Stone Coffin Part 30

"Perhaps it is a slang name?" Wanning said, at this point receiving help from Morales to find the right word.

"This is a company, not a soccer team. We have no nicknames here."

"We have certain statements from your Swedish friends," Wanning continued happily.

"Statements?"

Wanning pulled out a piece of paper that he quickly eyed before pushing it across the table.

"It has been translated into Spanish," he said.

De Soto did not pay any attention to the paper and simply pa.s.sed it along to his colleague.

"Perhaps there have been questionable actions, what do I know, but not due to a deliberate will to disobey either Swedish or Spanish law. We are in a particularly expansive period. I repeat, very expansive, and it is conceivable that small mistakes have been made. In which case we would of course correct this mistake."

A few seconds of silence followed as if to give those present a moment to evaluate this first admission from the head of UNA Medico. It was the same argument that Mortensen used, Lindell thought.

"We can not afford any illegalities," he went on. "The business is going so well that all resources are needed to develop the products and break into new markets. We have a promising new medicine that will be approved by the American FDA any day now. You understand that we would never risk this for a few paltry pesetas."

Lindell realized that they would not be able to get any further. De Soto was well prepared for their visit. Was that what Moya knew? Was that why he had been so willing to dispatch the cavalry?

She coughed. That appeared to be the way to get a word in edgewise in the a.s.sembled group.

"Can we get a list of your employees? And not just the ones who are working here right now. I would also like to see the names of those who worked here, let's say a year back in time."

"Of course," De Soto replied.

"Thank you," Lindell said.

"When was Cederen here last?" Haver asked.

The two men from UNA Medico exchanged glances. This was apparently a question they had not prepared for.

"We will have to review our records," De Soto said finally. "But I seem to recall it was sometime at the end of May."

"Did he mention anything about the Dominican Republic?" Haver continued.

They could detect a certain irritation in De Soto.

"As I said, we have no reason to discuss this country."

"But did Cederen bring it up?" Haver insisted.

"Not that I remember. He may have spoken about the Caribbean in general, and he must have known that I vacation there. He may have asked how it is for vacationing."

"When were you last in Sweden?"

Lindell wondered where Ola was going with this, but sensed that he was simply peppering the Spaniard with questions to wear him down.

"In May. We were both there in May," and nodded to his colleague. "It was a productive visit. Only good results."

"Who is the chief owner of the two companies?" Wanning broke in.

Switching off, Lindell thought, pleased.

"Cederen. Jack and I own a quarter each. The rest is spread across some twenty or so investors."

"Are they actively involved?"

De Soto shook his head. "They see the stocks as a good investment."

"What will happen to Cederen's portion?"

"According to our contract, Jack Mortensen and I have the right of preemption on Cederen's shares. If we are not interested, they will be offered to the rest of the stockholders according to the proportion of their current investment."

"And are you interested?" Haver asked.

"I have not considered this yet," De Soto answered.

Nonsense, Lindell thought. That was the first thing you thought of when you heard that he had died.

"Can you see any financial motives for the tragic events that occurred?"

"No," De Soto answered quickly, clearly somewhat off-kilter at the barrage. "Jack has told me that he has been deeply worried about his friend and business partner."

"We have some information that indicates that he did not take his own life," Lindell went on.

De Soto raised his eyebrows. "How is that possible?"

"We do not have all of the details," Lindell said and leafed through her notepad.

"Do you know if Cederen drank gin?" Haver said, jumping into the fray.

"No idea."

Now the irritation was very apparent. There was nothing left of the servile smile. He continued to answer politely but showed in his expression that he felt they were completely irrelevant.

Moya, who had long been quiet, suddenly leaned forward.

"Seor de Soto," he said, "I too have some information."

A tense silence followed. Moya resembled a tiger about to pounce.

"According to a secure source, or more precisely two sources, you have consorted with known criminal elements. Individuals that we from the police know very well. What do you say to this?"

This was a complete surprise to the Swedish detectives, and they realized that Moya had been waiting out De Soto. The Spanish commissioner was also not a novice to interrogations.

"What should I say? There are always rumors about successful companies and their leaders. That is probably also true of successful police chiefs, I imagine?"

Moya immediately countered this. Lindell observed with fascination that he appeared to feel right at home in the thickening atmosphere.

"Jaime Urbano," he said.

Lindell felt the reaction from Haver against her arm. He flinched but immediately took control of himself and pretended to hold back a sneeze. Well done, Lindell thought. She now knew that Haver had come across this name in his investigations.

"No," De Soto replied. "Is this one of your acquaintances?"

Moya sank back against his chair and gazed at De Soto with eyes that now had a completely different sharpness. Lindell understood the undertone of De Soto's comment. It was a veiled suggestion that perhaps Moya had connections that could not stand up to the light of day.

"He is an infamous killer," Moya said calmly. "From the beginning he was a simple thief and troublemaker, but now he is a fully accomplished killer. I believe that you have met. It may just be the case that you do not remember his name. He was paid four million pesetas by an unknown admirer only four weeks ago."

De Soto's gaze was unsteady. Lindell was enjoying herself immensely and Haver was feverishly jotting notes in his book.

"Urbano does nothing for free," Moya added. "In a way he is also a successful enterprise with possibilities for expansion. This is at least the view of his mother."

