Martin Beck: The Locked Room Part 10

'Filip Faithful Mauritzon.'

'Is it a name you're ashamed of?'

'Truth to tell, I've been inside once or twice, a long time back. One gets to be known by the name one was convicted under. You know how it is.'

'Sure.'

'People get to know you've been inside, and then the cops come to check up... Sorry, the police, I mean.' 'Don't worry. I'm not touchy.'

For a while Jacobsson said nothing. Mauritzon cast ah anxious glance up at the clock on the wall. 'I didn't get caught for anything serious, really,' he said. 'Just receiving a few stolen goods, fixing, possession of firearms, and so on. A breaking-and-entering job. But that was ten years ago.'

'So you've been good since then, have you?' Jacobsson said. 'Become a better person, perhaps? Or just learned a few more tricks?'

Mauritzon's reply to this was a rather crooked smile.

Jacobsson wasn't smiling at all. He said: 'What are you driving at, really?'

'I don't want to go inside.'

'But you've been inside already. And when all's said and done it isn't all that serious, is it? This town's full of people who've been inside. I meet them every day. A couple of months' rest, that never hurts.'

Mauritzon had a strong feeling it was no brief holiday that he was facing. He surveyed his fateful groceries and thought how if he really was arrested, the cops would soon be poking their noses into all sorts of matters and come across one thing or another, maybe; and that wouldn't be nice at all. On the other hand he had a fair amount of capital stowed away in certain banks abroad. And if he could slip out of his present quandary he'd lose no time in quitting first this town and then the country. After which everything would sort itself out. Anyway he was planning to retire from his line of business. He intended to finish with p.o.r.nography and drugs. Nor did he have any great desire to go on being an errand boy, however well paid, for people like Malmstrom and Mohren. Instead he intended to get into the dairy business. Smuggling Danish b.u.t.ter into Italy was amazingly profitable. Moreover it was virtually legal; its only real risk lay in the possibility of being liquidated by the Mafia. Which was no small risk either, come to think of it. Anyway the time had come to resort to extraordinary methods. Mauritzon said: 'Who's in charge of bank robberies?'

'Bulldo -' Jacobsson let slip.

'Bulldozer Olsson,' said Mauritzon at once.

'District Attorney Olsson,' said Jacobsson. 'You thinking of gra.s.sing?'

'I might be able to give him some information.' 'Couldn't you just as well give this information to me?' 'It's a rather confidential matter,' Mauritzon said. 'I'm sure a brief phone call is all that's needed.'

Jacobsson considered this. He knew the National Police Commissioner and his a.s.sistants had declared bank robberies to be of prime importance. The only crime that could be considered more serious was throwing eggs at the United States amba.s.sador. He drew the telephone towards him and dialled the direct number to the special squad's headquarters on Kungsholmen. Bulldozer himself answered.

'Olsson speaking.'

"This is Henrik Jacobsson. We've arrested a pusher, who claims he has something to say.' 'About the bank robberies?' 'Apparently.' 'I'll be right there.'

And he was. Bulldozer entered the room stooping with enthusiasm. A brief conversation ensued.

'What is it you want to talk about, Mr Mauritzon?' asked Bulldozer.

'Would you happen to be interested in a couple of guys called Malmstrom and Mohren?'

'Indeed,' said Bulldozer. 'Yes indeed.' He licked his lips, tremendously interested. What exactly do you know, Mr Mauritzon?'

'I know where Malmstrom and Mohren are.'

'Right now?'

'Yes.'

Bulldozer rubbed his hands excitedly. Then he said, as if struck by an afterthought: 'I presume you want certain concessions, Mr Mauritzon?'

'I'd prefer to discuss the whole matter in more agreeable surroundings.'

'Hmm,' said Bulldozer. 'Would my office on Kungsholmsgatan be more agreeable?'

'Sure thing,' said Mauritzon. 'But I expect, Mr District Attorney, you'll have to talk the matter over with this gentleman here?'

Jacobsson's face as he had followed the discussion had been expressionless.

'Right,' said Bulldozer eagerly. We must have a little chat, Jacobsson. Can we talk in private?' Jacobsson nodded resignedly.

18.

Jacobsson was a practical man. He took the matter coolly. His acquaintance with Bulldozer Olsson was superficial, but on the other hand he knew him by reputation. And that was reason enough to give up the fight before it even began.

The scene was simple. A cold room with a desk, two chairs, and a filing cabinet - not even a carpet on the floor. Jacobsson sat quite quietly at his desk.

Bulldozer rushed to and fro, head down, hands clasped behind his back. 'Just one important technicality,' he said. 'Is Mauritzon under arrest?'

'No. Not yet'

'Perfect,' said Bulldozer. 'Splendid. Then we hardly need discuss the matter.' 'Maybe not'

'If you like we could contact the National Commissioner... the Commissioner and the Chief Superintendent, too?'

Jacobsson shook his head. He knew all about the potentates in question.

'Then the matter's clear?' said Bulldozer. Jacobsson didn't reply.

'You did well to nab him. You know who he is and can keep an eye on him. For the future.'

Yes. I'll have a word with him.' 'Splendid.'

Jacobsson went up to Mauritzon, looked at him for a moment, then said: 'Well, Mauritzon, I've thought the matter over. You were given that bag by a stranger and were to hand it over to another stranger. Such things do happen sometimes in this business. It would be difficult to prove you're not telling the truth, so there's no need to arrest you.'

'I see,' said Mauritzon.

'Of course we'll keep the goods. We're a.s.suming you acted in good faith.'

