The Locked Room (16 page)

Gunvald glanced appreciatively at the leader of the special squad and said: 'Yeah, it'd be a personal pleasure for me to...' He left his sentence hanging in the air.

Mauritzon didn't bat an eyelash. 'Okay,' he said. 'I've something I reckon you can use on Malmström and Mohrén - and on a few others besides.'

Bulldozer Olsson brightened. 'Interesting, Mr Mauritzon! And what is this choice tidbit?'

Mauritzon looked at Gunvald Larsson and said: 'It's so simple your cat could fix it'

'My cat?'

'Sure. But don't blame me if you screw it up again.'

'My dear Mr Mauritzon, no harsh words now! We're all just as keen to get our paws on these lads as you are. But in heaven's name, what is it you have on them?'

'Their plan for their next job,' Mauritzon said tonelessly. 'Timings and all.'

For just a moment District Attorney Olsson's eyes almost jumped out of his head. Three times he ran around Mauritzon's chair shouting like a maniac: 'Tell us, Mr Mauritzon! Spill the beans! You're already as good as free! We'll even give you a police escort if you like. But tell us. Please, Mr Mauritzon, tell us every¬thing!'

Infected by his curiosity, the special squad had risen to their feet and were standing impatiendy around the snitch.

'Okay,' Mauritzon said without more ado. 'I'd promised to help Malmström and Mohrén with one thing and another. Purchases and so forth. They weren't too keen on going out, see? And every day I was to go to a tobacconist in the Birka district and ask for Mohrén's post.'

'Which tobacconist?' Kollberg demanded instantly.

'Oh, I don't mind telling you that too, though it won't do you any good knowing it. I've checked up on that already. The shop's kept by an old woman, and the letters had been handed in by old-age pensioners, a different one each time.'

'Oh?' said Bulldozer. 'Letters? What letters? How many letters?'

'Altogether only three,' Mauritzon said.

'And you delivered them?'

'Yup. But not before I'd opened them.'

'Didn't Mohrén notice?'

'No. People whose letters I open don't notice. I've a perfect way of doing it, see? Chemical.'

'Indeed, and what was in the letters?' It was more than Bulldozer could do to stand still. He kept skipping about the floor like an overplump bantam cock on a hot grill.

'There was nothing at all interesting in the first two. They were about a couple of guys called "H" and "H" who were to come to a place called "Q", and so forth. Just short messages. In some kind of a code. I stuck down the envelopes again and gave them to Mohrén.'

'And the third one?'

'The third one came the day before yesterday. And that was most interesting, indeed. The plans for their next job, as I've already said. Detailed.'

'And you gave the paper to Mohrén?'

'Papers. There were three big sheets. Sure I gave them to Mohrén. But not before I'd taken photocopies, which I put away in a safe place.'

'Oh, my dear Mr Mauritzon,' said Bulldozer, overwhelmed. 'But which place? And how soon can you go and get them?' 'You can get them yourself. I don't feel like it.' 'When?'

'As soon as I've told you where they are.' 'And where's that?'

'Take it easy,' Mauritzon said. 'This is the genuine thing, don't you worry. But first there's a couple of things I want' 'And what are they?'

'First that paper from Jacobsson, the one you've got in your pocket. The one where it says I'm not suspected of narcotics offences, and that the preliminary investigation's been abandoned for lack of evidence and so on.'

'Of course, immediately,' said Bulldozer, putting his hand into his inside pocket.

'Further, I want a similar paper, signed by yourself, about this business of my being an accomplice of Malmström and Mohrén. That the thing's been looked into and that I've been acting in good faith and so forth.'

Bulldozer Olsson flew to his typewriter. The document was ready in less than two minutes. Mauritzon took both, read through their texts, and said: 'Good. The letter with the copies is at the Sheraton.'

'The hotel?'

'Yes. I sent it there. It's with the reception desk. Poste restante! 'Under what name?'

'Count Philip von Brandenburg,' said Mauritzon bashfully. 'Philip spelt with a "ph".'

They all looked at him astounded.

Then Bulldozer said: 'Oh, my dear Mr Mauritzon, admirable, admirable! Wouldn't you like to sit in another room just for a little while where you can have a cup of coffee and a Danish pastry or something?'

'Tea, thanks,' said Mauritzon.

