interesting.”
“Suspiciously so. We know he uses it to launder money but we can’t prove anything.”
“Where does he get the dirty money from?” Joss asked.
“Smuggling. Drugs, currency, rare goods, so the rumorgoes. And he’s not shy about hurting anyone who gets in his way. We’ve had more than a few dead bodies attributed to his organization.”
“Have you infiltrated?”
Rolf shook his head. “The one time we tried, the agent was killed in a convenient accident.”
“Murder?”
“I honestly could not say. If he were not involved in Silverhielm’s organization, I’d have no doubts it was just bad luck. Because he was…” Rolf shrugged.
“Can’t you turn someone?”
“No one wants to talk.” He smiled faintly. “It is not healthy. We occasionally get anonymous information. Always, we follow up but the leads come to nothing. Two years ago, we came close to putting him in jail and perhaps getting more. His wife of the time filed battery charges against him.”
“Battery?”
“He beat her quite badly. She promised to testify to all she knew about his business.”
“And?”
“What do you think? A few days passed, she had visitors, and she withdrew the charges. We could do nothing. She has since left Sweden. He sits out there on his island like the king of the archipelago and laughs at us and gets richer every day.”
“Frustrating.”
Rolf’s eyes hardened. “He will make a mistake one day and when he does, we will be there.”
“How would you like to have something to truly hang on him?”
Rolf casually walked a few steps past them toward the bow of the boat and leaned again on the rail, using small binoculars to examine the upper reaches of the mast. “Bax,my friend, nothing would make me happier. What’s on your mind?”
“We have reason to suspect that he may have arranged to have a very valuable rare stamp stolen from Joss’s family.”
“That is work for Interpol.”
“Interpol tried to run it down and came up with nothing.”
Rolf put down his glasses. “He is very slippery, our friend. So you come to visit us, instead?”
“I figured I’d be more effective on site.”
“We are watching him, Interpol has already pursued him. What makes you think that you can do what we can’t?” Rolf’s voice hardened a little.
“I’m not trying to run down mobsters, pedophiles and prostitution rings. I can afford to just focus on him. Besides, I’m not even trying to lock him down. I’m just trying to get back Joss’s family’s property.”
For the first time, Rolf turned to look directly at him, eyes cool. “We don’t think well of vigilantism in Sweden.”
“Don’t think of it as vigilantism,” Bax returned. “Think of it as help.”
“Help?”
“I’m having to poke around in Silverhielm’s life to do this job. If I happen to come across evidence of a crime, I would pass that to the proper authorities.”
The corner of Rolf’s mouth twitched. “I am sure the proper authorities would be happy to pursue it. They are always glad of help.”
“Help goes both directions, of course. Depending on what happens, I may need the help in a hurry.”
“Perhaps now is a good time for us to trade mobile telephone numbers.”
“It might be quicker than leaving a message on your voice mail,” Bax allowed.
“You Americans,” Rolf tsked, “always so impatient.”
“We get that way when we face master criminals.”
Rolf smiled briefly. “Don’t we all.”
T HE SKY WAS still light as Bax and Joss walked across the cobbled expanse of Berzelii Park toward Strindberg’s auction house. Trees hung over the broad stone benches and the reflecting pond glimmered. To the other side lay the sea that seemed to be at every turn in Stockholm, this time a narrow inlet that gleamed in the afternoon sun.
In such a beautiful city, it was easy to forget that their business was serious, indeed. He could imagine that Joss was just his lover, walking next to him in
“Suspiciously so. We know he uses it to launder money but we can’t prove anything.”
“Where does he get the dirty money from?” Joss asked.
“Smuggling. Drugs, currency, rare goods, so the rumorgoes. And he’s not shy about hurting anyone who gets in his way. We’ve had more than a few dead bodies attributed to his organization.”
“Have you infiltrated?”
Rolf shook his head. “The one time we tried, the agent was killed in a convenient accident.”
“Murder?”
“I honestly could not say. If he were not involved in Silverhielm’s organization, I’d have no doubts it was just bad luck. Because he was…” Rolf shrugged.
“Can’t you turn someone?”
“No one wants to talk.” He smiled faintly. “It is not healthy. We occasionally get anonymous information. Always, we follow up but the leads come to nothing. Two years ago, we came close to putting him in jail and perhaps getting more. His wife of the time filed battery charges against him.”
“Battery?”
“He beat her quite badly. She promised to testify to all she knew about his business.”
“And?”
“What do you think? A few days passed, she had visitors, and she withdrew the charges. We could do nothing. She has since left Sweden. He sits out there on his island like the king of the archipelago and laughs at us and gets richer every day.”
“Frustrating.”
Rolf’s eyes hardened. “He will make a mistake one day and when he does, we will be there.”
“How would you like to have something to truly hang on him?”
Rolf casually walked a few steps past them toward the bow of the boat and leaned again on the rail, using small binoculars to examine the upper reaches of the mast. “Bax,my friend, nothing would make me happier. What’s on your mind?”
“We have reason to suspect that he may have arranged to have a very valuable rare stamp stolen from Joss’s family.”
“That is work for Interpol.”
“Interpol tried to run it down and came up with nothing.”
Rolf put down his glasses. “He is very slippery, our friend. So you come to visit us, instead?”
“I figured I’d be more effective on site.”
“We are watching him, Interpol has already pursued him. What makes you think that you can do what we can’t?” Rolf’s voice hardened a little.
“I’m not trying to run down mobsters, pedophiles and prostitution rings. I can afford to just focus on him. Besides, I’m not even trying to lock him down. I’m just trying to get back Joss’s family’s property.”
For the first time, Rolf turned to look directly at him, eyes cool. “We don’t think well of vigilantism in Sweden.”
“Don’t think of it as vigilantism,” Bax returned. “Think of it as help.”
“Help?”
“I’m having to poke around in Silverhielm’s life to do this job. If I happen to come across evidence of a crime, I would pass that to the proper authorities.”
The corner of Rolf’s mouth twitched. “I am sure the proper authorities would be happy to pursue it. They are always glad of help.”
“Help goes both directions, of course. Depending on what happens, I may need the help in a hurry.”
“Perhaps now is a good time for us to trade mobile telephone numbers.”
“It might be quicker than leaving a message on your voice mail,” Bax allowed.
“You Americans,” Rolf tsked, “always so impatient.”
“We get that way when we face master criminals.”
Rolf smiled briefly. “Don’t we all.”
T HE SKY WAS still light as Bax and Joss walked across the cobbled expanse of Berzelii Park toward Strindberg’s auction house. Trees hung over the broad stone benches and the reflecting pond glimmered. To the other side lay the sea that seemed to be at every turn in Stockholm, this time a narrow inlet that gleamed in the afternoon sun.
In such a beautiful city, it was easy to forget that their business was serious, indeed. He could imagine that Joss was just his lover, walking next to him in
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