'Are you letting me go?'

Yes, providing you put yourself at Bull -... District Attorney Olsson's disposal.'

Bulldozer must have been listening at the door. It flew open and he entered headlong. 'Come along,' he said.

'Right away?'

'We can talk at my place,' said Bulldozer.

'Sure,' said Mauritzon. 'It'll be a pleasure.'

'That I'll promise you,' said Bulldozer. 'So long, Jacobsson.'

Jacobsson said nothing. He looked after them vacantly. He was accustomed to this sort of thing.

Ten minutes later Mauritzon was indisputably the central figure at the special squad's headquarters. He sat down in the most comfortable chair that could be found as an ill.u.s.trious group of detectives thronged about him.

Kollberg stared at his shopping list and said: 'One dozen pairs of briefs and fifteen pairs of socks. Who's supposed to use all that?'

'Mohren'll take two pairs, and the other guy the rest, I reckon.'

'Does this Malmstrfim eat underclothes?'

'I suppose not; but he always throws away the old ones when he changes. He likes a special kind, too. French ones. They're only obtainable at Morris's.'

'No wonder he has to rob banks, with habits like that!'

Ronn, very inquisitive: 'By the way, what's an astrolabe?'

'A sort of antique s.e.xtant, though different,' Gunvald Larsson replied. Then he, too, contributed a question: 'Why do two men need four Donald Duck masks?'

'Don't ask me. They've got two already anyway. I bought those last week.'

Ronn said thoughtfully: 'Yes, what's the meaning of "six boxes nine"?'

'A special kind of contraceptive,' said Mauritzon wearily. 'When . you put them on they look something like batons, with dark blue uniforms and pink snouts.'

'Stop fussing about that bit of paper now,' Bulldozer Olsson said good-naturedly. 'And Mr Mauritzon does not have to contribute to the entertainment. We can provide our own.'

'Can we?' asked Kollberg gravely.

'No, let's get down to bra.s.s tacks, instead,' said Bulldozer, clapping his hands as if to inspire enthusiasm. Challengingly he surveyed his forces. Kollberg, Ronn, and Gunvald Larsson apart, the squad consisted of two younger detective sergeants, an expert on tear gas, a computer man, and an utterly incompetent constable named Bo Zachrisson. Everybody always felt they could dispense with him, so he was suitable for all sorts of special groups, even in these times when personnel were in such desperately short supply.

Neither the National Police Commissioner nor any other top bra.s.s had been seen or even heard from since their weird film show, a feet for which they were all grateful.

'Now we'll rehea.r.s.e,' said Bulldozer. 'At six o'clock exactly Mauritzon will ring the doorbell. May we hear the signal once more?'

Kollberg tapped the table.

Mauritzon nodded. 'Right,' he said.

And then he qualified it: 'At least it sounds right'

First a very short signal, immediately followed by a long one, pause, four short, pause, one long, followed directly by a very short one.

'I'll never be able to learn that tune,' Zachrisson said dejectedly.

'We'll have to try and find you some other task, then,' said Bulldozer.

'What might that be?' asked Gunvald Larsson. He was the only member of the squad who had made any previous attempts at collaboration with Zachrisson. They hadn't been especially successful.

'What am I to do, then?' asked the computer man.

'Yes. Actually, I've been wondering about that ever since last Monday,' said Bulldozer. 'Who sent you here?'

'Hard to say. It was some superintendent who called.'

'Maybe you could work something out,' said Gunvald Larsson. 'How to win the pools, for instance.'

'That's impossible,' said the expert gloomily. 'I've I been trying every week for a year.'

'Let's think ourselves into the situation,' Bulldozer said. 'Who's going to ring the bell?'

'Kollberg,' said Gunvald Larsson.

'Right. Perfect Malmstrom opens. He expects to see Mauritzon with the astrolabe and underwear and all the rest of it Instead he sees...'

'Us,' said Ronn grimly.

'Exactly,' said Bulldozer. 'Both he and Mohren'll be utterly perplexed. They'll be quite simply outwitted. Imagine the look on their faces!' He trotted about the room, smiling smugly. 'And imagine how dumbfounded Roos'll be! Checkmate in one move.' For a moment Bulldozer, envisaging these perspectives, appeared overwhelmed. But he quickly pulled himself together and went on: 'The only problem is that Malmstrom and Mohren'll be armed.'

Gunvald Larsson gave an indifferent shrug.

'That doesn't matter too much,' said Kollberg. If it came to blows, both he and Gunvald Larsson could put up a pretty good fight, and anyway Malmstrom and Mohren probably wouldn't put up any opposition when they saw the size of their foe.

Bulldozer interpreted Kollberg's thoughts correctly and said: 'We mustn't forget they may be desperate and try to shoot their way out. That's where you come in.' He pointed at the tear-gas expert, who nodded. We'll also have a man with a dog ready outside the door,' Bulldozer said. 'The dog attacks...'

'How does that fit in?' said Gunvald Larsson. 'Is the d.a.m.n dog going to wear a gas mask?'

'Bright idea,' Mauritzon said.

Everyone stared at him dubiously.

'So,' said Bulldozer. 'First possibility: Malmstrom and Mohren try to resist, but, attacked by the dog and rendered harmless by tear gas, they are overpowered.'

'Both at once,' said Kollberg sceptically.

But now Bulldozer was in full flight and was not concerned with objections. 'Second possibility: Malmstrom and Mohren don't put up any resistance. The police, guns at the ready, force their way into the apartment and surround them.'

'Not me,' said Kollberg. He refused, on principle, ever to carry arms.