Stone Coffin Part 29

"Nice to have you here," he said and looked as if he meant it.

His colleague was older and looked considerably more b.u.t.toned up. He muttered a name and took a couple of steps back. What function he filled she did not know, but she imaged it was Mlaga's answer to Liselotte Rask, who was in charge of communications for the Uppsala police.

They were escorted up a flight of stairs. Antonio Moya spoke to them the whole time. He chivalrously led Lindell by the arm. They were brought to a small conference room.

"Coffee?" Moya asked.

All four of them accepted. A third police officer, also in civilian dress, joined them and was introduced to them as Max Arrabal.

The room was bare and reminded them of an interrogation room, just bigger. There was nothing here resembling a Swedish police conference room with its heterogeneous mixture of functional equipment and efforts toward coziness. Here the table and chairs were the main feature. The country's monarch gazed out over it all from his position on the wall.

After some introductory words, as coffee was brought in by a uniformed officer, Moya began an overview of MedForsk's Spanish partner firm, UNA Medico. He was clearly in command of his material and gave a competent impression. Lindell glanced at Haver and he smiled. They both felt excited. It was possible that there would be an opening in the Cederen-Mark case.

UNA Medico had been established in Mlaga eight years ago and quickly expanded. At first they had rented s.p.a.ce in an old shoe factory, but after only a couple of years they had built their own office and laboratory facilities.

They had around fifty employees and were known for treating them well. They also had a good working relationship with the city authorities, and the mayor of Mlaga had more than once expressed his satisfaction at the company's presence in the city. The pharmaceutical industry was a promising direction, he said. Moya also alluded to having an old school friend on the board of trustees of the firm.

Moya did not have many details regarding the partnership with the Swedish company other than that the Swedish flag would sometimes be hoisted outside UNA Medico offices.

Half of their employees were women, most of them in packing and warehouse. Although it was not a high-salaried workplace, there was no issue with retaining the workforce.

The fact that the Spanish police had been able to gather this much information in less than twenty-four hours impressed Lindell.

Moya went on to say that UNA Medico had managed their affairs without any problems. Earlier in the year they had received a development grant from the European Union of 250,000 euros for further investments. These had to do with making environmental improvements and developing international contacts. The pharmaceutical industry was becoming more internationalized, and UNA Medico, which was a small company, had to find partners.

If anything illegal had taken place with MedForsk, then this was nothing that the Spanish authorities knew about or had reason to investigate, although of course they wanted to a.s.sist their Swedish colleagues.

"It will be a pleasure for me to collaborate with you," Moya finished and let his gaze slowly travel around the table and come to rest on Lindell.

I wonder what his words are worth, she thought, but smiled politely. She opened her notebook, which was newly purchased for this trip, and gave an account of the reasons that MedForsk was an object of interest for her team. When she described how Josefin and Emily Cederen had been mowed down by an unknown driver, she heard a sigh, or rather a groan, from Moya. Lindell looked up and Moya's expression clearly communicated his anguish.

Lindell's prepared remarks took fifteen minutes. No one interrupted her, and when she was done, a rare silence spread in the room.

"More coffee?" Moya asked.

Lindell glanced first at Haver and then at Bosse Wanning as if to seek their support. Haver accepted the offer. Wanning stared down at his hands, which rested on the table.

"Very good," Moya said enthusiastically. "A very informative account, thank you."

Lindell felt herself blushing.

More coffee was brought in and Wanning immediately perked up. Maybe he's tired, Lindell thought. But he should still look more engaged.

"We have the following suggestion," Moya said as they sipped their strong coffees. "We have no clear cause to walk right into UNA Medico and start searching through their papers and affairs. We would need a warrant for this, as you understand. We are working on that. However, we can even now begin conversations with the company executives and hear their views on the irregularities of the Swedish company. We will then get a good sense of their willingness to cooperate."

"Have they been told that we are coming?" the data expert, Antonio Morales, asked in Spanish.

"Oh, my beautiful mother tongue," Moya exclaimed and smiled broadly. "What a surprise. No, of course they have no knowledge of anything.

"You hurt my feelings," he added and humorously adopted an aggrieved expression.

