The Man from Majorca (Mannen från Mallorca)

THE MAN FROM MAJORCA

-Bless you! -Thanks.

Being sick during Christmas is the last thing I need.

Are you here to pick up parcels, or send parcels...

Or what are you here for?

No... Nobody wants to talk to anyone.

It's typical for Swedish people. You talk to them, but they say nothing back.

Johan... You know, the gingerbread, it's home-made this year.

Ah, really?

-Olle's wife. He should bring 200. -Yeah, he can afford it.

Hell, to sit here... Two grown-up men.

Watching the entrance to this whorehouse

when we could be cozy inside with a cup of...

Look, Jarnis!

-Big game in the bush. It's her, right? -Sure as hell. Eva Zetterberg.

Pretty, too.

You wouldn't know she is a hooker...

Here she goes. Maybe a house-call.

TUESDAY

What in the name of...?

389.30. What are you doing, man?

Help...

Don't do anything rash!

Don't be rash, I said! Think about what you're doing!

My God, don't do anything that you'll regret!

Just think about what you're doing!

Don't do anything rash that you'll regret for the rest of your life!

A hold-up, post office Stockholm 6.

-We're on our way. -Fuck the hookers.

Johan, this time we'll be the first ones on the scene.

-The Lucia procession! -Yes, I hear...

Johan, damn it, they've moved already!

Stop! Police!

Fucking shit!

Where did he go?

-Which way? -Go, who? What are you talking about?

VIOLENCE UNIT M DAHLGREN, LIEUTENANT

Here's a hat, from the technical department.

I can take it.

Where was I?

We must concentrate on... Oh, this was the hat he was wearing.

We must concentrate on the eye-witnesses.

The photographs are a joke, as usual.

No fingerprints. Driving gloves. However, there's a footprint.

He stepped on a piece of paper, a blank form. Shoe size 41. That's it.

Looks like today's special up in the cafeteria.

Those morons dimmed down the lights and lit up candles everywhere, for atmosphere.

Damned fools.

They could've just as well sent out invitations to every criminal in town.

I'm struck by the robber's coolness. Got me thinking about Lars-Peter Forsman.

Is Forsman on leave today?

We checked him. He's in the can.

Forsman couldn't pull off a hold-up like this.

Compared to that guy, Forsman is an amateur.

He used the school for his getaway. That accounts for some local knowledge.

Do a run-down on teachers and students. See if anyone has a criminal record.

And our colleagues in the "ape-house" down the yard...

One changed his name, and the other who kept his... What are their names again?

Jarnebring and Johansson, from vice, central investigation.

Talk to them. They were the first on the scene. And they're cops, after all.

Maybe they have figured out something, now that they've had some time to think.

Well. Is there anything else to add?

Yes, one thing. One of the cashiers had a bad cold. Maybe the robber was infected.

Excellent. Well, then we know what to do.

We're looking for a young man, shoe size 41,

who looks like today's lunch, and will start to sneeze in about three days.

Brilliant, gentlemen, brilliant.

Shit! They didn't even call us to the meeting. Damn Dahlgren.

We're on the wrong squad, Johan, I tell you all the time.

They think they're something special up there. First squad...

Like we weren't house-trained.

No need to show your press card. I know you belong to the fourth estate.

This is about what you saw at the post office.

Could you see the robber's face?

-Well... He had a beard. -A beard? Wait a minute...

You didn't say before that he had a beard.

Yes, a beard... No, he had sideburns. An Italian, probably.

Italian? But you said before that he was blond.

Yes. Ingemar Johansson. You know, who fought against Machen.

Hell, sure I know Ingo Johansson. So, what, he looked like him?

That's right. But, no... Machen. He was much heavier.

-He was much heavier, but the other guy... -Wait a minute.

You say that...

No, wait. Ingemar Johansson, what's he got to do with all this?

Did the robber look like Ingemar Johansson?

-No, no, no... -Why all this talk about Johansson?

This guy... He was heavy-built, very sturdy.

But Ingemar Johansson was even sturdier and stronger.

You know, back when Ingemar beat up Eddie Machen? I saw that fight.

Yes... But the robber...

Now, did he look like Johansson or like Machen?

No, he looked like the other guy.

You mean, he looked more like Eddie Machen?

Yes, more like Eddie Machen, but coloured.

-Who? -Machen.

Yes, he's coloured. But the robber was not?

Thanks. I don't know how we could cope without such bright witnesses like you.

Don't mention it.

It was nothing, really.

What an ice-cold bastard.

-Who? -The robber.

Stop dwelling on this bullshit. Forget about that damn hold-up.

