The Cup

CHAPTER 12

Selena followed Forsberg into the building, past his men herding people out. He led her to set of rooms where bullets had splintered the wooden door frame and punched holes in the wall. To her right, a door opened onto a bedroom. To the left was a small kitchen. Ahead was a sitting area.

"In here," Forsberg said.

The sitting area contained a worn couch, a desk and a chair. Hussein lay on the floor on his back, his robe soaked in blood. His eyes were open. His turban was askew. A pistol lay by his outstretched hand. Papers lay scattered on the floor around him, in front of a fire blazing in a brick fireplace.

"I think he was going to burn those papers," Forsberg said.

Selena picked up a page. "This doesn't look like anything important. It's an invoice from a grocer in Ystad specializing in Arab foods. Where's Ystad?"

"It's a small town all the way down south, at the tip of the country. Warmer, down there."

"Don't they have Arab grocers in Stockholm?"

"Yes, several of them."

"What else is in Ystad?"

"It's a commercial and fishing port. There's ferry service to Poland and Latvia from there. Also Denmark. From Denmark, you can go anywhere in Europe."

She handed him the paper. "Why order from way down there if you can get the same thing nearby? I'll bet that's where they ship the antiquities out of Sweden."

Someone called to Forsberg.

"Let me know if you find anything else," he said. He left the room.

Selena turned her attention back to the papers scattered on the floor. There were several invoices for Arab foodstuffs from the same address, dated over the past year. She didn't find anything else that seemed important and decided to look around the building.

She passed an open door and stepped through into an apartment. No one was there. A framed picture on a side table showed the translator, Gabriel, and a woman wearing a Hijab. They stood in a city square bordered by pockmarked and shattered buildings, signs of heavy fighting. Behind Gabriel was a shop sign with a name written on it in Arabic. The picture had been taken in Mosul.

Iraq, she thought. Gabriel is from Iraq. Hussein probably was as well. Where is Gabriel, I wonder?

She opened a dresser drawer and rummaged through it. She found a cell phone stuffed under children's clothes, where someone had tried to hide it. It was a throwaway. She put it in her pocket. Nick could decide what to do with it. After poking around a while longer, she went back outside.

Several police cars had arrived. With Forsberg's men, the cops moved the occupants of the refugee asylum into groups. They stood shivering in the cold, surrounded by hostile stares. Guns were pointed at them. No one smiled.

Selena took Nick to the side and showed him the phone. "This was in Gabriel's room. Should I give it to Forsberg?"

"Let's find out what's on it first. I'll take it."

She handed him the phone. Nick dialed Virginia. Elizabeth answered.

"What is it Nick?"

"The raid went south. There was a jihadist cell inside the center, armed to the teeth. They opened up on the Swedes."

"Why did they start shooting?"

"That's what everybody wants to know. Forsberg thinks they were tipped off. Selena thinks they were hiding something. That might be, but I think they're mostly just stupid jihadists who thought this was their opportunity to meet Allah. Forsberg and his people are going over the building with a fine tooth comb."

"Will they tell you if they find something we need to know about?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I thought I might improvise a little, just in case they don't. I have something for Stephanie. Can you put her on?"

"Wait one."

Stephanie Willits came online. Steph was a critical cog in the complex machine of Project operations. There wasn't much she couldn't do with a computer or a piece of communications gear. Satellite communications was one of her specialties. She'd helped Nick and the others out of a bad situation in the field more than once.

"What's up, Nick? Elizabeth says you guys ran into serious trouble."

"We did, but it's over now. I have a phone in my hand. I want to send you whatever is on it."

"Give me a minute," Steph said.

Nick waited while she set up the transfer.

"Okay, go ahead."

Nick plugged the cell into his satellite unit, turned on Gabriel's phone and pressed a sequence of keys. Thirty seconds later the file transfer was complete.

Stephanie said, "Got it."

"This phone belonged to one of the jihadists. He’s missing and he may have been second in command. These guys were selling looted artifacts on the black market. If something indicates Swedish involvement, Stockholm will cover it up."

"You want me to look for whatever I can find, right?"

"Yup."

"I'll have to run everything through a translation program, unless the conversations are in English. It will take time."

"Whatever it takes," Nick said. "Thanks, Steph."

Nick broke the connection.

"Let's see what comes out of that." He looked around. "We're done here. I'll tell Forsberg we're leaving."

He went over to where Forsberg stood talking with one of his men.

"Selena found this in Gabriel's room." He handed the phone over.

"What's on it?"

"I don't have any idea," Nick said.

Forsberg pocketed the phone. "We'll take care of it from here."

He looked at Selena. "I've been told to let you keep those scrolls for now, while you translate them."

"Wonderful. It shouldn't take more than a few days."

"You must have some serious pull. Make sure nothing happens to them. Nick, I'll call you at the hotel later."

"Yeah," Nick said.