Cop Killer (24 page)

'Thanks.'

'That's where we put cases that are really serious.' 'And really privileged?' 'Yes, you might say that'

He looked at her calves and knees. He couldn't help it She was wearing a brassiere under her white coat.

'You can talk to them if you want to,' she said. 'But not for long. Elofsson's in worst shape, but I think Hector's going to be in bed for a longer time.'

'I'll be brief.'

"The chief surgeon performed the operations himself. Four in a row. I don't think they would have made it otherwise. At least not Elofsson.'

The room was a demonstration of the fact that the police do not forget their wounded. There were masses of flowers, chocolates, fruit, a radio, and a colour TV.

Of the two, Hector seemed the more alert, although he had his left arm and both legs in traction.

Elofsson was attached to four different intravenous drips at once - one with blood and three with liquids of various other colours. He was a big, ponderous man with heavy features and a dull expression that was probably due to his condition.

Kollberg introduced himself. He had the feeling he had met Elofsson somewhere. He had never seen Hector before, but his appearance was typical of today's younger policemen, if appearances can ever be called typical.

He felt he ought to express his condolences, even though everyone else already had, from the Chief of Police all the way down to every constable who happened to be in the vicinity.

'It's a damned shame, lying here in the hospital like this,' he said, prosaically.

'Our time hadn't come yet,' Hector said.

Perhaps he was religious.

'This man who shot you - he's dead.'

'Yes. Just think, I got him,' Hector said. 'I mean, I did have two bullets in me, and Officer Elofsson was lying right in my line of fire, and it was dark too.'

'But we haven't caught the other one,' Kollberg said. 'Did you see what he looked like?'

'It wasn't light yet,' Elofsson said. 'Just like Officer Hector said.'

'But you did see him?'

'I never really saw him clearly,' Hector said. 'Officer Elofsson here was in between us, and then too I was concentrating mostly on the other one. But I remember he had light hair.'

'We didn't have much time to look around,' Elofsson said. 'But it was just a lad, I mean, not more than twenty at the most And he had long blond hair.'

'Did he say anything?'

'I heard Officer Elofsson speak to them,' Hector said. 'But I didn't hear what they answered.'

'Neither one of them talked much,' Elofsson said. 'It was only the tall one said anything. I don't think the other one said a word.'

'The tall one said he hadn't done anything,' Hector said. 'I remember that now. I pointed out that they were driving with no lights, and then he said he hadn't done anything.'

'That's right,' Elofsson said. 'Officer Hector here said their headlights were, in violation, and then he said they hadn't done anything.'

'Is that all that was said?'

'No,' Elofsson said. 'After they started shooting, the tall one said something else. "Jump in the car," or something like that and a name.'

'Do you remember the name?'

'Wait a minute. It was a weird name, sort of. Started with K, or C. Claus, maybe.'

'That's not especially weird.'

'No, it was weirder than that. I'll think of it in a minute.' 'Take your time,' Kollberg said. 'It'll come to you.' 'I didn't hear any name,' Hector said. 'We haven't found the car either,' Kollberg said. 'They gave us the wrong description over the radio,' Hector said. 'They said it was a Chrysler, but I'm sure it was an old Chevvy.' 'How do you know?' Elofsson said.

'I'm good at cars,' Hector said. 'The radio said it was a blue Chrysler, but I'm absolutely sure it was a Chevvy. And it was green. And they gave us the wrong number too.'

'Yes, that's always the way,' Elofsson said. 'They tell us wrong. But I don't remember exactly what they did say on the radio.'

'I remember,' Hector said. 'They said it was a hot rod with old plates. That part was true, but from there on everything was wrong.' 'Typical,' Elofsson said. He was breathing rather heavily. 'Are you in pain?' said Kollberg sympathetically. 'Yes, sometimes it hurts like hell.' Kollberg turned to Hector.

'You say the description was all wrong,' he said. ‘We've got the make and the colour, so far. Was there anything else?'

'Yes. They said there were two girls and a guy in the car. And, in fact, there were two men and no girls.'

'Now I remember,' said Elofsson suddenly. 'Caspar.'