'Tea,' said Bulldozer absent-mindedly. 'Einar, would you kindly see to it that Mr Mauritzon gets some tea and a Danish pastry... and... some company.'

Rönn went out with Mauritzon and after less than a minute came back again.

'And what,' said Kollberg, 'do we do now?'

'Fetch that letter,' said Bulldozer. 'On the double. The simplest way would be if one of you went there and said you're Count von Brandenburg and asked for his mail. You for example, Gunvald.'

Gunvald Larsson stared stiffly at him out of his china-blue eyes. 'Me? Not on your life. I'd sooner hand in my resignation on the spot'

'Then you'll have to do it Einar. If we tell the truth it'll only lead to a fuss. Maybe they'd refuse to hand over the Count's mail and so on. We can lose a lot of valuable time.'

'Sure,' said Rönn. 'Philip von Brandenburg, Count Here, I've got one of Mauritzon's calling cards he's given me. Had them in a kind of secret pocket in his wallet. They look most aristocratic.'

The calling card was printed in a greyish print with a silver monogram in one corner.

'Get going,' said Bulldozer impatiently. 'Beat it!' Rönn went

'I'm thinking of something odd,' Kollberg said. 'If I go into the grocer's where I've shopped these ten years and ask to buy a pint of milk on account, they'll turn me down. But if a guy like Mauritzon walks into one of the smartest jewellers in town and says he's the Duke of Malexander he can walk out with two diamond rings and ten pearl necklaces on approval.'

'Well, that's the way it is,' said Gunvald Larsson. 'We live in a class society... pure and simple.'

Bulldozer Olsson nodded absent-mindedly. He wasn't inter¬ested in questions concerning the social structure.

The receptionist looked at the letter he was holding in his hand, then at the visiting card, and lastly at Rönn. 'Are you really Count von Brandenburg?' he asked suspiciously.

'Sure,' said Rönn uneasily. 'Or rather, that's to say... I'm his messenger.'

'Aha,' said the porter. 'Like that, is it? Here you are, then. And tell the count we're always honoured to have him as our guest'

Anyone who knew Bulldozer Olsson would probably have thought him seriously ill or at least out of his wits. For more than an hour he'd been in a state of utter euphoria. This feeling of abnormal well-being expressed itself less in his words than in his actions - or rather in his gestures and movements. It all he could do to sit still for more than three seconds at a time. He seemed to float about in the room, as if his crumpled blue suit had not been the envelope of a district attorney but of a zeppelin, and his plump little body had been filled with helium.

In the long run this outburst of joy became trying. On the other hand, the three sheets of paper addressed to the 'Count’ were fascinating to study, and Kollberg, Rönn, and Gunvald Larsson were still examining them with quite as much interest as when their eyes had first Men on them a good hour ago.

There could be no doubt about it. What lay on the special squad's table were photocopies of virtually the entire plan for Malmström's and Mohrén's next bank robbery. It was to be a robbery of no ordinary dimensions. It was a real knockout job, the one they'd been expecting for weeks. And now - all of a sudden - they knew almost everything! It was to take place on a Friday, at 2.45 p.m. In all probability either Friday the 7th - which was to say tomorrow - or else a week later, i.e. Friday, 14th July.

There was much to suggest the latter alternative. This would give them a whole week, more than enough for all imaginable preparations. But even if Malmström and Mohrén went to work at once, the papers revealed so much that it would be mere routine to make a shambles of all their meticulous plans and grab them red-handed.

On one of the sheets was a detailed sketch of the bank itself, with every feature drawn in. This seemed to include everything related to the actual methods to be employed: the points at which the various individuals should stand, the location of the getaway cars, and their routes out of town. All was specified in detail.

Bulldozer Olsson, who knew everything about every bank in the entire Stockholm region, only needed to cast a glance at the sketch to be able to state on the spot which bank it was they intended to plunder: one of the largest and most modern in central Stockholm.

The plan, in all its simplicity, was so clever that it could only have one author: Werner Roos. Of that Bulldozer was sure.

The actual robbery was divided up into three independent actions. The first was to be a diversion.

The second was to be a prophylactic operation, aimed directly at the main enemy, viz., the police. The third was the robbery itself.

