Never Fuck Up: A Novel (14 page)
They turned him down. Brutal.
Kh’tas
—cunts. It was unfair.
“Let’s split.”
Mahmud wanted out, wanted to go to Blue Moon Bar instead. Ask around for the Lebanese.
Babak laughed. “No, let’s
split
a bag o’ yay instead.” Ha-ha-ha.
An hour later. The C-rush’d settled. But still: Mahmud felt like the city’s finest Million Program
blatte,
the world’s number one smartest concrete detective—Sherlock fucking Holmes. He was gonna find Wisam. Make him confess where he’d buried Radovan’s Arlanda cash. Force him to deliver. Give himself the chance to impress. Get the Yugos’ protection.
Robert slid onto the dance floor with a honey that looked like jailbait. Mahmud and Babak stayed put at the bar as usual.
Then he saw something he didn’t want to see. The sound died. His head burned. Around him: a little island of panic. A few yards away at the bar—Daniel and two other guys from that night.
Mahmud froze. Stared at the bottles on the other side of the bar. Tried to focus his gaze. Fuck. What was he gonna do? Panic washed in waves against the inside of his skull. The memories returned: the grind of metal in his mouth. The roulette sound from the spinning cylinder. Daniel’s grin.
He tried not to glance over at them. Had to keep his cool. Did they see him? If they came up to him he didn’t know how he’d react. Babak didn’t seem to notice him wigging out. The people around him grew blurry.
Afterward, when Mahmud thought about the situation, he couldn’t remember how long he’d been standing that way. Nauseous. Stiff. How many scared thoughts’d zipped through his brain.
But after a good while he looked up. They were gone.
He didn’t give a shit about Babak and Robert. Saw that Babak was trying to snare a puma. Coke rings around the girl’s nose. Lipstick on Babak’s cheeks. Good for him.
Mahmud wanted out. And he had to get to Blue Moon Bar. Now. He slipped out of Sturecompagniet. The line outside was three times as long as when they’d arrived. The desperation in people’s eyes—thirty times as thick. The head bouncer was still at his post, deciding in or out, winner or loser, life or death.
Up Kungsgatan. The air was colder. Where’d the summer run off to?
He thought about sinking a burger, but decided not to. Needed to do his thing at Blue Moon. Farther up, he saw the place.
Blue Moon Bar was boasting a good line, too.
Short, wide bouncers in excess. Mahmud thought, You gotta be a midget to get a job here, or what?
Mahmud slid straight up to the VIP entrance. Past the line. Up to a bouncer. Met Mahmud’s gaze. That special understanding between big dudes.
He pulled a classic move—this place wasn’t as hard to get into as Sturecompagniet—offered a five-hundred-kronor bill, without saying a word.
The bouncer cube asked, “You alone?”
Mahmud nodded.
The bouncer pushed the bill away. “It’s cool.”
Mahmud went inside. Paid the hundred-kronor entrance fee; the price wasn’t as wack as the other place. Surprised by the bouncer’s class. Mahmud’d actually been treated good.
He eyed the place. The lower level: surplus of guys—Syriacs with mullets and shirts unbuttoned, showing their shaved chests; Svens with groomed beards; brothas with sideways caps and fake bling in their ears.
A blue glow was blinking in time to the techno: “This is the rhythm of the night.”
He moved on. The next level: a more even division of the
sexes—meat market galore. People entwined on the dance floor, dudes squeezing tits in couch corners, bitches licking those same dudes’ ears and massaging their cocks through their pants. Wunder-Baum—Mahmud would’ve loved to pick up some little honey.
But not now.
He stepped up to the bar. Ordered a mojito. Usually boozing wasn’t his style, other than maybe bubbly for the bitches’ sake. He liked smoking up and getting high—but not so loaded you lost control. Only Svens drank away their dignity that way. And if you got in a fight, you didn’t have a chance. Plus: too many calories.
He was leaning against the bar. The mojito with a cocktail straw in his hand. Stirred. The ice cubes made his teeth hurt. He counted face-suckers.
He leaned over toward the bartender who’d served him. The guy was in his mid-twenties, Asian appearance.
“You know who Wisam is? Wisam Jibril, chill guy from Botkyrka. Lots of dough. Used to come here. Remember him?”