'Caspar.'

'Right The guy who shot me said, "Get in the car, Caspar." It was Caspar.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, absolutely. I said it was a weird name. Caspar's weird. I don't know anybody named Caspar.' 'Neither do I,' Kollberg said.

'And then there were the plates,' Hector said. "They said they were A-plates. You know, a Stockholm car with old plates. And they said there were three sixes in the number. But that was wrong, because the car had B-plates, and the number started with two sevens. Then there was some other number, and then maybe another seven.'

'I don't know about all that stuff,' Elofsson said.

'This is important,' Kollberg said. 'You say it was a green Chevrolet, registered in Stockholm County, with two or three sevens in the licence number.'

'Yes, you can count on it' Hector said. 'I generally try to notice things and get them right'

'Yes, that's right,' Elofsson said. 'Officer Hector's always on the job.'

'And what was this Caspar wearing?'

'Dark jacket and jeans,' Hector said. 'Windcheater. A small kid with light hair. Long, like he says.'

'They all dress like that,' Elofsson said.

A student nurse came in with a lot of test tubes on a cart She busied herself with Elofsson. Kollberg moved out of her way.

'Are you feeling up to a few more questions?'

'Sure,' Hector said. "There's nothing wrong with me. What do you want to know?'

'I'm thinking mostly about what actually happened. Okay, you stopped this car and got out. You'd already made a mental note of the make of the car and the colour and the licence number.'

'Right'

'What did the men in the car do?'

'They got out too. Emil - Officer Elofsson here - he shone his torch in the back seat Then he grabbed the one who was standing closest. And then he started shooting.'

'Were you hit right away?'

'Just about. I think Officer Elofsson was hit first. But it all happened incredibly fast I got hit right after that' 'But you did have time to draw your revolver?' 'I already had.'

'You mean you had your revolver in your hand when you walked up to the car?'

'Yes, I must have had a feeling.'

'Do you think the men in the car could see that you had your revolver in your hand?'

‘They must have. But I didn't have a cartridge in the chamber - I mean, that's against regulations and everything. So I had to cock it before I could shoot back.'

Kollberg glanced at Elofsson, who was beginning to look more and more insensible. The technical investigation had shown that he and Borglund had had cartridges in the chambers of their pistols. But neither one of them had fired, and as far as Elofsson was concerned, they could say definitely that he had never even unbuttoned his holster.

'Listen,' Hector said. 'I heard a rumour around here that Gustav Borglund was killed. Is that true?'

'Yes,' Kollberg said. 'He died early this morning. Here in the hospital. But he was in another ward.'

'That's awful,' Hector said. Kollberg nodded.

'Yes,' he said. 'It's not good.'

'I never saw him while it was happening,' Hector said. 'He was behind me. He must have been the first one hit.'

'I saw him,' said Elofsson thickly. 'He came crawling over after you'd shot that desperado. He was the one who called for help. And he gave me first aid. He was hurt, I could tell. Is Gustav dead?'

Kollberg could see that Elofsson was starting to fade, but there were still a couple of questions he wanted to ask.

'Do you know whether both these men shot at you?'

'I thought the second one did too,' Elofsson said. 'While it was happening, I was sure they were both shooting at us. Because someone was banging away behind me. But now I realize that must have been David here. Officer Hector.'

Kollberg turned back to Hector.

'What do you think?'

'All I know for sure is that I saw the tall dark one shoot at me and Emil while we were lying there on the ground. And then I shot him. After that I don't remember anything. But Emil was still conscious.'

'Yes,' said Elofsson weakly. 'I saw the one who shot me throw up his hands and sort of crumple. And then I heard the car backing up and then peeling out.'

'So neither one of you had the impression that this blond kid was shooting at you, or even that he had a gun?'

'No,' Hector said. 'Not that I could see.'

Elofsson didn't answer. He seemed to have fallen into a stupor.

Kollberg looked at Hector. He formulated a question in his mind but didn't ask it.

Do you often have feelings like that? That make you draw your gun first and ask questions later?

But he didn't say it out loud. It didn't seem to be the right moment.

