Midnight In Malmö: The Fourth Inspector Anita Sundström Mystery (The Malmö Mysteries Book 4) (9 page)

‘The red handkerchief? Could it possibly have come from Lenin?’ asked Anita, whose police instincts demanded proof.

‘I’ve read everything I can around the whole Lenin journey to see if I can find any reference to a red handkerchief. Though the party set off from Zurich, a group of five started out at Geneva. When they were boarding the train to Zurich to meet up with the rest, they were seen off by an enthusiastic crowd of well-wishers. One of them thrust a red handkerchief through the train window into the hands of a young comrade called David Souliashvili. It was to serve as a revolutionary flag. It’s perfectly conceivable that Souliashvili passed it on to Lenin when he reached Zurich.’

‘OK, I can buy that,’ said Anita thoughtfully. ‘But who was the assassin? Or, more importantly, who was he working for?’

‘Albin Rylander looked into this. Of course, his father had no idea. He didn’t even know who Lenin was until he rose to power in Russia later on and the whole world got to know him. Albin said it might have been a former agent of the Okhrana; the Tsarist secret police. After the original February Revolution, they had disappeared real quick. It wasn’t safe to be a secret policeman after that. Bizarrely, the Okhrana had actively promoted the Bolsheviks before the Revolution because they thought they were relatively harmless compared to the more violent revolutionary groups. The would-be assassin may have come from one of those rival groups. The Mensheviks perhaps. Lenin arriving in Russia would be a threat to their ambitions for power. Of course, Lenin was to outmanoeuvre the lot. Or, it might have been someone sent by the Kerensky government. Again, Lenin’s presence in Russia would inevitably destabilize an already shaky regime.’

‘You mentioned the British before.’ Kevin was on the edge of his seat. This was a journey into unknown history for him.

‘Rylander’s money was on the British. We know that Arthur Balfour, the British Foreign Secretary at the time, was in contact with the British ambassador in Berne to find out about the train negotiations, and then was constantly in touch with the ambassador in Petrograd, Sir George Buchanan. He enquired of him – what were the words? – “whether the Russian government intended to take any steps to counter this danger”. They were already holding Trotsky in Halifax, Nova Scotia, having taken him off a Russia-bound ship from New York. They knew that Trotsky was a revolutionary leader being funded by the Germans. Before Lenin reached Sweden, the ambassadors of the Allied powers in Stockholm met to discuss whether to put pressure on the Swedish government to refuse the “arch-revolutionary” Lenin transit through the country. Officially, they decided that they’d not interfere as it might make matters worse. The British ambassador, Lord Esme Howard, explained to Balfour that the plan to stop Lenin “seemed impossible”. But Albin Rylander thinks that the British, independently of the other Allies, decided to take matters into their own hands. Anyway, whoever was behind the assassination attempt; they didn’t succeed.’

‘Why didn’t Lenin talk about the incident?’

‘Difficult to know. I guess he had no idea who was behind it. If he suspected the British were involved, or even the Kerensky government, he might have been able to make some political capital out of it. Or maybe it wasn’t his style. When there were later attempts on his life, they were played down by the Bolsheviks. They didn’t want to give the impression that they were not in control. Of course, his detractors might have accused him of making the whole thing up. After all, there was only Lenin, an obscure Swedish waiter and an unknown assassin who were in that corridor at the time. I suspect he was more concerned about how he was going to get to Petrograd in one piece.’

‘Quite a tale,’ Kevin said, with an appreciative nod of the head. ‘Without the quick-thinking Oscar, history would have taken a totally different course.’

‘Klas, I don’t understand.’ Anita had looked increasingly thoughtful. ‘If this was Rylander’s big “secret”, surely no one was going to kill him for it?’

Lennartsson stared hard at Anita. ‘Oh, that wasn’t his big secret. The Lenin story was somehow connected. I don’t know how. But there was something far more important, far more damaging. He didn’t live long enough to tell me.’

‘Why did his father only tell him about Lenin on his deathbed?’ Kevin almost demanded.

‘It seems that Oscar was horrified at what he had done after the Russian Revolution developed into the communist state that followed. He realized that by acting the way he did, he had altered history. He believed that he had, inadvertently, played a part in helping what he saw as an evil regime come into power.’

‘How extraordinary. So, do you think that an impressionable Albin inherited his father’s attitude to the Soviet Union?’