The bartender shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. Does he come here often?”
“Don’t know. But he used to hang here all the time a few years back. Did you work here then?”
The bartender dude wiped a glass. Looked like he was considering. “No, but check with Anton. He’s been here every damn weekend for the past five years. Totally crazy.” He pointed at another guy in the bar.
Mahmud tried to get the Anton boy’s attention for, like, five minutes. No success. Plenty of time to really check him out. Tight T-shirt that showed off the black tribal tattoos on his biceps, fake-messy hairstyle, broad leather bands on both wrists, metal rings on his fingers. The guy wasn’t built but in okay shape.
Finally: Mahmud tried another trick. Waved the five-hundred-kronor bill again. Anton reacted. A classic.
He tried to speak over the music. Pointed over toward the first bartender. “He said you’ve worked here awhile. Remember Wisam Jibril? He used to hang here all the time.”
Anton smiled. “Course I remember Wisam. A legend in his day.”
Mahmud placed the bill on the bar.
“This isn’t a good place to talk. Wanna go somewhere quieter for a few? My treat.”
Anton didn’t seem to get it. Continued pouring a drink for a chick
who looked totally stoned. Didn’t he understand the most common memory aid of them all?
But after a few seconds, Anton stepped out from behind the bar. Ushered Mahmud in front of him. Toward the men’s bathroom.
The dude positioned himself by a urinal. Pulled out his dick.
Mahmud next to him: did the same thing. Bad move—he got stage fright, couldn’t squeeze a drop. That’d never happened before. He was usually the fucking pissing king. But he knew why—the memory of the piss stain from the forest returned.
He looked down: the drain was chock full of tobacco and gum.
“Tell me. You seen him here lately?”
Anton zipped his fly.
“Yessiree. Wisam used to hang here all the time. Slayed ladies like a b-ball pro, Dennis Rodman–style. You know, he’s had sex with over two and a half thousand chicks. Can you believe that? Two and a half thousand, damn.”
“Who? Dennis Rodman or Wisam?”
“Rodman, of course. But Wisam was awesome. He’s got that little extra something. When he goes in for the kill, no lady can resist.”
Mahmud thought, Yessiree—the dude was an even bigger Sven clown than he looked.
“Okay. But have you seen him lately?”
“Actually, yes. For the first time in three years, I think. There were so many rumors, you know. That he’d made millions on the stock market. That he sold stuff. That he had a manual for how to blow CITs. You know, all kinds of stuff. But people talk so much.”
Bingo—Anton’d heard stuff about Jibril.
“All I know is he spent dough with class. I mean, I’ve seen some stuff.”
Ka-ching
, right there.
Mahmud had to tread carefully now, wanted to avoid having the bartender think his interest in Wisam Jibril was a little too big.
Mahmud looked around. “Damn,” was all he could muster.
Anton looked questioningly at him. What else did he want? Mahmud gripped his arm.
The bartender looked up. Mahmud stared back. Held the guy’s forearm hard. Felt the guy’s muscles tighten in his grip. Sent a signal, clear as day: If you leave now, there’ll be problems.
Mahmud didn’t wait. Pulled Anton into a toilet stall.
“Tell me more. What do you know?”
The bartender fidgeted. Eyes wide open. Still, he didn’t resist. Mahmud fingered the roll of bills in his pocket. Pulled out a grand.
Anton didn’t move a muscle. Looked like he was thinking. Then he spilled.
“He was here for, like, two hours. Picked up two chicks. That was a few weekends ago. I’m pretty sure it was May Day. I don’t know that much else. Honestly, I have no idea.”
Mahmud picked up on the second to last sentence: “That much else.” What did the guy mean? He obviously knew more.
“Anton, out with it. You know something.” He flexed the muscles in his forearms. Black letters against olive skin.
Alby Forever
. Had the desired effect.
“Okay, okay. The chicks were here last weekend. They chatted with me for a few minutes and were totally blown away. Wisam’d apparently rained money on them like he was an oil sheik. He took the girls back to his apartment, I don’t know where it is. And the girls probably don’t know either, ’cause they told me they were shitfaced. He drove them around in his new car. A Bentley.”
Mahmud didn’t understand.
