The Cup

CHAPTER 2

It was nighttime when they arrived in Stockholm. Late October in Sweden meant short days and nights growing long. The city was already in winter mode. The temperature outside was a chilly 10° above zero. Snow covered the ground around the airport.

A man wearing a dark overcoat came forward to meet them as they neared customs. He had the face of a man who had seen more than he wanted to. He was around six feet tall, about Nick's height, with the same hard look Nick saw every time he looked in a mirror. It was something that came with years of military service. He was about forty years old, with blonde hair cropped close to his head. He had ice blue eyes that passed over Nick and the others with quick appraisal.

"Nicholas Carter?"

"Yes."

"Otto Forsberg. Welcome to Sweden."

Forsberg's English was good, his accent slight. They shook hands. Nick introduced the others. In Sweden, everyone learned English in school.

"Come with me," Forsberg said. He flashed his ID and took them through customs, bypassing inspection.

"Do you have checked baggage?" he asked.

"No, just what we're carrying."

"Good. I have a car waiting."

As they left the airport and stepped into the Swedish night, the cold hit them with razor sharpness. Selena pulled up the fur-lined hood of a blue parka. The coat set off the blue/violet color of her eyes and her blondish hair. With her high cheekbones and fair skin, most Swedes would take her for a native.

They got into the car, a black Volvo wagon idling by the entrance to the terminal. The heater was blasting. Nick was glad of the warmth inside the car.

"Where are you staying?" Forsberg asked.

Selena gave him the name of the hotel. Forsberg said something to the driver and they pulled away into light traffic.

Forsberg opened a briefcase that had been in the car and took out a folder. He handed it to Nick.

"We will begin tomorrow. In the meantime, I thought you would want to see what we have found out so far."

"Anything new on who killed your man?"

"We're still following up on our inquiries."

"So, nothing new."

"Not yet."

"How do you plan to work us into your investigation?"

"I will be honest. It was not my idea to invite you here. I don't see what you can do that we can't. However, you are here now and my orders are to find a way for you to be useful."

"Sure glad we can be useful," Lamont said.

"It's an awkward situation," Forsberg said. "At this point I'm not sure how you fit in. You bring fresh eyes to our investigation. Perhaps you'll see something we've overlooked. Or you may have an idea that helps us find whoever killed Vilgot. You know what it's like. Intelligence work is a little like being a policeman. There's a lot of looking at bits of information and trying to piece them together into a picture we can understand."

"You knew the dead man?" Selena asked.

"Yes, I knew him. We are a small organization and he was a good friend. This is personal for me. I want the people who did this. If you can help me do that, I will be very grateful."

"We didn't bring our weapons," Nick said. "Speaking of grateful, that's what I'd be if you could issue us pistols."

"You think you will need them?"

"Something like what you have under your coat would probably work."

"Ah, I didn't think that was quite so obvious."

"What are you carrying?" Ronnie asked.

"A 10mm Pist 88, what you would call a Glock 17."

"To answer your question," Nick said, "I don't know if we'll need them but I don't want to find out we do if we run into trouble. Whoever killed your man isn't playing games. If we succeed in finding him, he may be with his buddies. Even if he's not, he's not going to go peacefully."

"I'll see what I can do," Forsberg said, "but it's unlikely to be approved. Not many of us carry guns here."

"Mmm," Nick said.

"Tomorrow we are going to one of the asylum centers for the refugees," Forsberg said. "It's the last place Andersson was seen before he disappeared. I want to question the residents again."

"Residents?"

"It's an apartment block, people from Syria and Iraq. It's not a pleasant place but it's better than living in a plastic tent. The people there are lucky."

"Some kind of luck," Lamont said.

"Do you speak Arabic?" Selena asked.

"No."

"Then I can translate."

"Yes, your ability with languages is in our file. You understand the dialects?"

There's always a file, she thought. Sometimes she wondered if there was any aspect of her life that wasn't in a folder somewhere.

"It depends, but yes. Most of the dialects from the Middle East."

"That's the first good news I've had today. When we interviewed people at the center we had to rely on one of their interpreters. I'm sure he didn't translate everything. Perhaps you will have better results."

The car pulled up at the entrance of the hotel.

"Here you are."

They got out of the car.

"I'll be back at 0800 tomorrow to pick you up." He looked at his watch. "I'd better get going. We're having a special family dinner tonight. It's my grandfather's birthday. He's ninety-two."

"That's fantastic," Nick said.

"He volunteered to fight the Germans during World War II. You would enjoy his stories, I think."

"Wasn't Sweden neutral?"

"Not all of us were."

Forsberg got back in the car. They watched it drive away.

"He seems pretty friendly," Ronnie said.

"Makes a change," Lamont said. "Usually everybody tells us to stay out of the way."

"Sooner or later someone will," Nick said.