury.
Semtex
Semtex is a type of plastic explosive that is composed of hydrogen and PETN. It is a doughlike mass that can be applied and
shaped according to the user’s needs. Plastic explosives have a function beyond military life, for instance for use during explosions in larger construction projects. Semtex, manufactured by Semtin Glassworks, is delivered as a cartridge in a paper casing. The plastic explosive has a detonation speed of 4,800 miles per second and a density of 1.5 kg/dm3.
A detonator that has been secured on a fuse is commonly used to detonate the plastic explosive. The plastic explosive is difficult to start, which normally provides a high level of safety. However, in the event of a release of force—such as when a hand grenade explodes—the plastic explosive is ignited and detonates immediately.
PROCEEDINGS AT THE EVENT IN QUESTION
The most likely sequence of events is that the perpetrator replaced the pin in the hand grenade with a piece of wire that had been inserted under the catch. Then the perpetrator applied the plastic explosive under and on top of the grenade and placed it in front of the car’s right front wheel, where the wire was placed so that it jutted out diagonally against the wheel. This was done very quickly. Most probably the perpetrator needed to pass the car and bend down in order to place the grenade with the applied plastic explosive in place. When the car was started and rolled forward, the tire pressed the wire aside, and after two seconds, the grenade and the plastic explosive were detonated. The explosion happened in a spot on the underside of the back of the car, since the car was able to roll about six feet prior to the detonation.
An alternative course of events is that the perpetrator rolled in or threw the grenade with the plastic explosive under the car from a few yards’ distance. However, this scenario would have put the perpetrator in grave personal danger at the time of the attack. It also does not explain the traces of wire that have been found farther off at the scene of the crime.
A grenade of this kind and make without applied plastic explosives would, with great probability, have had difficulty breaking through the car’s undercarriage with such force that a driver or a passenger sustained fatal injuries. Therefore the use of plastic explosives points to a perpetrator with solid knowledge of explosives, their power, and their directive explosive force.
Colorful lanterns were dangling from the trees. An Usher song swayed in the background.
Tom was back from Bangkok’s casinos. It’d gone to hell, of course—after ten days he was dry-cleaned and folded, more in the red than a Muslim in flight school post 9/11. Had to take the minibus back to Pattaya—Jorge had to book the bus
and
pay for it.
Still, Jorge dug that Tom’d returned. Lehtimäki was the only one who wasn’t sulking.
“I met a dude who’s gonna teach me to cheat with dice. It’s a big business down there. Dice, I mean,” Tom said, and pretended to throw a set of dice onto the table.
Jorge laughed. “Lehtimäki, you’re
loco
, man. You never give up.”
“I’ll give you four to one that I’ll make it big on this dice thing,” Tom said.
“I’ll give you eight to one that you’re gonna get ripped off,” Jorge shot back.
Babak—awake for once—interjected, “Ey Jorge, you seem to know a lot about ripping people off.”
Silence around the table. At that precise moment there was no music blaring from the speakers in the joint. Just the sound of the waves as they crashed against the beach. Washed up like the shitty mood.
Jorge knew: the same images in everyone’s heads. The chopped-up security bags on the floor of the apartment. Next to them, in piles: less than a skimpy two and half million. After they divided it up: they were gonna feel flat broke. And still they didn’t understand the full meaning of what Babak was alluding to when he said “ripping people off.”
There’d been trouble back there in the apartment. Javier had complained. Robert just sat down, his hands in front of his face. Jimmy whined. Babak freaked for real: started messing with Mahmud. Demanded
a bigger cut. The risk he’d taken. How they never would’ve been able to do it without the Range Rover.
The only one who didn’t say anything was the Finn’s guy. He just gathered up the Finn’s cut. Shoved the bills into two duffels. Maybe he realized that no one, not even the insider, could’ve known how many bags or how much money there would be. That the only thing left to do was lick your wounds and prepare the next hit.
After the dude left: the fighting started up for real. Close to Chernobyl. Babak really went apeshit. Shoved Mahmud and Jorge. Tom and Robert had to restrain him. Everyone was pissed. Everyone was screaming. Everyone was complaining about their share.
Jorge kept his cool—sooo scared that Babak would say something about the bags he’d ferreted away.
It didn’t help that Jorge promised to pay for their flights abroad. That he said he would have a talk with the Finn about it. Finally: Jorge cut back on his own share—gave each person thirty large extra.
And now here in Thailand: Babak was bitching again. Punches’d hung in the air at least ten times since they’d arrived in Pattaya. But still: Jorge didn’t want to rumble with Babak.
“You gonna answer, or what?” Babak went on. “Who really ripped who off around here, huh? I took the biggest fucking risk of everybody, right? We used my car.”