‘It certainly makes sense. It explains his subsequent career and views.’

‘It’s a pity that he didn’t live long enough to tell you everything. Is this where it ends?’

‘No, Kevin, it doesn’t end here. I have clues. Rylander once said that it began and ended in Wilhelmstrasse. I’ve got an address of someone in Berlin who might be able to help. Albin said that after he had told me his story, I could verify it over there through this contact. So, I’ve booked a flight.’ Then he looked defiantly at Anita. ‘And I also intend to find out the truth behind Albin Rylander’s death, even if the police, and you, Anita, won’t help.’

The beach was well populated. The hot summer Sunday had brought out families and groups of young people onto the warm sands. Anita had prepared a picnic lunch, which had been devoured quickly. She wondered if Lasse and Jazmin were eating properly at home. Kevin and the long-limbed Lasse were having an impromptu kick around. She was pleased that they seemed to have hit it off. Football had been the key that had opened the door.

‘How are things with your parents?’ Anita asked while she had Jazmin to herself. She had grown fond of this feisty, sometimes explosive, pretty girl who wore eccentric clothes, sported wacky hairstyles and had strong views on gender politics; all of which had led to the inevitable battles with her Iraqi father. Anita admired her determination to be her own woman, which she herself had never really had the courage to do. Anita knew she was too Swedish, too conventional, too ready to accept rules and the status quo.

‘So, so.’ Jazmin had made an effort with a neat blue top and denim skirt which she had picked up from the second-hand chain, Myrorna. In her mind’s eye, Anita could see Lasse pleading with her not to be too outrageous when meeting his mamma’s new boyfriend. ‘It makes it easier now that the
wonderful
Hakim is back home. Gives my mother something to fuss over.’

‘Are they warming to Lasse?’

Jazmin smirked. ‘Mother likes him because he’s so polite. Makes a nice change from me! My father still wishes that he was an Arab or a Muslim, or preferably both, but I know that he likes him. Not that he will admit it.’

‘And are you both getting on OK?’

‘Is this a police interview?’

‘No, no,’ Anita said quickly before she realized that Jazmin was mocking her.

‘Yes, we’re good. I think Lasse has lost some of his friends because of me. But that comes with the territory.’

‘Then they’re not real friends.’

‘And the same applies to me. But my best friends think he’s nice. It’s the first time they’ve mixed socially with a white boy.’

‘This is the last question! How’s Lasse getting on at the uni? He’s never very forthcoming; doesn’t chat to me like he used to.’

‘And that’s my fault?’ A certain prickliness was evident in her voice.

‘Don’t worry, Jazmin. It’s nothing to do with you. He changed after he went off to Norrköping.’

‘Rebecka?’

‘Yes, the dreadful Rebecka.’

‘So, I’m an improvement?’ The amused look had returned.

‘Oh, yes.’

‘To answer your
last
question, he’s doing fine. Or so he tells me. He works hard and he never skips lectures. Well, not many.’

Just then, Kevin came over to retrieve a miss-kicked ball. He smiled at Anita. ‘I’ll show Barcelona Boy what Colchester United can do.’ With that, he belted the ball back at Lasse, who dived to save it between their improvised towel goalposts.

Jazmin lay back on the rug and put on her sunglasses. For a while, she seemed happy to enjoy the sun, which was now high in the sky. Anita tidied up the picnic things. Yet she could sense that not all was right with Jazmin. She hoped that there wasn’t a problem between her and Lasse. He was settled. He was happier than he had been for a long time.

‘I think someone’s watching our apartment. Watching us.’ Jazmin hadn’t moved a muscle and was continuing to stare up at the sky.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I think so.’

‘Have you seen anyone?’

‘No. That’s the daft thing. It’s just a shadow… a feeling.’

‘Lasse didn’t mention it.’

‘I don’t think he believes me. Told me not to fuss. Maybe I’m just being stupid. Too much imagination.’

‘Or female intuition?’

Jazmin gave a soft snort. ‘Something like that. It’s just a bit creepy. It hasn’t happened in the last few days. Before. Maybe they’ve gone, or I really am just imagining things.’

Anita knew Jazmin well enough to know that she wouldn’t be easily fazed by much.

‘Have you told your brother?’

‘Phew, Hakim! You’re kidding!’

‘If it continues, let
me
know, then.’

