The Demon of Dakar - Kjell Eriksson [133]
“Check out his family and and try to draw out those leads that he has been spotted in Gottsunda.”
“It works for me,” Barbro Liljendahl said.
“Wonderful,” Ottosson said and smiled broadly at her.
“I have to call home,” Sammy said and stood with a grimace, but before he had left the room Ottosson’s cell phone rang.
Ottosson answered, listened for several seconds, then raised his hand to stop Sammy.
“Okey-dokey,” Ottosson said and ended the call.
Everyone looked expectantly at the chief. He was clearly enjoying the situation.
“Give it up,” Sammy said, but he couldn’t help smiling at Ottosson’s boyish expression.
“Speak of the devil,” he said.
“Who?”
“Our young man from Sävja,” Ottosson said. “You don’t have to drive out to the suburbs, the suburbs are coming to us. Babsan and Sammy will take our friend who is waiting anxiously down below.”
Sammy called Zero’s mother, who only understood the word police and, sobbing, handed the phone over to her oldest son, Dogan.
Twenty minutes later Dogan was standing outside the entrance of the police station, ringing the after-hours buzzer, was let in and accompanied by a uniformed officer to the room where both of the police officers and Zero were waiting.
When Dogan caught sight of his brother, he let out a flood of curses. Or that was what Sammy Nilsson guessed the gist was. He put a hand on Dogan’s arm and told him to control himself, then pulled out a chair and asked him to sit.
“It was good that you came, Dogan. Your brother wants to help us,” Sammy Nilsson said, “and we are grateful for this. He came here of his own free will. You can be proud of Zero.”
“Kar,” his brother growled, but sat down.
“I regret everything,” Zero said. “I want to confess.”
Sammy Nilsson turned on the tape recorder and Zero spoke without ceasing for ten minutes. When he finished, they all sat quietly for a moment. Dogan was staring at his brother. Barbro looked touched, while Sammy Nilsson put his hand on Zero’s shoulder.
“That was great, man,” he said, before turning to Dogan. “If I hear a single word about you making trouble for Zero, then you and your brothers will have problems. Understand?”
Dogan looked Sammy Nilsson in the eye and nodded.
“Have you personally met Slobodan Andersson?” he asked Zero. The latter appeared completely drained and had let his head hang.
Sammy Nilsson turned to Liljendahl.
“Could you get a coupe of sodas?”
She nodded and left the room.
“Okay, Zero, Slobodan Andersson. He’s the one we’re interested in.”
“I don’t know,” Zero said quietly. “I have never met him. But all of this is his doing.”
“Who has talked about Slobodan?”
Zero shook his head.
“But how do you know his name?”
“I just heard it.”
“What did you hear?”
“You know … stuff.”
“Damn it, Zero!” his brother exclaimed.
“I don’t know,” Zero repeated, “but that old guy …”
Liljendahl returned with a six-pack of Fantas. Sammy Nilsson opened two and gave Zero and Dogan each a can.
“Who was talking?” Sammy Nilsson resumed. “Was it the guy you stabbed at the school?”
Zero shook his head.
“If you want us to believe you, you’re going to have to tell us.”
Zero nodded.
“Are you scared?”
“I don’t want to go to jail!”
“We can probably arrange it so no one has to know you were the one who tipped us off,” Sammy Nilsson said and glanced at Liljendahl, “but you won’t get away with the stabbing. However, you’re a juvenile, you aren’t old enough,” he added for clarification, “to go to jail. I promise.”
“It was Konrad,” Zero said suddenly.
“Konrad Rosenberg?”
“Yes,” Zero mumbled.
“Where did you meet him?”
“Downtown.”
“Why did Konrad talk to you about Slobodan Andersson?”
Zero stared at Sammy Nilsson uncomprehendingly.
“That Slobodan was boss,” he prompted.
“He probably wanted to show off,” Zero said. “Impress me that he knew people with money.”
And even though Sammy Nilsson tried to tease out more information, Zero couldn’t or wouldn’t be more concrete. After a while, Barbro Liljendahl changed the topic.
“I wanted to ask you something,” she said. “Why did you start selling cocaine?