Anton spelled it out: “B-E-N-T-L-E-Y. Totally insane. That’s all I know. I swear.”
Someone pounded on the door. “Boys, this isn’t a fairy bar. Come outta there.”
Mahmud’d gotten enough info for tonight. He had some leads to follow up.
Opened the door. Stepped out of the stall, shoving the jerk who’d bullshitted outside.
Left Anton with the laughs.
* * *
Settergren’s Law Offices
To the Sollentuna District Court
COMPLAINT FOR BREACH OF CONTRACT
PLAINTIFF Barclays Bank Plc., 34 George St., London, England
ATTORNEY FOR PLAINTIFF Roger Holmgren, Esq., and Nathalie Rosenskiöld, Esq., Settergren’s Law Offices AB, 12 Strandvägen, Stockholm
DEFENDANT Airline Cargo Logistics AB
CASE Breach of Contract
APPLICABLE LAW Chapter 9, § 28, The Aviation Act (1957:297)
Barclays Bank Plc (“Barclays”) hereby pursues a lawsuit against Airline Cargo Logistics AB (“Cargo Logistics”) as follows:
FIRST CAUSE OF ACTION FOR BREACH OF CONTRACT
Barclays claims that Cargo Logistics owes Barclays Capital 5,569,588 U.S. Dollars plus interest according to § 6 of the Interest Law for breach of contract, due within 30 days of the issuance of the District Court’s Decision.
Barclays claims the right to compensation for all attorneys’ fees incurred, in an amount that will be given at a later time.
GROUNDS
Barclays and Cargo Logistics have entered into an agreement for air transport of a number of courier bags containing different currencies with a total value of 5,569,588 U.S. Dollars. These courier bags have, while they were in the care of Cargo Logistics at Arlanda Aiport, been the subject of armed robbery. Courier bags containing currency equaling the above-mentioned sum have thereby been lost.
According to chapter 9, § 18 of the Aviation Act, the freight carrier is responsible for damages incurred when the checked cargo, in this case the courier bags, is lost, reduced, or damaged while the cargo is in the freight carrier’s care at an airport.
Barclays alleges that Cargo Logistics, through severe breach of the requisite care and consideration demanded, is responsible for the incurred damage in full.
THE CIRCUMSTANCES IN DETAIL
Barclays’s contract with the Swedish banks and Cargo Logistics
Barclays regularly buys shipments of different currencies from three Swedish banks: SEB, Svenska Handelsbanken, and FöreningsSparbanken (Swedbank).
According to a contract from 2001, Cargo Logistics had, by request of Barclays Bank, on a regular basis agreed to provide pickup and transport of courier bags containing currency from banks in Stockholm and arrange for air transport to London.
The transport relevant to this case followed the procedure
that is routinely applied to Cargo Logistics. Barclays sent a telefax message to Cargo Logistics with the request that Cargo Logistics pick up a number of courier bags containing currency from the three Swedish banks, arrange for air transport from Stockholm to London, as well as fax a copy of the Air Waybill as soon as possible (Attachments 1–5). According to the instructions, the items would be prepared for air transport and the average value of each courier bag would not exceed 500,000 U.S. Dollars. At the time, the dollar was at 7.32 SEK.
Cargo Logistics’ pickup of the cargo to bring to Arlanda Airport
On the morning of April 5, 2005, Cargo Logistics picked up a total of 19 courier bags at the three Swedish banks in downtown Stockholm, divided as detailed in Attachment 6. The job was executed by two employees from Cargo Logistics, Göran Olofsson and Roger Boring, using a vehicle adapted to service Cash-in-Transit. Olofsson had worked with Cargo Logistics for 20 years and Boring for 5 years. In accordance with standard procedures, neither Olofsson nor Boring knew anything about the value of the courier bags that were to be picked up.
At 1415 on the same afternoon, Olfsson and Boring arrived at the office of Wilson & Co—the freight agent—at Arlanda Airport, where they picked up the Air Waybill along with documentation marking the cargo. Olofsson and Boring then drove around 165 feet to Cargo Logistics’s warehouse on the airport grounds, where they delivered the 19 courier bags.