Anita wasn’t happy that they lived in Rosengård, a notoriously rough area of the city. High numbers of immigrants, high numbers of unemployed and a high number of crimes committed didn’t make it the most salubrious place. She knew how much the police hated going there, particularly since the riots of 2010. The Malmö Fire Department wouldn’t attend fires without a police escort. But a few did escape the hopelessness; like Zlatan Ibrahimović and Rebstar. But a young couple like Lasse and Jazmin couldn’t afford to rent anywhere else. She could imagine that someone like Lasse might be looked upon with suspicion. This might be where Jazmin’s anxieties were stemming from.

Jazmin propped herself up on her elbow. ‘That’ll make me the first person in Rosengård to turn to the police for help.’

‘I’m not the police. I’m family.’

‘He liked you.’

‘That’s a relief. I liked him, even if he does support Barcelona.’

‘That’s an annoying habit he picked up when he was with Rebecka, his last girlfriend.’ Anita was in the process of making a pre-bedtime cup of camomile and honey tea. ‘When she disappeared off the scene, I thought he’d come back and support Malmö FF.’

‘His local team.’

‘Exactly. But they obviously seem a bit of a comedown after the Nou Camp.’

‘He should live in my world. Colchester isn’t the sexiest team on the planet.’

Anita handed Kevin a mug, and she joined him at the kitchen table. It had been a good day. Kevin had passed the Lasse test, and she had felt more at ease with Jazmin. She hoped that was reciprocated. The young woman still had various chips on her shoulder which would take time to brush off, but she was what Lasse needed at this moment. Yet she couldn’t help feeling a tinge of jealousy that her place had been usurped. And she had been unsettled by Jazmin’s story, but hoped that there was nothing in it. She pushed it to the back of her mind.

‘What have you got planned for tomorrow?’ Kevin asked as he let his tea cool.

‘I’m quite happy to take it easy, if that’s OK with you. But later in the week, we’ll go to Bornholm.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘It’s a Danish island out there in the Baltic. We can get a catamaran from Simrishamn, and it takes about an hour. It’s beautiful.’

‘Sounds great. I’ll look it up on your computer tomorrow, if you don’t mind. I like to find out about a place before I visit.’

Just then, they heard a motorbike heading along the road towards the house. Anita pulled a face. ‘Please let it not be Klas. I’m not in the mood for him and his conspiracy theories just now – or another history lesson.’

‘I thought it was really interesting.’

‘Well, you can talk to him. I’m off to bed before he comes in.’

She nimbly slipped out of her seat and, mug in hand and a pitying look on her face, was in the bedroom before there was a knock on the door.

Kevin opened the door; Klas was standing there in his full leather gear. Under his arm was a large box file.

‘Is Anita in?’

Kevin managed an apologetic face. ‘I’m sorry, Klas, but she’s gone to bed. She’s had a busy day with the family over,’ he added as though he had to give a plausible excuse for her absence.

‘It’s OK. Can you look after this?’ said Klas, handing over the file.

Even in the half-dark, Kevin sensed his agitation. He looked at him with some surprise. ‘What’s in here?’

‘All the notes of my interviews and all my information on Rylander. Some CDs as well that I used to record our sessions.’

‘But why bring them here?’

‘I’m off to Berlin tomorrow, and I don’t want to leave them in my house. They’ll be safer with you.’

Kevin hesitated. ‘Do you think they might get stolen?’

‘Someone tried to break into my house last night. I frightened them off.’

‘You think they’re after all this stuff?’

‘At the moment, I only trust Anita. She’ll look after them until I get back. I’ll only be gone for two days.’

With that, Lennartsson got on his motorbike. Kevin watched him until he’d roared out of sight.

When Kevin came back inside, Anita appeared at the kitchen door.

‘I’m amazed you got rid of him so quickly.’

‘He left this.’ Kevin put the file on the kitchen table. ‘It’s all his research material on Rylander. He wants you to keep it safe while he’s in Germany.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Honestly!’

‘He seems to think that someone tried to break into his place last night.’

‘I doubt if local burglars would worry about that lot.’

‘He seemed genuinely concerned.’

‘All right. Bring it into the bedroom. The wardrobe is the only thing in the house with a lock on it. We’ll put it in there. Oh, bloody Klas!’ She knew she would worry about the file until he took it back. ‘He’s just being melodramatic.’