SOHLBERG AND THE WHITE DEATH:
AN INSPECTOR SOHLBERG MYSTERY
by
JENS AMUNDSEN
Published simultaneously in the USA and Norway.
Although inspired by real events, this book is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to any living person is purely coincidental except that specific references to real individuals are for historical purposes only and these include:
Tor Einar Eilertsen (Troms Police Superintendent);
Michel Neyret (Deputy Chief of Police, Lyon, France);
Salvatore Valente (Italy);
Leonid Minin (Ukraine; Switzerland);
Semion Mogilevich and Col. Timur Valiulin (Russia);
Prof. Rune Selbekk (GeoSciences Department at the University of Oslo); and,
Prof. Jurgen Mienert (Geology Dept. at the University of Tromsø).
SOHLBERG AND THE WHITE DEATH: an Inspector Sohlberg mystery.
A Vik Crime/Blue Salamander Edition 2013
Published in the United States by special arrangement of Nynorsk Forlag [Trondheim, Norway] with Nynorsk Forlag-USA/Blue Salamander [Seattle, WA].
SOHLBERG AND THE WHITE DEATH. Copyright (c) 2013 by Nynorsk Forlag.
Translation copyright (c) 2013 by Nynorsk Forlag.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taking, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.
An electronic format of this book has been specially priced to introduce readers to the best of Nordic literature dealing with crime, the criminal mind, the criminal justice system, and Scandinavian society.
FIRST U.S. EDITION.
Author and book information:
www.deadlybooks.com
www.jensamundsen.blogspot.com
Publisher information:
www.nynorskforlag.blogspot.com
Please send publisher and author inquiries to: nynorsk@ymail.com
Printed and Manufactured in the United States of America
Also by Jens Amundsen
[Inspector Sohlberg series]
Sohlberg and the Missing Schoolboy
Sohlberg and the Gift
Lost in Bergen
Skull Valley
The Trondheim Choir
ABOUT THE BOOK
The murder of an Interpol translator in France. Nine mutilated bodies found under a fish shack in remote Tromsø in northern Norway. A $ 6 million dollar bribe for a Norwegian detective. Chief Inspector Sohlberg is in danger.
There’s also one crime in the making that doesn’t even come close to the “Mass Murder” category. And that crime requires Sohlberg to do the unthinkable in this gripping novel about obsession, paranoia, organized crime, and whether it’s better for a few to be sacrificed so that many will live. Or is it better for many to be sacrificed so that a few get to live?
ABOUT THE HARALD SOHLBERG MYSTERY SERIES
The Inspector Sohlberg crime novels by Jens Amundsen join Scandinavia’s best crime detective series, including the Inspector Wallander series by Henning Mankell, Inspector Sejer series by Karin Fossum, Inspector Gunnarstranda series by K. O. Dahl, Detective Harry Hole series by Jo Nesbø, and Girl With Millenium trilogy by Stieg Larsson.
Jens Amundsen’s publisher, Nynorsk Forlag, is pleased to present his novels on Chief Inspector Harald Sohlberg. The Sohlberg novels masterfully blend the psychological novel into the crime, suspense, thriller, and detective genre.
DEDICATION
To my mother and father and wife who taught me that integrity and family are the only worthwhile achievements.
To Lise Amundsen for her song and support.
To Paul Klebnikov, Sergei Magnitsky, Alexander Perepilichny, and other brave whistleblowers who have been murdered after exposing the gigantic criminal mafia state known as Russia or Vladimir Putin’s “New Russia”.
To Sigve Bolstad and other friends who guided me in the underworld of organized crime.
To Magnus and Berit Nielsen who so generously rendered advice, lodgings, and plenty of delicious meals during my stay in Tromsø.