Cargo Logistics’ delivery
At around 1500 on the afternoon of the same day, Cargo Logistics’ warehouse acknowledged the receipt of the 19 courier bags by issuing a document entitled “Handling Report—Cargo Logistics—Valuable Cargo” (Attachment 7). Staff from Cargo Logistics placed the courier bags in locked safety boxes that were brought to a room in the warehouse that is called the “strong room” (hereafter referred to as “the vault”), where valuable cargo is locked and stored.
Armed robbery
The flight that the safe boxes would be traveling on was supposed to depart on the evening of April 5, at 1825. At around 1800, Fredrik Öberg, an employee of Cargo Logistics, was working inside the warehouse, moving safe boxes from the vault to the Cargo Logistics truck. The truck, a Nissan King Cab, would
transport the courier bags to the airplane. While the work of moving the cargo was being executed, the door to the vault was open, as was the garage entrance to the warehouse, which faced the airport area. The warehouse’s emergency-exit door toward the street outside the airport area was also propped open in connection with the recent arrival of a courier from the courier service company Box Delivery. The emergency-exit door is situated directly adjacent to the vault.
At this time, around 1810, three men, two of whom were armed with firearms, entered the warehouse through the open emergency exit. The robbers threatened the courier from Box Delivery and Öberg, who were forced to lie down on the floor while the robbers took nine safe boxes from inside the vault. While Öberg was lying on the floor, he used his cell phone to call Falck Security, the security company at Arlanda Airport, and informed them that a robbery was taking place. Strangely enough, the Falck employee who received the call told Öberg to contact the police instead.
After the robbery, the perpetrators disappeared from the scene using a BMW 528, which has still not been found, and a stolen Jeep Cherokee, which was later found abandoned around 1–2 miles from the scene of the crime, with one safe box remaining inside. The robbery was immediately reported to the Arlanda police.
No camera surveillance
The Cargo Logistics warehouse is equipped with a total of 75 CCTV (video) surveillance cameras that run 24 hours a day. After the robbery, it appeared that the videotape in the camera located in the part of the warehouse where the robbery took place had not been replaced according to standard procedure (the videotape is 27 hours long). The videotape in the camera in question had therefore ceased to record at around 1300 on April 5, and the robbery was consequently not recorded.
Open emergency exit
The vault in the Cargo Logistics warehouse is situated directly adjacent to the emergency-exit door that leads to the street outside the airport area. The emergency-exit door cannot be opened from the outside and, according to Cargo Logistics’s standard procedure, is to remain closed. Despite this, the emergency-exit door had been left open at the time of the robbery, which made it possible for the robbers to enter the warehouse from the street outside the airport. The reason the
emergency-exit door was not closed after the courier from Box Delivery had entered has not yet been determined.
Open vault
According to Cargo Logistics’ standard operating procedure, the door to the vault can only be opened by two persons together, one of whom (of managerial rank) uses an electronic key. In the situation in question, the door to the vault was ajar, whereby the robbers, after they had entered the warehouse through the open emergency-exit door, were granted direct access to the open vault. The reason for the vault door being left open has not yet been determined.
The preliminary investigation has been dropped
No perpetrators have yet been arrested. The prosecutor has decided to drop the preliminary investigation.
Cargo Logistics’ responsibility
Barclays alleges that, in the present circumstances, Cargo Logistics either deliberately caused the damage or is guilty of the kind of qualified neglect outlined in chapter 9, § 24 of the Aviation Act and which chiefly corresponds to severe neglect of a commercial contractual relationship. The following circumstances, among others, are of importance:
(i) The robbers were granted access to the warehouse from the street outside the airport area because the emergency-exit door was left open, which is against Cargo Logistics’ applicable rules and procedures.
(ii) Against Cargo Logistics’ applicable rules and procedures, the door to the vault was open, which granted the robbers immediate access to the open vault once they had entered the warehouse through the open emergency-exit door.
(iii) Cargo Logistics has neglected to follow applicable security rules and procedures by not replacing the videotape in the surveillance camera in the specific part of the warehouse where the robbery took place, whereby the robbery was not recorded.
(iv) This is a matter of a commercial relationship and the demands on Cargo Logistics’ organization, security, and professionalism can therefore be high.
(v) Significant damage has been incurred.
Stockholm.
Roger Holmgren, Esq.
