…
At the weekly meeting Berg confirmed that the ongoing survey of the extreme right-wing elements within the police had been put on ice for the time being, but given the situation he chose not to even comment on it. Now it was the doctrine of least possible disturbance that prevailed, and in that connection an abandoned survey of a number of unsuitable police officers was a low price for a little peace and quiet. After the meeting he took Berg aside-the minister was of course the way he was and this time he wanted to make certain that the message had really gone out-and saw to it that the most recent intentions regarding the future of the secret police really had been made clear enough. But Berg never ceased to amaze him. He appeared almost absentminded and mostly nodded in agreement regardless of what he said.
When Berg returned to work he’d decided something. Quite apart from what he’d just heard he had no intention of giving way to Waltin and his transparent attempts at extortion. It was sink or swim, thought Berg, and the advantage with people like him was that as a rule they swam and almost never sank, regardless of what happened. Waltin had to go and he knew exactly how he would get rid of him. So he called him up and reminded him of the financial data on the external operation that he wanted turned in. He also emphasized that he was especially interested in the economic aspect of the operation. The gold watch around Waltin’s wrist perhaps helped him keep the time, but for Berg it was an indication of where he should look for his opponent’s weaknesses.
He let Persson sit in on the entire meeting to take notes, but above all because he had a salutary and subduing influence on Waltin, and Berg didn’t intend to listen to any more drivel about Hedberg this and Hedberg that.
“So it would be good if we could get the economic figures by next week,” said Berg. “Then the auditors will have the time they require.”
“Fine with me,” said Waltin, nodding and smiling.
The gauntlet has been thrown, he thought, and personally he didn’t intend to pick it up. On the other hand, he intended to bring home Hedberg in order to get his help with weeding out the stacks of papers and securing the money that was flowing around in the system and that was rightly his and no one else’s.
Johansson had spent the weekend thinking about what he should do with his life. He wasn’t exactly getting younger, and if life wasn’t going to slip through his fingers it was high time that he took hold of it. The slip of paper that Jarnebring had recommended had rather quickly been scribbled full and needed to be recopied. Jarnebring had also phoned and asked how he was doing.
“How’s it going?” said Jarnebring. “I have a front seat that’s waiting for us both.”
That time is probably past, I’m afraid, thought Johansson as he put down the receiver, and frankly he didn’t miss it anymore. There were other things that were more important, and as a first measure when he came to the board on Monday he requested a leave of absence starting March 1.
The national commissioner contacted him by phone only an hour later. Might he possibly be able to speak with him?
How do you reply to that? he thought, and when he was finally sitting there and saw that the fellow really appeared sincerely sorry about the fact that he risked losing him, he had almost regretted it.
“I think it’s as though I’ve come to a halt,” said Johansson, putting on a little extra Norrland accent as he usually did as soon as the need arose. “So I’ve been thinking that it’s high time that I get more education. Was actually thinking about registering at the university and studying a little.”
Peculiar thing about all these academics that ran the police, he thought as he was leaving an hour later. They got all excited as soon as someone like him so much as hinted at wanting a little education, and if Johansson hadn’t put his foot down he could certainly have taken half his salary with him to rest up at an institution of his own choosing with an ever-so-distant connection to the legal system. The national commissioner had for some reason recommended studying law, and Johansson had thanked him for the tip and promised to think about it. Whatever. His application would be granted and thus he’d set an end point for the professional misery that he’d landed in.
It was no longer of vital importance to wine and dine the union. Much less raise Aunt Jenny’s glass in their company, he thought, and what he would like to do with them instead he didn’t need to think about either. He intended to clean off his desk, but first of all it was high time that he do penance considering the casual attitude he’d evinced when his predecessor in the position-now surely a happy man-asked him for help and advice with that wretched Koskinen.
Officer Koskenkorva was now head of the Stockholm Police Department’s command center and living proof of the fact that traveling testimonials were an infallible means of moving up within the corps. Koskenkorva had barely had time to set his rear end in his chair and hide his namesake vodka in the clothes closet before it was time again. The pile of appeals, complaints, union opinions, and the usual collegial beefs that was heaped on Johansson’s desk was quite improbable considering that the person concerned never did a lick of work and to be on the safe side got drunk whenever he was supposed to do any.
The operational head of the uniformed police in Stockholm, an old hooligan who was both efficient and completely to Johansson’s taste, had decided to carry out a large preparedness drill in order to find out what sort of people his personnel really were. A scenario had been outlined in which His Majesty had been subjected to an attack during a reception at the palace in Stockholm and the perpetrators succeeded in escaping from the crime scene and were now somewhere in the great cement city between the customs gates. The description of the wanted persons that would be sent out was both contradictory and highly believable, the vague description of their escape car and escape routes equally so, and altogether it looked to be an interesting test of what the police in the capital were actually capable of when what couldn’t happen had nonetheless happened. Because the operational head also knew what they were made of, he’d chosen to plan the entire drill for Monday morning.
Koskenkorva had a central role in all this. Put simply he was the spider in the web if something were to really happen, and unfortunately he’d gotten wind of the whole affair. The misery had rolled along, the union had jumped onto the bandwagon, for this type of information might become a real murder weapon in the hands of the employers. And the introductory drizzle of objections had quickly turned into a hailstorm.
On the other side was a thin blue line: the personnel in the riot squad, of course. When Johansson thought about Berg’s horrible nephew, who had now gone back into active duty despite Johansson’s brave attempts to get him parked in a cell, where he naturally belonged, a shadow had fallen across his face. In addition there was the anonymous society called Still Functioning Uniformed Police in Stockholm, which had made contact with his predecessor when Koskenkorva’s appointment had been in the works during the fall. Finally, a number of individual voices had been raised that in sum said it was “high time for a little action.”