Project Nirvana (38 page)

In her pocket, she had the memory card from the CCTV camera that had been aimed at her and Wilhelmsson. She was going to let Jörgen copy the contents before putting it back. But she would have to be careful; Forensics would soon be arriving at the scene and they would impound all the cameras. She was wearing leather gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints.

Jörgen was getting his reward for helping her follow Martin Borg. As long as their loosely associated team produced some benefits, Walter wanted it to continue. If Jörgen did get a visit from his police colleagues, then he could always hide behind the confidentiality of his sources. Perhaps this evening, the tabloids’ front pages would be dominated by a picture of Jonna and Wilhelmsson.

She spotted the car with Jörgen behind the wheel. “Make a copy of this,” she said, as she sat in the passenger seat.

Jörgen eagerly grabbed the memory card and plugged it into his laptop. “What’s on here?” he asked.

“My picture,” Jonna smiled.

“Is that a joke?”

“Not at all,” answered Jonna, watching while a gallery of images appeared on the screen.

“Who took these images?”

“A motion-activated CCTV camera. If you walk in front of the camera, it sends an image to a mobile phone. They are often used by hunters.”

“So who’s getting these images?”

“Don’t know yet,” said Jonna. “But the building was surrounded by cameras.” She had seen an image taken from the spycam’s perspective that showed herself and Wilhelmsson, as well as half the SWAT team, with all their weapons drawn. The image had “news story” written all over it.

“Damn!” Jörgen exclaimed. “This is the picture of the year and I haven’t even touched my camera yet.”

“Do as you please, as long as you guarantee complete confidentiality,” Jonna said.

“Of course.”

Jonna took the memory card from his laptop as soon as the images had been copied.

“What was the reason for the raid?”

“We’re not sure yet.”

“You don’t know? But I need a story to go with the picture,” Jörgen said. “Is it anything to do with the cop that Miguel followed?”

“Most likely,” Jonna said, looking tense.

“So what can I write?”

“That a police raid was carried out outside Örebro on a building that does not exist on any maps.”

“What do you mean?”

“Find the owner of the building and you’ll have a beginning to your story.”

Jonna got out of the car.

“What do you mean?” Jörgen repeated from inside the car. “What’s with the owner?”

“Let me know as soon as you have any leads. Then I’ll give you more information.”

Jonna hurried back along the road.

Although Jörgen didn’t understand her reason, he would put one of the newspaper’s researchers onto finding the owner. He would go to the city council offices in Örebro and go through the files to make sure nothing was missed. No one could hide completely, because of the transparency of Swedish bureaucracy. Least of all, a property owner. He would check with the local electricity company records first. In Sweden, electricity was an essential. He had no street address, however. Just the GPS co-ordinates, which indicated he was in an uninhabited area.

There must be a neighbour somewhere. If he was quick, he might find somebody to interview before the police did. He zoomed out his sat-nav map and examined it. No buildings were shown in the area. He zoomed out one more level and a house appeared in the top corner. It was approximately five kilometres northeast of his position. He started the car and drove off, wheels spinning in the gravel.

Walter looked at
the people around the huge oak table in the County CID situation room. The average age of the ten police officers was under thirty, but Walter’s presence pushed the average closer to forty. Soon Chief Prosecutor Åsa Julén and Anders Holmberg walked through the sturdy, wooden door accompanied by Thomas Kokk and Harald Morell. The average then jumped closer to pensionable age.

It was Walter’s boss, David Lilja, who closed the door. He nodded at Walter, who returned the acknowledgment. No one from Internal Affairs was present and Walter had a strange feeling in his gut. He didn’t like that feeling. It was the same feeling that he had had during the briefings after the murder of Prime Minister Olof Palme. He knew already that something was not right. It did not bode well to be summoned to a meeting with SÄPO and County CID that was so secret that not even the police top brass had been informed.

“We don’t know whom we are up against,” Holmberg began, burdened by the seriousness of the situation. “One thing we are sure of is that one of our agents is involved in criminal activity. We just don’t know who his associates are. A great deal of evidence seems to point the finger at colleagues within both the Security Service and the regular police force. This situation is unprecedented, and the measures I am taking are so unorthodox that they are almost outside the legal remit of this agency.”