Morales inclined his head lightly and said something in Spanish. Moya answered his stream of words with a smile and a barely noticeable gesture of his head as he simultaneously moved one hand in a slow arc to the side.

Latin men, Lindell thought. Moya turned back to her.

"I suggest that you check into your hotel, rest, and perhaps eat something. Then-let us say at three-we can go to UNA Medico. Does that sound acceptable?"

"Shouldn't we try to go earlier?"

"No, here we work late," Moya said.

Mlaga Palacio lay on what Lindell a.s.sumed was the main street of the city, Alameda Princ.i.p.al. Outside the hotel was a big park, and a couple of blocks to the north lay the grand cathedral.

Lindell had read a little of the city, its history and sights. She knew that it was over twenty-five hundred years old and had been in Arab hands for over seven hundred of those.

"Seven hundred years," she said to Haver as they sat on a bench in the park. "That's like if Uppsala would have been under Russian or German rule since the 1300s. That would leave traces on people, on the culture, on everything."

"Mmm," said Haver, who was studying the map.

"Pica.s.so was born here," he added.

"Yes, well, there's that typical Arabic influence," Lindell said. Haver looked up and smiled.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked.

"Do I feel okay? Yes, of course."

"You've just seemed a little down lately," Haver said and put the map down.

"There's been a lot going on," Lindell said.

She stared at the pigeons that were gathering en ma.s.se around an old man on the opposite side of the little open s.p.a.ce where they were sitting.

"It's nice to get away for a little while," he said. "But I'm wondering what we're going to get out of it. If we can't review their accounts and correspondence, how are we going to find anything of value? We're completely in the hands of the company."

"I know, but I see it like this: The solution to the case is in Sweden-I'm convinced of that-but if we stir the pot down here, something may bubble up at home."

"That's a humble hope," Haver said.

A mother with a stroller walked by. He followed her with his gaze.

"I'm having a little trouble reading Moya," Lindell said.

"There's some of your Arabic influence right there," Haver said and nodded at the woman with the child. Her abundant hair swirled like dark smoke around her head.

At a quarter to three, a civilian car pulled up in front of the hotel entrance. It was the same driver from the morning. Lindell noted that he had changed his shirt.

Inside the car-a large Toyota-were Mora and Arrabal. The trip took them to an industrial area at the edge of the city, not far from the airport. Lindell thought she read "Guadalhorce" on a sign as they turned off from the highway. A train came rattling along the tracks parallel to the road. They took a right after a train station, went another couple of blocks, and then turned to the left. The car slowed down and glided past a row of police cars. Moya raised his hand in greeting as they moved to the front, like a presidential motorcade.

"That's quite a backup," Lindell commented and turned toward the smiling Moya.

"It's good to make a gesture," he replied. "So that they see that we are serious."

Lindell was struck by the thought that perhaps Moya was using his Swedish visitors and the coming strike for his own purposes. She glanced at Haver and was about to say something when Moya pointed and said something to the driver. He pulled in between some gateposts and up to a redbrick building. The row of police cars followed them like goslings.

UNA Medico was written in large letters on a copper sign, with MedForsk written in smaller letters underneath. An old man with a broom in his hand watched the invasion of cars with wide eyes. He pulled off his cap and in this way marked the spectacular nature of the event.

Moya walked confidently up to the front door. One of the civilian-clad officers took out a camera and snapped a photo of the chief as he put his hand on the handle. Now there was nothing pleasant in Moya's expression; he looked more like a field marshal.

Police chiefs are alike everywhere, Lindell thought. Soon our own little police chief will preside at all strikes, powdered and uniformed, as the camera flash blinds the gaping public.

The rest of the officers spread out and disappeared behind the corner of the building. About ten followed Moya and the Swedes through the main door.

The Spanish-Swedish delegation was met in the reception area by two middle-aged men. They were dressed in a way that in Sweden would have been categorized as extremely flashy. One of them was markedly short. This was the one who stepped forward and set his sights on Moya as if he already knew him or perhaps realized who was in charge.

"Welcome to UNA Medico," he said heartily and introduced himself as Francisco Cruz de Soto.

Had they been expected after all? This thought went through Lindell's mind when she could not discern a trace of surprise in De Soto's face. Instead he displayed a polite helpfulness, not effusive, but without any guardedness.