BOOK ONE: LITTLE DID I KNOW; OR, DEATH OF A TRANSLATOR
Chapter 1/Én
HEYRIEUX AND LYON, FRANCE:
MORNING AND NIGHT OF THE
DAY, APRIL 12
Chapter 2/To
LYON, FRANCE: MAY 14, OR
THIRTY-TWO DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 3/Tre
LYON, FRANCE: MAY 15, OR
THIRTY-THREE DAYS AFTER
THE DAY
Chapter 4/Fire
OR TWO MONTHS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 5/Fem
MILAN AND VAREDO, ITALY: JUNE 13, OR
TWO MONTHS AND ONE DAY AFTER
THE DAY
Chapter 6/Seks
PYONGYANG, NORTH KOREA:
JUNE 13 AND JUNE 14, OR
TWO MONTHS AND 2 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
BOOK TWO: THE TRAP
Chapter 7/Syv
MOSCOW, RUSSIA: MORNING OF TUESDAY
JULY 12, OR THREE MONTHS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 8/Åtte
ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA: WEDNESDAY
JULY 13, OR THREE MONTHS AND 1 DAY
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 9/Ni
RINGVASSØY ISLAND, NORWAY:
SUNDAY JULY 17, OR THREE MONTHS
AND 5 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 10/Ti
TROMS COUNTY, NORWAY: MONDAY
JULY 18, OR THREE MONTHS AND
6 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 11/Elleve
LYON, FRANCE: MORNING OF TUESDAY
JULY 19, OR THREE MONTHS AND 7 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 12/Tolv
LYON, FRANCE: AFTERNOON AND EVENING
OF TUESDAY JULY 19, OR THREE MONTHS
AND 7 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 13/Tretten
OSLO AND TROMSØ, NORWAY:
THURSDAY JULY 21, OR THREE
MONTHS AND 9 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 14/Fjorten
TROMSØ, NORWAY: FRIDAY JULY 22,
OR THREE MONTHS AND 10 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 15/Femten
PARIS AND LYON, FRANCE: THURSDAY
JULY 28, OR THREE MONTHS AND
16 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 16/Seksten
TROMSØ, NORWAY: JULY 28,
OR THREE MONTHS AND 16
DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 17/Sytten
TROMSØ, NORWAY: JULY 29,
OR THREE MONTHS AND 17
DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 18/Atten
TROMSØ, NORWAY: JULY 30, OR
THREE MONTHS AND 18 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 19/Nitten
TROMSØ, NORWAY: JULY 30, OR
THREE MONTHS AND 18 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 20/Tjue
LYON; BRUSSELS; LUXEMBOURG:
JULY 30, OR THREE MONTHS AND
18 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
BOOK THREE: WHEN IT WILL COME
Chapter 21/Tjueen
TROMSØ AND REINØYA ISLAND, NORWAY:
JULY 31, OR THREE MONTHS AND 19 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 22/Tjueto
LYON, FRANCE; JULY 31, OR
THREE MONTHS AND 19 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 23/Tjuetre
LYON AND PARIS, FRANCE;
AUGUST 1 AND 2, OR THREE
MONTHS AND 20 AND 21 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 24/Tjuefire
MONZA AND COMO, ITALY;
AUGUST 5, OR THREE MONTHS
AND 25 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 25/Tjuefem
MEGGEN AND ZURICH, SWITZERLAND:
AUGUST 5, OR THREE MONTHS AND
25 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 26/Tjueseks
LYON, FRANCE: AUGUST 11, OR THREE
MONTHS AND 30 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 27/Tjuesyv
LYON AND POUGNY, FRANCE: AUGUST 16, OR
FOUR MONTHS AND 4 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
BOOK FOUR: NO DOUBT DESERVED
Chapter 28/Tjueåtte
LYON AND CHALLEX, FRANCE:
SEPTEMBER 23 AND 25, OR FIVE
MONTHS AND 11 AND 13 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 29/Tjueni
LYON, FRANCE: SEPTEMBER 27 AND 28,
OR FIVE MONTHS AND 15 AND 16 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 30/Tretti
LYON, FRANCE; AND SPRUCE PINE,
NORTH CAROLINA: OCTOBER 13 AND
25, OR SIX MONTHS AND 1 AND 13 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 31/Trettien
GENEVA, SWITZERLAND; FT. MEADE,
MARYLAND; and, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA:
NOVEMBER 15, OR SEVEN MONTHS
AND 2 DAYS AFTER THE DAY
Chapter 32/Trettito
LYON, FRANCE: NOVEMBER 21,
OR SEVEN MONTHS AND 12 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY
BOOK ONE: LITTLE DID I KNOW; OR, DEATH OF A TRANSLATOR
Little did I know that our separation was to be forever.
— Valerian Albanov, Arctic Explorer; author [In the Land of White Death, 1917]
There's a man going around taking names.
— Johnny Cash song, The Man Comes Around.
Chapter 1/Én
HEYRIEUX AND LYON, FRANCE:
MORNING AND NIGHT OF THE
DAY, APRIL 12
One hundred. Chief Inspector Harald Sohlberg could not believe that he had finally reached the centenary mark. It was not a number to be proud of. But at one o’clock in the morning the number astonished the detective—a man who was rarely surprised about anything.
One hundred homicides. And that did not include all of the beatings and rapes and assorted other horrific crimes that he had investigated.
Sohlberg kneeled by the body. He examined the woman’s 9-mm bullet wounds. A clean dime-size hole on her left temple belied the messy and massive exit wound in the back of her skull. The second bullet had perforated her heart with a small entry hole in her sweater. Sohlberg could only imagine the damage to her back.
A bulldog in uniform watched Sohlberg. The senior gendarme in charge—Gendarmerie Colonel Jacques Daudet—stood behind Sohlberg with his short and thick legs slightly apart. Daudet swayed to the right and then to the left. Sohlberg wondered if the human bulldog was struggling under the weight of his low-slung and thick-set body.
“Time of death?”
“Less than three hours ago,” said Col. Daudet.
Sohlberg stood up and observed that Daudet was closely watching him. Daudet’s intelligent eyes studied every move and reaction of the Norwegian detective. Daudet was all about observation. He was known for looking over a crime scene for hours if not days. His colleagues even joked that God had built him to observe because he was so slow on foot thanks to his stubby legs.