The room was quiet.

Although everyone had been briefed prior to the meeting, the words of the Agency Director of the Security Service brought matters into the open. There was indeed an organization that seemed to have infiltrated every police authority. Perhaps its extent was even broader. Everyone else in the room had been selected because they had only a few years in the service. For once, that was an advantage. The risk of “corruption” increased with the number of years on the force. This team had been put together hurriedly from new recruits taken from both the regular and specialized law-enforcement agencies – something that would normally require approval by the highest levels in the police force.

For Walter, Jonna was the obvious choice as the newest member of his department. In addition, she was already involved in the mess surrounding Martin Borg.

Walter looked at the clock. He wondered how late she was running, a thought that vanished as she came through the door. Jonna made her apologies and sat in the chair next to Walter, looking stressed. She was short of breath.

“Did you take the stairs?” Walter whispered.

She gave him a sour look.

“Walter,” Kokk began, “if you start by explaining what County CID knows, then we at SÄPO can fill in the blanks for you.”

Fill in the blanks, Walter thought. True to form, SÄPO is telling us only what they need to share. He stood up from his chair and went to the whiteboard. Walter gazed at the group in the room. One could probably hear a pin drop. “We believe there is a connection between Martin Borg, Tor Hedman and Leo Brageler,” began Walter.

“Leo Brageler?” Kokk immediately interrupted him.

“Yes, we have identified that the same mobile-phone number has been used to communicate with Borg, Hedman, Alice McDaniel and Brageler.”

“Please elaborate,” Holmberg said curiously.

“Using historical data from the phone operators to triangulate locations, we have found a network of accounts on pre-paid SIM cards, which have been continuously replaced by new accounts,” Walter continued. “Each SIM card is used just a few times to avoid attracting attention and possible interception.”

“Sounds well planned,” Lilja commented.

“Yes, it is,” agreed Walter, “but it was the planning that gave them away. By constantly activating new pre-paid SIM cards, they got our, or rather Jonna’s, attention. Thanks to her initiative in analyzing all SIM-card transactions retrospectively, we have been able to pin-point and identify a base station with an unusually high number of new pre-paid SIM-card activations. We analyzed the position of these new SIM cards when they were activated and found that the majority of calls had come from the same area. In a densely populated area, this would not be unusual, but the location was remote. In actual fact, in a forested area outside Örebro, which later turned out to be a building. One that is not found on any map.

Once again, silence.

“And the Borg–Brageler connection?” asked Kokk.

“Jonna’s talent for numbers gave us a new link between Borg and Brageler, through Alice McDaniel. The same mobile phone was also used to contact Hedman. Therefore, we know that all four people have the same contact.”

All eyes turned to Jonna. According to Walter, it sounded as if she was running County CID all by herself.

“What association could Borg possibly have with Brageler?” asked Holmberg sceptically. “Hedman and Borg sound more likely, not that dealing with thugs is anything but normal procedure.”

“We don’t know for certain, but we can speculate,” said Walter, waving Jonna towards the whiteboard. He asked her to explain the events of the last few hours.

“The building outside Örebro may have held a captive,” Jonna began. “Forensics is in the process of securing evidence from one of the rooms in the building. We found a mattress and blankets, as well as traces of blood, and documents. The door to the room could be locked only from the outside, which indicates an involuntary guest.”

“What were the documents you found?” Lilja asked.

“Printouts of data . . . They were . . .” Jonna hesitated and looked down at the floor. Suddenly, she remembered something. What was it Alice McDaniel said? That instead of the actual documents, she had copied papers containing lots of Latin text? The scraps of paper they found on the floor of the room were exactly that.

“They were . . . what?” Walter prompted her.

“They were the documents which Alice McDaniel had fabricated and put in an envelope, according to her statement in her interview,” Jonna said. “Those documents have been found in the building.”

Another pause ensued.

“What is she talking about?” asked Holmberg, looking at Walter.

“That places Brageler in the building,” Kokk said, following Jonna’s line of reasoning.

“Not just that,” Jonna said. “I believe that he was held prisoner there.”

“Prisoner?” Lilja said.