To carry out their plan, Malmström and Mohrén would need at least four field assistants. Of these, two were even mentioned by name: Hauser and Hoff. As far as could be seen, they were to stand guard during the actual coup. The two - or possibly more than two - others were to be responsible for the diversion and for the preventive aspect. These persons were described as 'enter¬prisers'.

The diversionary manoeuvre was to commence at 2.40 and take place on Rosenlundsgatan, to the south of the city. Included among the props were at least two cars and a very heavy charge of dynamite.

Everything suggested that this diversion was designed to draw maximum attention to itself, as well as almost all the patrol cars circulating in the centre of the city and its southern suburbs. Precisely how it was to be carried out was not made clear. But there seemed to be every reason to suppose it would comprise a violent explosion, either at a petrol station or inside a house. The man responsible for this was 'Enterpriser A.

A minute later, as was tactically correct, the prophylactic meas¬ures were to be unleashed. This part of the plan was as ingenious as it was impudent. All the exits for the riot squads and other emergency vehicles always held in reserve at the Kungsholmen police station were to be blocked. Just how this was to be done was hard to imagine; but a central police force that was unprepared would certainly have some unpleasant surprises in store for it. Direct command of this part of the scheme lay with 'Enterpriser B'.

By 2.45, assuming these two primary operations had gone off according to plan, far and away the greater part of the mobile police forces would be tied up at the commotion on Rosenlundsgatan, in the south, while the tactical reserve of emer¬gency personnel would be stuck in the central police building on Kungsholmen.

At that moment Malmström and Mohrén, assisted by the myste¬rious and unknown Messrs Hoff and Hauser, would carry out the actual coup against the bank, with excellent prospects of remaining undisturbed by the police.

This, then, was to be the long-expected job, the job with a very big ‘J’.

Two vehicles were to be employed as getaway cars and would later be exchanged for four others, with only one man in each. In view of the fact that by this time almost all mobile police would have been lured off to the southern part of the city and the rest would be tied up on Kungsholmen, all four cars were to retreat northwards.

Even the booty's putative size was stated for the sake of complete¬ness. It was estimated at a sum equivalent to two and a half million Swedish kronor. It was this last detail that suggested Friday the fourteenth. A conversation with the bank had indicated that a sum of about that size would be easily accessible, in all kinds of currency, on that particular day. If, on the other hand, the gang struck tomorrow, its haul would be a good deal smaller.

Most of the instructions were in plain Swedish or were at least fairly easy to interpret.

'"Jean has a long moustache",' said Kollberg. 'Everyone knows what that means. It was used over the radio to the French Maquis on the eve of D-day in World War II.' Kollberg saw Rönn's enquiring glance and spelled it out. 'It means, quite simply: "Okay, boys, let's get going."'

'That last bit, too, is simple enough,' Gunvald Larsson said. '"Abandon ship." That was the bit Mauritzon didn't get. Orders to clear out at once. Which is why that apartment was empty. Probably Roos suspected Mauritzon and had them change their hideaway.'

'And immediately afterwards comes the word "Milan",' Kollberg said. "What's that mean?'

'Meet in Milan to split up the dough,' Bulldozer said unhesitat¬ingly. 'But as things are, they won't even get out of the bank - that is, if we even let them get into it. The game's ours.'

'Indubitably,' Kollberg said. 'At least, so it would seem.'

Knowing all this, they easily drew up the counter-measures.

Whatever might occur on Rosenlundsgatan, it was to be ignored as far as possible. As for the emergency vehicles on Kungsholmen, all that had to be done was to make sure that they were not there at the moment when the gangsters' preventive action was set in motion. On the contrary, they would be placed at strategic points around the bank.

'Well,' Bulldozer said, more or less to himself, 'this plan is clearly the work of Werner Roos. But how are we ever going to prove it?'

'The typewriter, perhaps?' said Rönn.

'Electric typewriting is almost impossible to trace to any particu¬lar machine. And he doesn't make any consistent typographical errors, either. So how are we to pin it on him?'

'Surely you can figure out a little thing like that,' said Kollberg. 'You who are a district attorney! Here in Sweden all you've got to do is bring charges against people in order to get them put away, even if they're innocent.'

'But Werner Roos is guilty,' Bulldozer said.

'What'll we do with Mauritzon?' Gunvald Larsson asked.