Grendel's Game by Erik Mauritzson

criminals away that he’d become a victim himself. Like so many others, he was enraged at the violation, and at the same time had a humiliating feeling of powerlessness.
    Ekman thanked God he hadn’t taken his gun. He was so angry that in the heat of the moment he might have lost control and shot at them. He was appalled that he was capable of reacting so violently. Ekman had always practiced rigid self-control. In all his time as a police officer, he’d never had to fire his weapon at anyone.
    With only a lightning glimpse of the helmeted driver and rider, it was hard to tell, but from their slender body builds he felt they were quite young. Despite the tension of the moment he half-smiled to himself imagining Malmer’s horrified reaction to what might have been tomorrow’s headline, “ Chief Superintendent Kills Boys Over Stolen Briefcase .”
    Still somewhat shaken, he thought, what are you going to do about this Ekman, file an official report you’ve been robbed? Not very likely. He’d become a laughing stock, even though there was nothing he could have done to prevent it except, of course, to have stepped to his left. Too late now.
    But the robbery couldn’t just be ignored. He probably wasn’t their first victim, and wouldn’t be their last. They had to be stopped before someone was hurt, as well as robbed. And besides, he missed his briefcase. Maybe it could be recovered.
    If this had to happen, he was glad it was after he’d left the papers with Edvardsson. The briefcase had been empty.
    Back at the office, he asked Holm to come in. “Please close the door, Enar,” he said.
    He told Holm about his conversation with Edvardsson and observed, “We’re going to have to work even faster, now that there’s a deadline.
    â€œThere’s something else,” Ekman added, and told Holm about the robbery.
    â€œThat’s incredible,” Holm exploded, incensed that his boss had been victimized. “In broad daylight, near the courthouse! It’s outrageous.”
    â€œI couldn’t agree with you more,” said Ekman with a wry smile. “They’ve got to be stopped before someone is hurt. People could easily be dragged if they hung on to their bag. I’d like you to find out whether there’s been an increase in bag snatching using this method, and what’s being done about it. I don’t remember it being mentioned in the daily incident reports.”
    â€œI’ll do it right away. I’m sorry you went through this,” Holm said.
    â€œEnar, for now, this is just between us.”
    â€œI understand, Chief. We’ll find them, have no doubt.”
    â€œThanks, Enar. I appreciate your treating this as confidential.”
    Looking at the clock, Ekman saw it was past his usual lunchtime. The strain of the robbery had made him forget he’d intended to have lunch before coming back to the office, but now he didn’t feel like going out again.
    I guess it’s time to go back to the cafeteria and see if the food has gotten any better, he thought. He hadn’t eaten there in months, preferring the superior food, available alcohol, and above all, quiet, of outside restaurants.
    The cafeteria was thinly occupied with uniformed officers. He nodded to one of them he had worked with recently, but chose a table in the corner overlooking the enclosed courtyard with its small stand of birch trees and some wooden benches. Going to the counter he ordered an open-faced shrimp sandwich and double espresso. He took a few bites of the sandwich, but the robbery had taken away his appetite and he pushed the plate aside, staring into the courtyard. He felt despondent. Perhaps that’s how crime victims always feel, he thought. It’s the powerlessness that’s humiliating and depressing. Shoving back his chair, he headed up to his office.
    Ekman found a message waiting for him. Malmquist had just phoned. Ekman