The Locked Room (14 page)

'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 illustrious 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?'

'Mohrén'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!'

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

'A sort of antique sextant, 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.'

Rönn 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 brass tacks, instead,' said Bulldozer, clap¬ping his hands as if to inspire enthusiasm. Challengingly he surveyed his forces. Kollberg, Rönn, 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 brass had been seen or even heard from since their weird film show, a feet for which they were all grateful.

'Now we'll rehearse,' 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 deject¬edly.

'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 collab¬oration 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 Malmström opens. He expects to see Mauritzon with the astrolabe and underwear and all the rest of it Instead he sees...'

'Us,' said Rönn grimly.

'Exactly,' said Bulldozer. 'Both he and Mohrén'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 Malmström and Mohrén'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 Malmström and Mohrén 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 damn dog going to wear a gas mask?'

'Bright idea,' Mauritzon said.

Everyone stared at him dubiously.

'So,' said Bulldozer. 'First possibility: Malmström and Mohrén 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: Malmström and Mohrén 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.

By now Bulldozer was almost lyrical. 'The criminals are disarmed and handcuffed. Then I myself enter the apartment and warn them that they're under arrest. Then they're taken away.' For a few moments he pondered these promising prospects. Then said animatedly: 'Then we have the interesting third possibility: Malmström and Mohrén don't open up at all. They're extremely cautious and pay close attention to the doorbell signal. Now let's think about this. If they didn't answer, Mauritzon said the plan was for him to withdraw, wait nearby, return exactly twelve minutes later, and repeat the signal. And we'll do the same. Wait twelve minutes and ring again. Then either situation one or situation two will automatically occur. And we've already analysed them.'

Kollberg and Gunvald Larsson exchanged a glance of mutual comprehension.

'Alternative four...' Bulldozer began. But he was interrupted by Kollberg, who said: ‘An alternative can only be one of two.'

'I couldn't care less. Alternative four is that Malmström and Mohrén still don't open up. In that case you break down the door and -'

'And force our way in with our guns at the ready and surround the criminals,' Gunvald Larsson finished with a deep sigh.

'Precisely,' said Bulldozer. "That's precisely how it's going to be. Then I come into the room and arrest them. Perfect! You know this backwards. And all the possibilities have been exhausted. Right?'

For a while there was silence. Then Zachrisson mumbled: 'Fifth alternative: the gangsters open the door and mow us all down with their submachine guns, after which they take to their heels.'

'Idiot,' said Gunvald Larsson. 'For one thing Malmström and Mohrén've been arrested any number of times without anyone ever getting hurt. For another, there's only two of them, and there's going to be six policemen and one dog outside the door, and ten more men in the stairway, and twenty out on the street, and a district attorney in the attic or wherever he plans on hanging out'

Zachrisson looked crestfallen but couldn't refrain from adding a final misanthropic word: 'One can never be really sure about anything in this world.'

'Shall I come too?' asked the computer man.

'No,' said Bulldozer. 'I don't see that there's anything for you to do.'

'Without your machine you're helpless,' Kollberg said. 'Perhaps we could hoist it up there for him with a crane,' said Gunvald Larsson.

'You know all about the apartment's layout and existing entrances and exits,' Bulldozer summed up. "The building has been under discreet observation for three hours and, as expected, nothing's happened. Malmström and Mohrén can't possibly know what's in store for them. Gentlemen, we are ready.' He produced an antique silver watch from his breast pocket, flipped open the watchcase, and said: 'In thirty-two minutes we strike.'

'Isn't it conceivable that they'll try to beat it through the window?' Zachrisson suggested.

'Okay by me,' said Gunvald Larsson. 'The apartment's four flights up, as you know, and there's no fire escape.'

'Alternative six in that case,' said Zachrisson.

Bulldozer now turned to Mauritzon, who had been following the debate with indifference. 'I don't suppose you'd care to accom¬pany us, Mr Mauritzon? Perhaps you'd like to meet your pals?'

Mauritzon answered with something between a shrug and a shudder.

'Then I suggest we put you somewhere nice and peaceful until the matter's been cleared up. After all, you're a businessman, Mr Mauritzon, and so you should understand that, in a manner of speaking, I am too. Should it appear you've tricked us in some way, our bargaining position will be a different one.'

Mauritzon nodded. 'All right,' he said. 'But I know they're there.'

'I think Mr Mauritzon's a damn rat,' said Gunvald Larsson to no one in particular.