395,000 is a lot of dough, but this wasn't exactly The Great Train Robbery.

It's not about the money. The guy stayed so damned cool.

He made no mistakes. Surveillance up to the roof in that post office,

but he walks right in carrying a fucking parcel!

What the hell have we got here? Look.

Pulls the cashiers away from the alarm, pulls his turtleneck up,

the ladies hat down, and breaks the door with a karate-slug.

The St Lucia procession - a piece of cake.

If he had been an amateur, there would have been a massacre.

Incredible, that man.

Cheers to the new idol - the John Travolta of robbers.

What did I tell you?

Wanna know who it is? Hedberg and Ost from SEC.

The Security Service checking whorehouses? Damned, it is them!

Think they're customers?

I'd believe all sort of shit about Hedberg, but he'd never pay for a fuck.

The Police's own ladies man.

Now they're leaving.

-We should take a note, in any case. -You do that, Jarnis.

Use your sharpest pencil.

Is it exciting?

Could you please stop doing that? Thanks.

Each time I come home you're browsing that phone directory.

It'll be falling apart soon.

So what? I was going to call a pal. Is that illegal?

That's what I'm afraid of. you hooking up again with your old gang, your old "pals".

What is it, Rogge? You haven't been yourself since...

It's only a class-mate, you understand?

Just a perfectly ordinary class-mate. Okay?

It's got nothing to do with my old life. Just an ordinary buddy. Okay?

Hey, boys!

Now, Andersson, you really dared to come down to the "ape-house"?

Just wondered if you had come up with something new about the hold-up?

How the hell could we? We're at the cunt squad now, in case you didn't know.

Seems to be a Type 2 robbery.

Formerly unknown offender. Even fingerprints wouldn't help us.

The man's in no register, this could be pretty difficult.

-What's up with Johansson? -Why?

He looks like seven days of rainy weather.

He's just tired. Tired of the whole shit.

Look around, Andersson: "The mills of justice"...

I also think he hasn't gotten over his divorce yet. It's not exactly fun...

to heat some meatballs by yourself and set the table for one.

Doesn't his ex-wife work here in the house?

She's a secretary at the aliens division.

Fell in love with a colleague. Law school graduate, future police commissioner.

They took the kids and moved to Taby.

The new guy just bought a villa there last month. How about that?

Johan complied with everything. Even used the same lawyer.

A pal of her wife's new boyfriend.

He just stood on the side and watched what happened.

End of biography.

I'll be damned!

Ost and Hedberg from the Security Service, no fake beards!

-Have you had your staff party yet? -Staff party? What staff party?

I thought you were looking for a suitable venue.

We saw you outside a quite disreputable address.

A real haunt, like us true cops say.

We thought perhaps SEC was planning a staff party,

and you were on the committee.

I don't know what you're talking about. We didn't see you and we're happy about that.

Hell, how could you. We're investigators. "See but not be seen" is our motto.

Have the inmates really permission to be here in the police dressing room?

Some of them have. The filthiest are granted exemption.

What? Who do they think they are?

What the matter with you? -Nothing.

-You must be insane. -The VW wouldn't start up anymore.

So I leased this one for the same price.

It speeds up to 230 km/h... maybe even 260.

-But we have no use for that in the city! -But the feeling, Johan, the feeling.

To have more under the hood than you need.

Come on. Let's move before the colleagues see us.

Look, over there. Isn't that Sven-Roland Martinson?

-Sure as hell he is. -Isn't he wanted?

Didn't return to Hall prison after a leave.

Hey, Svenne! Hop in the warmth!

What happened, Svenne?

Thought you were into banking, with a stocking over your head.

Yeah, so what?

-Where the fuck are you going? -I thought we'd drive him to Hall.

Svenne... I could use your help with something.

Who robbed the post office on Dalagatan on St Lucia day? I mean Halsingegatan.

You're not the first one to ask that, I can tell you that.

-One of the young guys asked around. -About who was in the hold-up?

Well, it wasn't one of us, that's for sure.

You know... Lars-Peter, who else?

Nicke and Marius - all doing time in Kumla.

Bogdan, Lasse and Bo are in Hall with me.

Nah, you'll have to look elsewhere for your guy.

-Svenne... -No, you'll have to think some more.

Svenne... The guy who asked around. Do you remember what he looked like?

I don't socialize with small-time punks.

I've got to think about my reputation, you know.

Come on. Lighten up. Maybe we'll forget what we saw.

What do you mean, "saw"? I didn't see anything.

He looked like one of those who live on Plattan.

Immigrant, with a golden ring in his ear, face full of pimples.

Do you really believe that I'd socialize with pimply immigrants who wear earrings.