"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.
CHAPTER 3
Stockholm was built on an archipelago, a series of islands interwoven with lakes and canals. Nick and Selena's room looked out over the waterfront of Lake Mälaren with a good view of the city. City Hall lay in one direction, the Swedish Parliament building and Old Town in the other.
The hotel was a typical upscale European design, with a central living area paneled in light wood that might have been birch or ash. Recessed in one wall was an enormous TV. The bathroom was tiled in gray and black, accented with chrome and multiple mirrors. Large white ceramic bowls set on a stone counter served as wash basins.
The suite looked as though it had come straight from the pages of a high-end architectural magazine. Light blue, translucent cloth curtains hung on a wall of windows looking out over the lake.
The furniture was functional and comfortable, featuring chairs and a couch covered in gray fabric with matching wall-to-wall carpeting and a polished round table. Discrete recessed lighting could be adjusted for a variety of effects.
Nick looked around the room.
"Not bad."
Selena tossed her jacket over the back of a chair. "The Swedes have a real knack for this kind of thing."
"Let's have a drink downstairs and get something to eat. It might be our last chance to relax for a while. Things will start in earnest tomorrow."
"What about Ronnie and Lamont?"
"I'll give them a call. They're just next door."
Fifteen minutes later they were in the lobby bar, sitting in front of a massive rock fireplace blazing with a gas fire. A waitress brought their drinks. Soda for Ronnie, alcohol for everyone else.
Alcohol didn't mix well with Ronnie's Navajo genes. One of the reasons he'd joined the Marines was to get away from the problems on the reservation caused by drinking. Alcohol in any form was illegal on tribal land, but that didn't stop people from getting drunk. Poverty and booze went hand-in-hand on the Rez.
"That fire feels great," he said. "These days the cold gets to me when the weather changes."
"What do you expect?" Lamont said. "You're gettin' old. Hell, I'm surprised you're not already using a walker."
"If anyone around here needs a walker, it's you," Ronnie said.
"I can still out run you any day."
"I don't think so."
Nick broke in. "Let's talk about tomorrow."
"What time's the restaurant open?" Lamont asked. "Are we going to have time for breakfast?"
"There's twenty-four hour room service. Just leave one of those cards out on the door handle with what you want and when you want it. They'll bring it."
"Man, I love staying in places like this. Thanks for booking us in here, Selena."
"You're welcome," she said.
Selena had upgraded them to the best rooms in the hotel, just because she could. She did the same with airplane tickets if they were flying commercial. She'd told Nick it helped make up for the times they had to sleep on a bed of rocks or sand, freeze in mud or snow or fight off scorpions and snakes. An inheritance meant she didn't have to worry about money and she intended to enjoy it. Somehow she'd managed to remain unspoiled in spite of her wealth.
"I still don't see what we're supposed to do here," Lamont said.
"It depends on what Forsberg's team turns up." Nick drained his whiskey and signaled the waiter for another. "You heard what he said. He's hoping Selena catches something they missed when we go to that refugee center. We bring a fresh perspective. Maybe we'll see something they don't."
"Sending all of us means Elizabeth thinks there's going to be trouble," Selena said.
"Sometimes she plays things pretty close to the vest," Nick said, "but she wouldn't hold back anything important."
"It might not have anything to do with her," Ronnie said. "Rice is on his way out but he wouldn't mind helping out his legacy with some success over ISIS before he goes. He's the one that gave her the word."
"We don't know ISIS is involved," Nick said.
"Yeah, but it seems damn likely to me. ISIS has been blowing up statues and defacing sculptures everywhere they go, but they don't destroy the small stuff. They sell it for big bucks to buy weapons. If Andersson found someone doing that, it would've been enough reason to kill him."
"So much for what the Koran says about images," Lamont said. "None of their radical ideology means a damn thing when it comes to making money."
"It's classic." Selena had ordered a martini. She took a sip from her glass and set it down. "Ideology takes second place to money. They excuse it as using the infidel's own works against him."
"ISIS is bad news," Nick said. "You wonder how they can do what they do."
"I don't see how anyone can do what they do," Lamont said.
"That's why you're one of the good guys."
"Radical Islam isn’t rational," Selena said. "It's collective insanity."
Ronnie changed the subject. "You think the Swedes are going to give us guns?".
"I don't know," Nick said. "Let's see if Forsberg can arrange it."
CHAPTER 4
The next morning Forsberg waited until the Volvo pulled away from the hotel to tell them.
"Sorry, no guns," he said. "And if you're thinking about going around that, I wouldn't advise it."
"We wouldn't dream of it," Nick said. "For the record, I think it's a mistake."
"You won't need them," Forsberg said.
"Let's hope you're right."
The rest of the ride was spent in silence.
The refugee housing was located in a suburb on the outskirts of Stockholm, bordering tracts of farmland. Set back from the street was a long, six-story brick apartment building that took up an entire block. It had been erected before World War II and was showing its age. Graffiti was scrawled across the front in Arabic. Trash littered the barren ground in front of the building. A group of sullen men in jackets and woolen caps stood around a fire built in an oil drum.
"Keep the engine running," Forsberg told the driver. "We shouldn't be long."
The men around the fire gave them hostile looks as they got out of the car. Lamont looked at the building. Someone was watching from a second story window. Someone on the top floor closed a curtain.