Misterioso by Arne Dahl, Tiina Nunnally Read Free Book Online

o’clock, at police headquarters, the new building. Entrance at Polhemsgatan thirty. What do you say?”
    “I’ll see you there,” said Hjelm.
    “All right then,” said Hultin. “Now I’ve got to head over to Gamla Värmdövägen to pick up a certain Gunnar Nyberg from the Nacka district. Do you know him? Damned fine officer. Like you.”
    Hjelm shook his head. He knew almost no one outside the Huddinge police force.
    On his way out the door, Hultin said, “So you’ve got less than four hours to say goodbye to your colleagues for the foreseeable future and collect all your things. That ought to be enough time, shouldn’t it?”
    He disappeared but came back just as Hjelm had sat down and taken a deep breath.
    “I assume you realize that for the moment this is all top, top secret.”
    “Of course,” said Paul Hjelm. “I realize that.”
    His first thought was to call Cilla to tell her what was happening, but he changed his mind. He thought about all the overtime hours and about the summer and his vacation, which wouldmost likely be canceled, and about the Dalarö cabin that they had rented at such a good price for the whole summer. But first he wanted to enjoy the moment.
    Finally he went over to the break room, unable to hide his joy.
    Four people were sitting there, stuffing themselves with the junk food that they’d brought for lunch. Anders Lindblad, Anna Vass, and Johan Bringman. And Svante Ernstsson. They all looked at him with surprise. Maybe the expression on his face wasn’t exactly what they’d been expecting to see.
    “I’ve come to say goodbye,” Hjelm said solemnly.
    Bringman and Ernstsson stood up.
    “What the hell do you mean?” said Bringman.
    “Tell us,” said Ernstsson. “You mean to say those fuckers fired you?”
    Hjelm sat down across from them and pointed at Ernstsson’s lunch.
    “Put the burger in the nuker. I told you—it’s better if the sauce is warm.”
    Ernstsson laughed with relief. “Okay, so they haven’t fired you! Tell us what happened.”
    “I really have come to say goodbye. You might say I’ve been kicked upstairs.”
    “What about Internal Affairs?”
    “That ordeal is over. Now it’s the NCP for me, hand in glove with the commissioner himself.”
    “So they thought it’d be better to remove you from the shitpile of the southern suburbs and the hordes of blackhead immigrants?”
    “Something like that, I guess. It’s … top, top secret, as the man said. You’ll probably be reading about it in the newspapers, soon enough. But right now it’s all very hush-hush.”
    “When do you start?”
    “This afternoon, actually. Three o’clock.”
    “Fucking great! I’ll drive you over to Ishmet’s bakery so you can buy the most expensive farewell honey-oozing cake that he’s got.”
    Bruun inhaled the brown smoke from a black cigar and smiled into his beard, which covered a considerable portion of his face. He stretched his arms upward and growled faintly, and a few flakes of ash floated onto his reddish-gray mane.
    “So, now I’ve produced yet another bigwig at the NCP,” he said with immeasurable conceit. “And you know that once you’re in over there, they’ll never let you out. Except in a casket. Stamped NCP.”
    Hjelm removed his ID badge and service weapon from Bruun’s desk and fastened the shoulder holster around his chest.
    “ ‘Another bigwig’?” he asked.
    “Hultin was here in the late seventies. Didn’t you know? A hell of a soccer player. Wooden-leg Hultin. The worst centerback in the city. Absolutely no sense of the ball. Instead he specialized in head-butting and splitting open eyebrows.”
    Hjelm felt a faint sensation of warmth creep through his veins. It was not altogether unpleasant. “He said he’d read about me in the papers. Lots of goodwill in the media.”
    “Oh yeah, Hultin the newspaper hound.”
    “Are you still in contact with him?”
    “Occasionally I give him a call to remind him of old favors, sure.