The Terrorists. Dennis Lehane
over eighteen months ago of murder in connection with armed robbery of a bank. The prosecutor in the case was my perhaps not-all-that-learned friend, Sten Robert Olsson, who at that time went under the title of Royal Prosecutor. I myself had the thankless and for my profession often morally burdensome task of defending Mauritzon, who undoubtedly was what we call in everyday speech a “criminal”. I would now like to ask one single question: Do you, Chief Inspector Beck, consider that Mauritzon was guilty of the bank robbery and the murder connected with it, and that the investigation presented by present counsel for the prosecution, Mr Olsson, was satisfactory from a police viewpoint?’
‘No,’ said Martin Beck.
Although Bulldozer's cheeks had suddenly taken on a pink hue which matched his shirt and enhanced even further his monstrous tie with its golden mermaids and hula-hula dancers, he smiled happily and said, ‘I, too, would like to ask a question. Did you, Chief Inspector Beck, take any part in the investigation of the murder at the bank?’
‘No,’ said Martin Beck.
Bulldozer slapped his hands together in front of his face and nodded in a self-satisfied way.
Martin Beck stepped down and went to sit beside Rhea. He rumpled her blonde hair, which won him a cross look. ‘I thought there'd be more than that,’ she said.
‘I didn't,’ said Martin Beck.
Watching them, Bulldozer Olsson's eyes were almost insane with curiosity. Crasher, however, appeared quite unaware of the situation. With his limping walk he had moved over to the window behind Bulldozer. In the dust on the pane he wrote the word IDIOT.
Then he said, ‘As my next witness I call Police Constable Karl Kristiansson.’
Kristiansson was shown in. He was an uncertain man who had lately come to the conclusion that the police force constituted a class system of its own, in which superiors behaved as they did, not to exploit anyone, but quite simply to make the lives of their subordinates hell.
After a long wait, Crasher turned around and began to walk back and forth across the room. Bulldozer did the same, but at quite a different pace, so that they looked like two somewhat peculiar sentries on duty. Finally, with a colossal sigh, Crasher began the interrogation.
‘According to my information, you've been a policeman for fifteen years.’
‘Yes.’
‘Your superior officers consider you lazy, unintelligent, but honest and generally as suitable – or unsuitable – as your other colleagues on the Stockholm Police Force.’
‘Objection! Objection!’ cried Bulldozer. ‘Counsel is insulting the witness.’
‘Am I?’ said Crasher. ‘If I were to say that the counsel for the prosecution, like a zeppelin, is one of the country's, yes even the world's most interesting and eloquent gasbags, there'd be nothing insulting about that, would there? Now I'm not saying that about the counsel for the prosecution, and as far as the witness is concerned, I am merely pointing out that he is an experienced policeman, as capable and intelligent as the other policemen who adorn our city. I'm just trying to bring out his excellent qualifications and good judgement.’
Rhea Nielsen laughed out loud. Martin Beck placed his right hand over her left one. She laughed even more loudly. The judge pointed out that spectators were expected to keep quiet, then turned to look irritably at the two lawyers. Bulldozer gazed so intently at Rhea that he almost missed the beginning of the interrogation.
Crasher, on the other hand, showed no reaction. He asked, ‘Were you first into the bank?’
‘No.’
‘Did you seize this girl, Rebecka Olsson?’
‘No.’
‘Rebecka Lind, I mean,’ said Crasher, after a few sniggers.
‘No.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I grabbed the other one.’
‘Were there two girls present at the robbery?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
Kristiansson pondered a moment. ‘So she wouldn't fall.’
‘How old was this other girl?’
‘About four months.’
‘And so it was Kvastmo who seized Rebecka Lind?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think you might say that he employed violence or excessive force in doing so?’
‘I don't understand what counsel for the defence is trying to get at,’ said Bulldozer banteringly.
‘I mean that Kvastmo, whom we all saw earlier today …’
Crasher rummaged for a long time among his papers. ‘Here it is,’ he said. ‘Kvastmo weighs over fourteen stone. He is, among other things, a specialist in karate and wrestling. He is regarded by his superiors as a keen and zealous man. Inspector Norman Hanson, who submitted the evidence, says however that Kvastmo is all too often overzealous on duty and that many of those taken into custody complain that Kvastmo used violence against them. The evidence also says that Kenneth Kvastmo has received various reprimands and that his ability to express himself leaves much to be desired.’
Crasher put down the document and said, ‘Would the witness now answer the question as to whether Kvastmo used violence.’
‘Yes,’ said Kristiansson. ‘You could say that.’ Experience had taught him not to lie where duty was concerned, at least not too much or too often. Also, he disliked Kvastmo.
‘And you took custody of the child?’
‘Yes, I had to. She was carrying it in a sort of harness, and when Kvastmo was taking the knife away from her, she almost dropped the child.’
‘Did Rebecka offer any resistance?’
‘No. When I took the kid, she just said, “Careful you don't drop her!”’
‘That all seems clear enough,’ said Crasher. ‘I will return to the possible continued use of force later. Instead, I should now like to ask you about another matter –’
‘Yes,’ said Kristiansson.
‘Since no one from the special unit concerned with protecting the banks' money visited the scene of the crime,’ said Crasher and stopped short with an imperious look at the prosecutor.
‘We work day and night,’ said Bulldozer, ‘and this was considered an insignificant case, one of many.’
‘Which means that the initial interrogations were conducted by whatever police happened to be present,’ said Crasher. ‘Who spoke to the cashier?’
‘Me,’ said Kristiansson.
‘And what did she say?’
‘She said the girl came up to the counter with the kid in a harness and put her shoulder bag on the marble slab. The cashier saw the knife right away, so she started stuffing notes in the bag.’
‘Did Rebecka take out the knife?’
‘No, she had it in her belt. Around in the back.’
‘Then how could the cashier have seen it?’
‘I don't know. Yes, of course, she saw it afterwards when Rebecka turned around, and then she screamed, “A knife, a knife, she's got a knife!”’
‘Was it a sheath knife or a stiletto?’
‘No, it looked like a small kitchen knife. Like the kind you have at home.’
‘What did Rebecka say to the cashier?’
‘Nothing. At least, not right away. Then they said she laughed and said, “I didn't know it was so easy to borrow