'Well, so long, boys,' he said. 'Try and get well now.' On the way out he tried to find the resident 'He's in surgery,' the nurse said. 'And that Dr Aklam…’

'Aztazkanzakersky,' she said. 'He's in surgery too. What do you want to know?'

'I thought Elofsson looked pretty bad.'

'He's weak,' she said. 'But he's been taken off the critical list. They're both going to make it, although...'

‘What?'

'Those are serious injuries,' she said. 'Maybe neither one of them will recover completely.' Kollberg shook himself. 'That's a shame,' he said.

'We have to try and look on the bright side,' she said.

'I suppose so,' Kollberg said. 'So long.'

His visit had been profitable as well as thought-provoking.

At the police building in Malmö, Per Månsson bit off the toothpick he had been chewing and threw the pieces in the wastebasket.

'Terrific That means we've had a nationwide dragnet out for the wrong car for three days. Wrong make, wrong colour, wrong county letter, and wrong licence number. What more could you ask?'

'What did Borglund die of?' Kollberg asked.

'He was killed in connection with the shooting,' said Månsson solemnly. 'That's what it's going to say in the papers.'

He took a fresh toothpick out of his breast pocket and slowly pulled off the cellophane.

'I just wrote it down on a piece of paper so there won't be any misunderstandings.1

He gave the paper to Kollberg.

Sergeant Gustav Borglund, thirty-seven, died this morning of injuries received in connection with an exchange of fire between policemen and two armed men in Ljunghusen. Two other policemen were seriously wounded in the same gun battle. But, under the circumstances, their condition is satisfactory.

Kollberg put the paper down on the table.

'What did he really die of?'

Månsson stared out of the window with an inscrutable expression. 'He was stung by a wasp,' he said.

Månsson and Kollberg were having a rough time. Stig Malm was on them like a hawk all Wednesday afternoon. The only comfort was that the head of the tactical command remained in Stockholm and confined himself to pestering his staff by telephone.

How's it going?

Have you found the car?

Has the killer been identified?

Who's the other desperado?

And then, of course, the predominating question:

Why aren't you doing anything?

It was Månsson who got that one, but he didn't let it throw him.

'Oh, we're doing a great deal - now.'

Kollberg watched him from across the desk and admired his composure. Månsson calmly went on chewing his toothpick while Malm jabbered into his ear.

'Now that we've finally got something to go on,' Månsson said.  And after a while:

'No, I wouldn't do that It's better to have some central coordinator - someone who can keep his finger on everything. Yes, we'll let you know.'

Månsson hung up.

'He's threatening to come down,' he said. 'If the damned planes are flying, we could have him here in two hours.'

'Oh, no,' said Kollberg despondently. 'Anything but that.'

'I don't think he really meant it,' Månsson said. 'Anyway, something's bound to break soon. And anyway he doesn't like to fly. I discovered that years ago.'

Månsson was right. Malm did not appear, and on Thursday morning they got their break.

Kollberg had slept badly after an almost inedible dinner at a restaurant someone had recommended as being inexpensive. When he woke up, he thought enviously of Martin Beck, who had probably dined royally at the inn in Anderslöv and was now sitting with Allwright considering the Sigbrit Mård case.

But he ate a double portion of ham and eggs at the hotel and was in a somewhat better humour when he threw open the big copper door of the police building and trudged up to the second floor to see Månsson and get the morning's news. He had seen the words POLICEMAN DIES in the morning headlines.

'Morning,' Månsson said. 'I didn't want to bother you at breakfast, but we know who it was that shot Hector and Elofsson.'

'Who?'

'His name was Christer Paulson. Central fingerprinting finally managed to find the right card. They blamed it on some problem with the computer, as usual.'

A problem with the computer. Kollberg sighed. Ever since police centralization, his life had been filled with such calamities.

'And on top of that we found the car. It was parked behind some old outbuildings on a farm near Vellinge. The farmer said it's been there since last Sunday, but he thought it was an old wreck that someone had left there to get rid of it. He'd seen the description in the papers, of course, but what the hell, it was the wrong colour and the wrong number and the wrong make. Benny drove down to take care of it. It won't take long to tow it up here.'