Col. Daudet studied Sohlberg’s somber pale face and said:
“She was first shot in the head. She fell right there where the blood pooled around her head. She never moved. I lifted her shoulders . . . she was shot a second time where she fell . . . there’s a bullet that’s stuck in the floor . . . it went right through her chest.”
“Awful,” said Sohlberg. “I knew her . . . she immigrated from Turkey and worked for Interpol as a translator.” Sohlberg wondered how her life could have ended so brutally. She seemed happy at work and with her boyfriend. She often joked about “Living in paradise” in a cozy stone cottage at the outskirts of Heyrieux. The little French town was about 10 miles southeast of Lyon and the worst crimes in Heyrieux were stolen hens and the occasional prank gone awry. But not tonight.
A low moan emanated from the kitchen. Sohlberg looked up. The woman’s Portugese boyfriend sat by a table in the kitchen muttering something with his head hung low.
“How’s he taking it?” said Sohlberg in his atrocious French.
“Intravenously. . . .”
“What?”
“Heroin. We found a half-kilo stash under their bed . . . along with plenty of syringes and needles. I expect that we’ll find more. He’s in a comfy White Daze.”
“Was he here . . . was he also shot?”
“He was here. And no . . . he wasn’t shot.”
“Oh? . . .”
“The neighbors called. They heard three shots. I came in . . . saw him sprawled on the floor near her. I smelled both of his hands . . . they reeked of gunpowder . . . we tested him. I’m sure that he will come up positive for residue.”
“Where’s the third bullet? . . . Did he try to kill himself?”
“Bullet number three is up there in the wall. . . . As for a murder and an attempted suicide . . . who knows? . . . The bullet in the wall may be from him trying to shoot himself in the head and missing the shot. But we haven’t found the gun.”
“What? . . . The gun is missing?”
“Gone. Nowhere to be found. . . .”
Sohlberg took a deep breath. This was an unexpected complication.
Daudet cleared his throat and said, “As soon as we find where he hid the gun I’m sure that his prints will be all over the weapon.”
“Maybe.”
“Chief Inspector . . . do you want to take a look around and see if she brought anything from work?”
“Yes. That’s a good idea. By the way . . . why did you call me?”
“She had your business card in her purse. So I called you.”
“Why not call Interpol itself? . . . They’ve got a main number.”
“I did . . . Chief Inspector. But I got the run-around after I reached the main switchboard . . . they sent me from one operator to another . . . after an hour I finally had a name . . . but all I got was that person’s voicemail greeting.”
“Typical.”
“I apologize for getting you out here this late on a Saturday night. But I figured someone from Interpol needed to be here. It’s not just any day that an Interpol employee gets shot to death in a house with a stash of heroin.”
Sohlberg nodded. He wanted to say that it also wasn’t just any day that an Interpol employee met a violent death while working on the agency’s top secret Operation Locust. He walked around the three small rooms inside the stone cottage and found nothing of interest in the tiny living-dining room, the miniature kitchen, the little bedroom, and the closet of a bathroom.
“Can I look in their car?”
“Yes . . . but don’t take anything.”
“Of course not.”
The cold damp of the darkness outside reminded Sohlberg that Death is almost always the unexpected and unwelcome thief. Shivers crept up and down Sohlberg’s spine as if a dozen poisonous spiders had been let loose under his shirt. He put on his gloves and opened the door of the old Fiat which creaked when he got inside.
He felt around under the seats.
To his surprise the carpet under the passenger seat covered a laptop computer. He got an even bigger surprise when he pulled the computer out and saw that a thumb drive was still attached to the computer. He instantly recognized the color and manufacturer of the 32 GB flash drive. It was the exact same brand and make that Interpol used to copy large files.
The Norwegian detective hailed a crime scene technician who placed the computer and its little external drive in a plastic bag for evidence. After showing the technician where he had
found the two items Sohlberg walked a discrete distance down the driveway and he took out his cell phone.
“Laprade . . . give me a call. It’s urgent.”
His hands shook with rage over the murder of his young and charming translator.
Did Otelo Carvalho the boyfriend really kill her?
If not him then who?
Why?
Sohlberg got lost in a jumble of memories of the vivacious Azra Korbal. He waited fifteen minutes for a return call from Bruno de Laprade—a commissaire de police with the Police Judiciaire or French National Police.
Where’s Laprade?
Bruno Laprade should answer the call. It was his duty as a senior officer in the Major Case squad at OCRTIS or the Central Office for the Suppression of Illicit Trafficking in Drugs. The head of OCRTIS himself had picked the commissaire to handle Operation Locust inside France because Laprade was known as a ruthless ex-military man who got things done. He was a rising star in the Sub-Directorate for Organized Crime and Financial Crimes (SDLCODF) and he was always on call 24-by-7 when it came to Operation Locust. It was not like him to not pick up the phone.
Sohlberg dialed again and said:
“Laprade. Call me.”
Where was Laprade?
Sohlberg remembered that the commissaire sometimes spent weekends with a female friend—a widow whom Laprade rarely mentioned.