"I don't know anything about that," De Soto muttered. "I guard myself against a.s.sociating with his type."

There was a knock on the door and one of Moya's men appeared at the door, looked at his boss, and nodded.

Moya stood up, excused himself, and walked up to the young officer. They conferred in whispering tones and after a while left the room.

Moya returned after half a minute. He sat down again without giving any explanation for his departure. Everyone was now waiting for his word. He resumed his relaxed stance, turned toward Lindell, and smiled encouragingly.

How can thirty seconds feel so long, she thought, and smiled back.

"I am afraid that we will have to inconvenience you and your company for another couple of hours," the Spanish commissioner announced.

Lindell looked at Moya and saw that he liked the situation, not least the fact that he had surprised his Swedish guests. This could have been irritating, but Lindell was happy to give him this. She wanted him to enjoy this, and if he was acting unpredictably, then why not. This only added spice to the whole thing.

"We do have our production to consider," De Soto said, but it was an empty objection. He and Moya both knew this. The latter did not bother responding to it.

"We thank you for your cooperation," he said politely. "We will leave some ten officers here for a few hours. If we need to remove any materials from your company, then we will of course present the required legal doc.u.mentation to facilitate this."

De Soto knew that Moya had the upper hand and played along. He said something in Spanish and Moya cast an amused glance at him.

"Thank you for everything," Lindell said and grasped De Soto's hand energetically.

Haver shot her a look. "That's what it says on funeral wreaths," he said in Swedish.

"It may be a funeral we're witnessing," she answered.

They returned to the police headquarters in Plaza Azaa in silence. Moya appeared thoughtful. Lindell knew that he was reviewing his performance, perhaps testing his arguments and the solidity of the effort. She recognized this. The afterthoughts. Should we have done this a different way? What will the prosecutor say?

She had not understood all of the implications in the exchanges between Moya and De Soto. There was something more in all of this that Lindell did not grasp. She was irritated at not being fully briefed but calmed herself with the thought that this was only the beginning. It was a game. She and the other Swedes were only p.a.w.ns.

Had Moya used them for reasons she did not understand? What lay behind this ma.s.sive response from the Spanish authorities?

When they stepped out of the car at the station, Moya suggested that they eat dinner together. Lindell was exhausted. Trying to follow everything, to speak English and be smart, had taken its toll. What she wanted most of all was to stretch out on the hotel bed.

"With pleasure," she said and smiled her nicest smile.

They moved into the same conference room that they had been in before. King Juan Carlos on the wall looked far more satisfied now, Lindell thought.

"I have to ask you why you held back so much in the beginning," Lindell began. "You gave us the impression that you did not have the formal warrants necessary for a larger action against UNA Medico."

"I did not want to create all too great expectations," Moya said modestly. "It is better to be able to provide positive surprises."

"I recognize the name Jaime Urbano," Haver said.

Everyone looked at him in astonishment.

"That's why you reacted so strongly," Lindell said in Swedish.

"We have reviewed the pa.s.senger lists to both the Dominican Republic and Mlaga," Haver continued. "There are thousands of names, but we removed all of the ones that we thought were tourists, Swedish retirees who live on the Costa del Sol, and those traveling for health reasons. It was a little subjective, but we had to proceed in some manner. And still there were a thousand names left. Among them was Jaime Urbano."

"Why do you remember this name?" Moya asked.

"My neighbor's name is Urban," Haver said. "I thought it was a little funny that there was someone with the name Urbano as a last name. That was all it was."

"And Urbano traveled to Stockholm?"

Haver nodded.

"I don't remember when it was, but he is on the list," he said. "But perhaps there are many Urbanos?"

"Probably around one hundred in Mlaga alone," Moya said. "But not so many Jaime Urbanos. Are you sure of the first name?"

"Very," Haver said.

"Do you have the lists with you?"

"No, but if I can borrow your fax, we can get them shortly."

Arrabal recited his fax number.

Haver glanced at the clock, picked up his cell phone, and dialed.

Lindell feared that the dinner Moya invited them to would be at a fancy restaurant and eyed the clothes she had brought with her critically. But to her surprise they ended up at a casual joint in the shadow of the great cathedral. Because it was an outdoor cafe with a large number of people around the many tables, the noise level was high. Traffic on the narrow street sometimes made it hard to hear what was said, but Moya appeared to think that it was quite normal to take care of police matters in the midst of the noise and bustle.

Lindell stared up at the cathedral. She thought the building looked heavy, as if it was pressing down on the observer with its imposing, almost frightening facade that most resembled a fortress. She imagined that it gave a completely different impression from the inside.

Moya ordered food and drink as he chatted about Mlaga and asked about his Swedish colleagues' family lives. When Lindell explained that she lived alone, he gave her a look that was difficult to interpret but that she understood to be one of commiseration, as if she had confided that she suffered from a severe illness.

"We now know with certainty," Moya said when the food was on the table, "that Jaime Urbano-and it's very likely that he is our man-flew to Stockholm two days before Cederen's wife and child were killed, more exactly on the twelfth of June. Three days later he returned. On this trip he was accompanied by a certain Benjamin Olivares. A lowlife that we are also well acquainted with."