"What about the man with the scar I saw outside? As we came in?" Selena said.
"There is no such man. This interview is over."
Hussein's woman had been listening outside the door. Now she went into the hall and knocked on the door of the next unit. A man answered. The woman said something to him. He nodded and left his apartment, walking quickly to the entrance.
In the interview room, Forsberg and Selena stood. Hussein remained seated, unsmiling. He waved at them with the back of his hand, dismissing them.
"You must leave now," Gabriel said.
"Let's go," Forsberg said to Selena. They left the room.
"He lied," Selena said as they walked down the hall. "He knows the man with the scar. His name is Ahmed."
After they were gone, Hussein turned to Gabriel.
"Send Ahmed to the farm. He can relieve Jamal."
"I told you there would be problems over killing the spy. We should have disposed of his body."
"It was a direct order from al-Baghdadi. He wanted an example made. Would you like to explain your concerns to him?"
"I meant no disrespect."
"The Swede we have been using to distribute the artifacts has forgotten where his good fortune comes from. He is skimming profits by keeping select pieces for himself."
"The Swedes are a corrupt people," Gabriel said.
"Call him. Threaten to end our business relationship unless he does something to divert police attention from us. It will mislead him into thinking he is still trusted, but he has outlived his usefulness. After he has done as you asked, I want you to go to his house and eliminate him. Retrieve anything that might lead back to us."
Gabrielle placed his hand over his heart and bowed.
"As you wish, Abu."
CHAPTER 5
Outside the building, Nick and the others waited beside the car. Nick saw a man come out of the building and walk over to the group by the fire. He began talking loudly and gesturing at the car.
"He seems kind of upset," Lamont said.
Nick scratched his ear. "I don't like the look of that. Where are Selena and Forsberg?"
"There they are, with that other guy, just coming out."
Forsberg, Alf and Selena started toward the car. A dozen men came out of the other two entrances of the building. Some of them held pieces of pipe. Nick caught a glimpse of a knife. They looked angry.
"That's trouble." Nick turned to the driver. He was young and he looked nervous. "Get ready to get out of here."
"We'd better get over there," Ronnie said.
The men from the fire headed toward Selena and Forsberg. The others turned toward Nick, Ronnie and Lamont.
"Sure wish I had my piece," Lamont said.
"Don't wait," Nick said. "Do as much damage as you can. These people will try to hurt us."
"What about Selena?"
"She can take care of herself and Forsberg is armed."
"Copy that," Lamont said.
Nick felt the adrenaline rush just as the first man reached him and swung at him with a pipe. Nick blocked the blow and broke the man's elbow.
"Aaaahhhh!"
The scream echoed across the yard.
All Nick's senses came alive. Time slowed. He was aware of the pipe swinger falling to the ground, grasping at his arm and screaming. He was aware of Ronnie and Lamont wading into the crowd. Training took over, responses drilled into him over years and honed with countless hours of practice.
He felt his blows landing. Someone slashed at him with a knife and cut through his jacket. He kicked the man's knee, forcing it into an impossible angle. The man cried out as he went down. Nick kicked him in the head. The knife flew out of his hand. Somebody jumped on his back. He grabbed an arm and jacket and levered the attacker over his hip and down. The man's head hit the hard ground. He stopped moving.
There was a shot, a sharp crack echoing in the cold air. Somebody yelled out. Nick looked that way and saw Selena. She was all movement, arms and legs a blur. Her attackers went down before her as if she were wielding a scythe. Three men lay on the ground nearby. A fourth went down as he watched.
Then it was over. The men still standing ran back into the building. Nick knew they'd be back in minutes, with reinforcements.
Forsberg was on his knees, holding his side. Blood seeped between his fingers. His pistol lay on the ground beside him. Selena bent down and picked it up.
Alf Nilsson lay on the ground, unconscious, bleeding from a head wound.
Selena came over to Nick. Her face was flushed. There was a long rip in her parka where someone had slashed at her with a knife.
"Are you all right?" she said.
"Yes. I was about to ask you the same thing."
"I'm good."
"Looks like you need a new jacket."
Ronnie and Lamont came up to them. Lamont was rubbing his shoulder.
"That was a hell of a brawl," Lamont said.
"You okay?" Nick asked.
"Yeah. Some asshole got me with a pipe. He's over there taking a nap with his buddies."
Eight or nine of the men who'd attacked them lay on the ground, some motionless, some groaning and moving around.
"We need to get out of here. Forsberg's hurt. Ronnie and Selena, take him to the car. Lamont, we'll get Nilsson. We can't leave him."
"I'm all right," Forsberg said. He staggered to his feet. "They'll come out again."
Nick and Lamont picked Nilsson up and ran with him to the car. They got him into the rear of the wagon as the doors of the refugee house burst open. A horde of angry men poured out, shouting and waving clubs.
"Time to boogie," Ronnie said.
They piled into the car.
"Selena, discourage them," Nick said.
Selena reached through the open window with Forsberg's pistol and fired three rounds into the ground in front of the charging mob. It stopped them long enough to get the Volvo away.
"I'm heading for a hospital," the driver said. The car accelerated. He hit his lights and siren.
Nilsson was still unconscious. Nick pressed Forsberg's hand against the bleeding wound.
"Keep pressure on it. Can you do that?"
"Yes."
"You'll be okay."
"Man, those people are crazy," Lamont said.
"It's like that at all over." Forsberg spoke between clenched teeth. "They're out of control. They think it's their right to do what they want."
Selena said, "They come here and are taken care of and then they act like this. I don't understand it."
"They're animals," Forsberg said. "We help them and they hate us. No one knows what to do. These are difficult times for my country."
"For the world," Nick said.
CHAPTER 6
Chief Superintendent Axel Bergstrom sat in his fourth floor office at national police headquarters, put his phone down and chewed on a fingernail. He looked out at Kronensberg Park across the way. In winter the park was a clean, snow filled space, a pleasant piece of the country in the heart of the city. In summer, it was green and lush, a favorite spot to take a lunch break or a walk. Usually Bergstrom found the view soothing. Not today. The call had changed that.
Bergstrom was assigned to the National Task Force, the intelligence and tactical division of the Swedish police responsible for dealing with hostage situations, terrorism and the reality of multiplying threats from every direction.
For years Sweden had been one of the most crime-free and peaceful nations in Europe, but those days were over. Murders were increasing. Drugs were everywhere. The overwhelming influx of refugees and immigrants fleeing the wars in the Middle East had brought with it a host of new problems.
Bergstrom had been a policeman for thirty-five years and would go no farther in his career. He'd had spent his adult life without doing any of the things he'd really wanted to do. When his wife had been alive he'd wanted to travel, but except for one holiday in Spain, they hadn't gone anywhere outside the country. Travel was a luxury he'd never been able to easily afford on his salary.