“We fucking had to—the wheel loader’d been towed by whoever owned it!”
“Yeah, I know they found it, but I’m the only one who’s wanted for this, right?”
Babak suddenly fell silent.
Jorge looked up. Realized immediately: something was outa whack.
Two dudes were standing by their table. One Thai guy and one who looked Eastern European.
They said something to Mahmud in shitty English. Jorge did a rapid read: these were the people who were complaining that his buddy’d sold weed.
The Eastern guy took a step forward. “You gotta pay—you broke rules here. Try to take from our market.”
Mahmud, in even shittier English: “What you talkin’ about? I not done nothing like that.”
The Thai dude positioned himself next to the Eastern dude, who leaned down over the table. “You gotta pay. That’s it. We know you moved in here. And I don’t give a fuck what you say. Tomorrow, latest, twelve o’clock. We come to your hotel.”
Mahmud tried to protest again.
The dudes were already walking away from the table.
Mahmud got up. Followed them. The Arab: not a boy people could just walk over.
Five yards from the table. He overtook them. The Eastern guy turned around.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Mahmud said.
Jorge looked around. Saw the waitresses standing still over by the bar. Their dark eyes: wide. He followed their gazes. Farther off, by the entrance to the place: five Thai guys. Their style spoke for itself. Not big, no particular colors or clothes. Still, he clocked right away—knew enough about Thailand to see the small scars in their faces, the tattoos on their hands, the boots on their feet.
Jorge rose. Walked after Mahmud. Grabbed his shoulder. Held him back.
Said, “Okay, okay. My friend’s gonna pay. Don’t worry. Tomorrow at twelve, at the latest. You got my word.”
Mahmud tried to say something in Swedish. Jorge, his voice sharp: “No, later.”
The Russian or whatever he was seemed satisfied. They walked away.
Slow steps. Obvious control. Sending deliberate signals.
Tomorrow, at noon.
Later that night: Jorge was walking on the beach, along the water’s edge. The other guys’d gone somewhere else. To their favorite strip joints, gambling dens, girls of the week.
He didn’t understand what was happening. His brain checked out when he was with the others. He needed to be alone in order to think. Work things out. Make up his mind. What the fuck was he gonna do?
He read Swedish newspapers online every day. There had been big headlines at home in the days immediately following the hit.
A NEW HELICOPTER ROBBERY. ROBBERS TRICK THE POLICE ONCE AGAIN. GUARD INJURED AFTER ROBBERY
.
He thought it would calm down. The booty was small, after all. The media should catch on: there was nothing sexy about pocket money.
But then:
GUARD IN CRITICAL CONDITION. RUTHLESSS ROBBERS. GUARD LOSES HIS EYESIGHT AND WILL BECOME WHEELCHAIR BOUND. FAMILY AND NATION IN SHOCK
.
It was twisted. The fucking guard who’d been standing closest to the explosion: seriously wounded. Almost died.
Now: in a whole other league. Aggravated assault. Aggravated robbery, definitely. Attempted murder?
Joder
—they never should’ve bothered with that vault. They’d been too rushed because of the fiasco with the wheel loader. Maybe the Finn’d received the blueprints with too little time to spare, hadn’t had time to really check what explosive charge would work. Fucking Finn.
Idiots
.
What’s more, Babak was wanted and arrested in absentia—that’s what the papers said, even if they didn’t mention him by name. And in the latest article Jorge’d read, the cops hinted at what they were up to.
* * *
Today police confirmed that the technical analysis of one of the suspected getaway vehicles has yielded some results. The getaway car, a Range Rover, was also used to force open the gate at Tomteboda’s postal terminal. The car, which was found aflame in a wooden area in Helenelund, outside central Stockholm, has long been the police’s hottest lead.
Even though the Range Rover had been completely burned out, police technicians were able to secure certain traces from the backseat, which have now been subjected to analysis. The traces show DNA from persons with connections to the suspected perpetrator who has been arrested in absentia.
The police’s press officer, Björn Gyllinge, made the following statement about the discoveries:
“This confirms our theory that something must have gone wrong. Why else would the robbers have used a car that had obvious links to them? It also illustrates how far the new DNA techniques have been developed. What we’ve used is called LCN analysis and is very advanced.”
In LCN (Low Copy Number) DNA technique, samples with extremely small DNA traces are analyzed.
“We are able to use the technique on as few as ten cells,”
Jan Petterson, the laboratory manager at the national forensic lab, told
Aftonbladet
.
“All it takes is for someone to put a palm against a window, and we will be able to trace the DNA in the grease from the hand. It’s almost like science fiction. But I want to add that we also have other evidence that ties the suspect to the robbery. We can’t go into further detail at this time, as doing so could interfere with the investigation.”