Kollberg and Rönn studied the plans of the apartment one last time. The sketch had been drawn up according to Mauritzon's directions and was fairly accurate. Kollberg folded the paper and put it in his pocket 'Okay, then we'll get going,' he said.

Mauritzon raised his voice and said: 'As a friend, I'd just like to say Malmström and Mohrén are more dangerous than you think. They're sure to try and fight their way out So don't take any risks'

Gunvald Larsson looked at Mauritzon grimly and said: 'By that you mean you'd rather we shot both your chums dead on the spot, so you won't have to go around being scared to death of them for the rest of your life.'

'I only wanted to warn you,' said Mauritzon. 'No need to take offence.'

'Shut your face, you bloody pig,' said Gunvald Larsson. He loathed being regarded as a colleague by people he despised. And that went for everyone, from informers to members of the National Police Board.

'Everything's ready,' Bulldozer said with ill-concealed eagerness. 'The action's on. Now we'll get going.'

In the mansion block on Danvik Cliffs all was as expected. What Mauritzon had said seemed to fit: for. example, the name 'S. Andersson' was on the doorplate.

Gunvald Larsson and Rönn were standing on either side of the door, pressed against the wall. Both had pistols in their hands: Gunvald Larsson his private Smith & Wesson thirty-eight Master, and Rönn his usual 7.65 millimetre Walther. Between them stood Kollberg, and the stairway behind him was crammed with people: Zachrisson and the tear-gas man, the dog handler and the dog, both the new detective sergeants, plus several uniformed officers holding sub-machine guns and wearing bullet-proof vests. Bulldozer Olsson, supposedly, was in the lift.

A world under arms, thought Kollberg, as his eyes followed the second hand on Gunvald Larsson's timepiece. He himself, of course, was unarmed.

Thirty-four seconds still to go. Gunvald Larsson's timepiece was a luxury watch. It always kept strict time.

Kollberg wasn't the slightest bit frightened. He'd been a cop far too long to be afraid of people like Malmström and Mohrén. On the other hand, he was wondering what they were thinking and talking about in there, isolated with their weapons, their supply of underwear, and mountains of goose-liver paté and Russian caviar.

Sixteen seconds.

One of them, probably Mohrén, was obviously a gourmet of the first order, if Mauritzon was to be believed. Kollberg under¬stood such an inclination very well: he himself was a lover of good food.

Eight seconds.

What would become of all that delicious grub when Mohrén and Malmström had been handcuffed and taken away? Maybe he could buy it off Mohrén cheap? Or would that be receiving stolen goods?

Two seconds.

Russian caviar, the kind with the golden lid, thought Lennart Kollberg. One second. Zero.

He put his right index finger on the doorbell: very short - long - pause - short - short - short - short - pause - long - very short.

Everyone waited.

Someone audibly drew his breath. A shoe creaked.

Zachrisson, in some unknown way, managed to make his pistol rattle. How the hell can a pistol rattle?

Pistolrattle. Interesting word, thought Kollberg. His stomach rumbled. Probably at the thought of Russian caviar. Something in keeping with Pavlov's dogs.

But this was all that happened. After two minutes there had still been no reaction to the bell from inside. According to the plan, they were now to wait ten minutes and then ring again.

Kollberg raised his right hand as a signal to those behind him to withdraw. Only Zachrisson, the dog, the dog handler, and the tear-gas specialist remained within view; the first three went upstairs, and the latter down. Rönn and Gunvald Larsson stayed put.

Kollberg knew the plan down to the last detail, but he also knew Gunvald Larsson hadn't the faintest intention of following it. So he moved slightly to one side.

Gunvald Larsson also moved, placing himself right in front of the door and viewing it appraisingly. The thing didn't look impossible.

Larsson's got a mania for knocking down doors, thought Kollberg. True, he nearly always succeeded, but Kollberg disliked the method on principle and therefore shook his head and made a negative grimace.

As he expected, Gunvald Larsson took not the slightest notice. Instead, he backed away towards the wall and supported himself against it with his right shoulder. Rönn appeared to be in on the idea. Gunvald Larsson, hunched over and with his left shoulder protruding, made ready to fling himself against the door, a living battering ram - six feet three and a half inches long and weighing seventeen stone.

Things having taken this turn, Kollberg too, of course, was in on it. No one, however, could have foreseen what was to happen within the next moment.