"We are here to investigate certain issues pertaining to your company activities," Moya said directly, and Morales translated for the Swedes.

"We have also brought some Swedish colleagues," Moya went on, and now he switched to English.

De Soto immediately walked up to the four northerners and shook their hands. He started with Lindell. It was not clear if this was because she was a woman or the leader.

"Pleased to meet you," he said four times, and each time it sounded genuine.

"We will need immediate access to your accounts, books, employee records, calendars, and correspondence," Moya continued and fished a piece of paper out of his inner pocket. "Here is the warrant," he said.

De Soto paid no attention to the doc.u.ment.

"We will cooperate with you regardless of the matter at hand," he said and turned to Lindell.

He knows what this is about, she thought.

Within a quarter of an hour, a handful of police officers were installed in the company offices. Moya, Arrabal, and De Soto plus a couple of UNA Medico employees and the four Swedes went into a conference room. Within a couple of minutes, coffee, soda, and beer appeared on the table.

Moya began with a long speech about the seamless and long-standing tradition of cooperation between the Swedish and Spanish police. He managed to squeeze in something about the European Union as well and how international police cooperation was developing still further, not least with the help of technology.

De Soto listened calmly to this lecture. When the police chief was done, De Soto repeated his a.s.surances that they would not meet any resistance from the company.

Moya glanced at Lindell and she realized that it was her turn. She had prepared her statement and related the events that had occurred in Uppsala.

"We believe," she said as she wrapped up, "that certain answers to these events may be found here in Mlaga."

"And which might those be?" De Soto immediately asked.

"Certain financial transactions that appear irregular," Lindell said, and now most of her nervousness had disappeared. "We have reason to believe that relatively large amounts of money have disappeared from MedForsk and possibly ended up here or in a third-world country. We also have some questions regarding the Dominican Republic. There has been a purchase of land there and possibly some other transactions that we find puzzling."

De Soto made an attempt to interrupt, but Lindell went on.

"Finally," she said, "I am sure that you are aware that the head of research at MedForsk, Sven-Erik Cederen, is dead, as are his wife and young daughter. The latter were brutally murdered."

"Yes, we have heard of this and are deeply saddened, but from what we understand this was a family tragedy that has nothing to do with MedForsk or us. Sven-Erik Cederen was an excellent researcher and friend, but apparently he became overwhelmed by madness-to put this plainly," De Soto said.

"Is the name Julio Pieda familiar to you?" Haver asked abruptly.

A look of irritation flashed across De Soto's face, but he immediately answered in the negative.

"Have you ever been to the Dominican Republic?" Lindell asked.

"Yes, on two occasions. Both times with my wife and children. It is a beautiful country."

"You have no business there?"

"No, the political situation is too uncertain. Also, there is insufficient developed infrastructure and access to a well-trained workforce."

"So what did you do there?" Haver asked.

"Vacation," De Soto said curtly.

The h.e.l.l it was, Lindell thought, and she could see the skepticism in Haver's face.

"And you have no plans of conducting any business there?"

"No, as I told you. The Dominican Republic is of no interest to us." Bosse Wanning from Financials had sat quietly to this point, but now he coughed and all eyes turned to him. Lindell was grateful for his initiative. It was challenging to undertake an interrogation in English and she felt pressure to be extra smart. In part because De Soto was so polished and in part because she wanted to make a good impression on foreign soil.

"We have identified a transaction from the Swedish firm to a country in the Caribbean," Wanning began. "I'm sure you are familiar with this affair."

He paused as if he was waiting for an objection from De Soto, who was calmly awaiting the rest.

"What comments do you have on this matter?"

"No comment, as is the standard phrase," De Soto said and smiled. "We simply are not familiar with it. Isn't that right?" he said and turned to one of his colleagues, who made an expressive gesture with his arms.

"But we have found a fax that contradicts your statement," Wanning said in a mild voice.

Lindell knew that he could be as sharp as a razor blade-quite mean-when he chose to be so.

"A fax from where?"

"From this office," Wanning said without looking up as he leafed through his papers.

"It was signed Pedro," he added.

"We have a Pedro, perhaps a couple, but they work in production and have nothing to do with the management," De Soto said, still calm.