The Terrorists by Maj Sjöwall, Per Wahlöö Read Free Book Online Page A

police force constituted a class system of its own, in which superiors behaved as they did, not to exploit anyone, but quite simply to make the lives of their subordinates hell.
    After a long wait, Crasher turned around and began to walk back and forth across the room. Bulldozer did the same, but at quite a different pace, so that they looked like two somewhat peculiar sentries on duty. Finally, with a colossal sigh, Crasher began the interrogation.
    “According to my information, you’ve been a policeman for fifteen years.”
    “Yes.”
    “Your superior officers consider you lazy, unintelligent, but honest and generally as suitable—or unsuitable—as your other colleagues on the Stockholm Police Force.”
    “Objection! Objection!” cried Bulldozer. “Counsel is insulting the witness.”
    “Am I?” said Crasher. “If I were to say that the counsel for the prosecution, like a zeppelin, is one of the country’s, yes even the world’s, most interesting and eloquent gasbags, there’d be nothing insulting about that, would there? Now I’m not sayingthat about the counsel for the prosecution, and as far as the witness is concerned, I am merely pointing out that he is an experienced policeman, as capable and intelligent as the other policemen who adorn our city. I’m just trying to bring out his excellent qualifications and good judgment.”
    Rhea Nielsen laughed out loud. Martin Beck placed his right hand over her left one. She laughed even more loudly. The judge pointed out that spectators were expected to keep quiet, then turned to look irritably at the two lawyers. Bulldozer gazed so intently at Rhea that he almost missed the beginning of the interrogation.
    Crasher, on the other hand, showed no reaction. He asked, “Were you first into the bank?”
    “No.”
    “Did you seize this girl, Rebecka Olsson?”
    “No.”
    “Rebecka Lind, I mean,” said Crasher, after a few sniggers.
    “No.”
    “What did you do?”
    “I grabbed the other one.”
    “Were there two girls present at the robbery?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    Kristiansson pondered a moment. “So she wouldn’t fall.”
    “How old was this other girl?”
    “About four months.”
    “And so it was Kvastmo who seized Rebecka Lind?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you think you might say that he employed violence or excessive force in doing so?”
    “I don’t understand what counsel for the defense is trying to get at,” said Bulldozer banteringly.
    “I mean that Kvastmo, whom we all saw earlier today …” Crasher rummaged for a long time among his papers. “Here it is,” he said. “Kvastmo weighs over two hundred pounds. He is, among other things, a specialist in karate and wrestling. He is regarded by his superiors as a keen and zealous man. Inspector Norman Hanson, who submitted the evidence, says however that Kvastmo is all too often overzealous on duty and that manyof those taken into custody complain that Kvastmo used violence against them. The evidence also says that Kenneth Kvastmo has received various reprimands and that his ability to express himself leaves much to be desired.”
    Crasher put down the document and said, “Would the witness now answer the question as to whether Kvastmo used violence.”
    “Yes,” said Kristiansson. “You could say that.” Experience had taught him not to lie where duty was concerned, at least not too much or too often. Also, he disliked Kvastmo.
    “And you took custody of the child?”
    “Yes, I had to. She was carrying it in a sort of harness, and when Kvastmo was taking the knife away from her, she almost dropped the child.”
    “Did Rebecka offer any resistance?”
    “No. When I took the kid, she just said, ‘Careful you don’t drop her!’ ”
    “That all seems clear enough,” said Crasher. “I will return to the possible continued use of force later. Instead, I should now like to ask you about another matter—”
    “Yes,” said Kristiansson.
    “Since no one from the special department