“Yes,” Walter jumped in. “We don’t know how Borg and his gang got their claws into Brageler. Nor why he was imprisoned there, but I can make a guess.”

“They want Drug-X, of course,” said Kokk.

“But how did they manage to find Brageler?” Holmberg wondered.

“We’ll have to ask Borg,” Walter said. “Isn’t it time to bring him in now?”

Kokk shifted in his seat uneasily. “Yes, that would seem to be appropriate. But we’ve lost him,” he said. “He managed to shake off our surveillance.”

“Wonderful,” Walter said. “Then he must know that we’re onto him.”

“Presumably,” said Holmberg. “Either he’s been tipped off or he spotted the tails.”

“If he was warned, then the informant is sitting in this room,” Åsa Julén said in a stern voice.

Kokk looked dubious. “Most likely, he saw that he was being followed,” he said. “Given this group’s paranoid behaviour to date, that is a more likely scenario. Besides, like most SÄPO agents, he’s trained in surveillance techniques.”

“What about Hedman?” asked Lilja. “What is the Borg–Hedman connection?”

“We can only guess for the time being, but Gnesta is our hottest lead,” replied Walter. “There are no indications that they knew each other before the Gnesta incident. Hedman has used the same pre-paid SIM card for a longer period of time and we have been able to track the card’s call history. We can’t see any sign . . .”

“Omar,” Kokk suggested.

“Correct,” Walter answered. “If we analyze Omar’s contacts, we may find evidence that connects Hedman to Borg.”

“Yes,” Kokk agreed. “Borg was in Gnesta, as was Hedman, even if he claims otherwise. Hedman is probably the one who escaped in Omar’s car.”

“Which means that it was not the pizzeria owner, Vecdi Gönül, who shot Ove Jernberg,” Julén concluded.

“No, it seems not,” Kokk agreed. “Everything to the contrary is a red herring. Borg probably knows who killed Gönül, even if our Malmö colleagues suspect the nightclub mafia of the deed.”

“The main priority is to try to find Brageler,” Walter said. “His life is in danger. It may already be too late. We’ll break Hedman with a marathon interrogation.”

“What about the bank account that Alice McDaniel gave us?” Kokk asked, looking at Harald Morell.

“I’ve no reply yet. But we should know within the hour,” Morell said. “Our British counterparts are sticklers for procedure.”

“How about the Germans and their suspicions concerning Brageler?” Holmberg asked.

Walter looked at the table, thoughtfully.

“We don’t have the full picture yet,” he said. “There are some big pieces still missing.”

“Indeed,” Lilja said. “For example, who murdered Günter Himmelmann and the others in Germany. If not Brageler, then perhaps Borg and his gang.” Lilja looked for agreement from the others.

“It doesn’t add up, if we put the events on a timeline,” Walter objected. “Unless Borg was aware of Brageler’s plan to poison his victims from the start.”

“That’s a bit far-fetched,” said Jonna.

Walter agreed. “As I said, we have work to do, unless SÄPO has something to add.”

Kokk stood up. “No, we don’t have anything else. I suggest that we put places and people that are well-known to Borg and Brageler under surveillance. For example, BGR in Uppsala, Borg’s residence and his family, Brageler’s family, and so on. Even the grave where Brageler’s family is buried.”

Walter nodded in agreement.

There was a loud knocking and the door to the meeting room opened. A man entered, hurried to Kokk and whispered something in his ear. Kokk’s expression became increasingly troubled.

Chapter 21

Gunnar Tillenius’ first
day as a pensioner was spent outdoors. After thirty years as an engineer at a small, sheet-metal plant, he did not miss the clock, technical drawings or customer complaints. He just wanted to take a long walk and savour the joy of never having to set foot again on the premises of Setterwall & Sons engineering workshop. Never to hear Albert Setterwall shouting about how slow the workers were or his sons’ constant griping about the economy and how expensive it was to employ people in Sweden. That era had passed and, instead, Gunnar could look forward to spending the rest of his days in peace and quiet. He had made a thermos of coffee, which he had spiked with vodka, in a traditional coffee pot for this special day. Wrapped a few sandwiches in clingfilm and filled a bottle with water. With wellington boots on his feet and warm clothes on his back, he was ready to embark on his new life as a pensioner.