All language subtitles for The M FrSUB

THE MAN FROM MAJORCA

Bless you!
- Thanks.

Being sick in the middle of Christmas
preparations is really the last thing I need.

Are you here to pick up parcels,
or send parcels... Or what are you here for?

No, nobody is sending parcels.
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?

Olles 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... Damned, 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.

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!

Don't touch me!

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?

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 videos 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 actually dimmed down the lights
and lit up candles everywhere, for atmospere...

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 3 days.

Brillant, gentlemen, brillant.

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. The boxer.
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 Ingo Johansson?
- No, no, no...

Then why all this bragging 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, Olsson. I don't know how we could
cope without such bright witnesses like you.

Don't mention it.

It was nothing, really.

What a cool 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 absolutely 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 Öst 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 Stockholm 6 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 Täby.

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

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

Seems you didn't look at the right place? 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. Well,
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.

Hell, 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!
- Right. 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!

Changed your style, he? 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 Hälsingegatan on St Lucia day?

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?

Hey, 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.

22 minutes. New personal
record between Fridhemsplan and Hall.

Walk the last bit, it'll count as voluntary
cooperation; get a discount on the new sentence.

The money!
You heard what I said! The money!

Let's grab a hamburger, he?
- I don't eat at McDonald's.

Are you nuts? "I don't eat at McDonald's." We
must've eaten 10 tons since they're in Sweden.

That's true.
But it's over now.

What's suddenly wrong with them?
100 % beef, got 5 stars in Rĺd & Rön.

It's not about the meat, Jarnis.
- What the hell is it about then?

I think we shouldn't support these
multinational corporate monopolists.

Man, that's kid's stuff from 10 years ago.
It's 1983 now, Johan!

Let me put it this way:
These are hard times in Sweden.

We shouldn't support American burger companies.
What have they ever done for us Swedes? Tell me!

Fine, Johan, fine.

Hey...

It sure was Swedish.
But did it taste good? Fuck no!

It's cold.
We should have another one.

You should've been at the Olympics
in St. Moritz in 1952. Minus 30 degrees!

St. Moritz? 1952?

The 1952 Olympics were in Oslo.
- Never mind. - They were in Oslo!

If you've spent your life covering sports events
all over the world, naturally you get mixed up.

You sure mixed up something.

I have an appointment. I must go.

Wait a minute!
- It's about money.

What money?
- Västeras!

Would you like some more glögg?
- No, thanks. I... My shift starts soon.

It's best to stay sober,
you never know what happens.

Schhhhheventyfffive öre is the ppprice for
a ppretty cocookie with chchchocccolate...

Do you remember?

That's Jarnis. I gotta go.

Won't you invite your colleague for some glögg?
- No, we really must be going. I'm Sorry. Bye!

Bye, Konrad. Thanks for everything.
Merry Christmas.

Goodbye!
- Bye.

Did you get that? Nice!
- Yes, he made it at kindergarten.

You also got some socks?
- Yes, Nylon...

He is gone. Grandpa. Goodbye!

No, no; don't hang up!

Hello? Anders... Santa speaking.

No shoeprints. He must've swept up
the tracks before he got back in the car.

It all seemed so strange,
that's why I memorized the number.

To drive all the way out here... There's
been vandalism on the cemetary lately.

FUK 838 is not in the register.

Perhaps Mrs Wiström got the wrong number?
It's hard to distinguish between 3s and 8s.

No, no... I saw the car right under a light,
and I'm sure it was 838.

We have to go with 8s and 3s;
check all possible combinations.

It wasn't 838,
check for the other seven numbers.

Mrs Wiström,
did you notice anything else then?

No, nothing that I saw, really.
But I think, I know who it is. - Who?

The victim, I mean. I think his
name is Olsson. Erik or Eskil Olson.

I work at the emergency at Sabbatsberg hospital,
so I know all the bums from the subway station.

There is a FUK 833. A brown Volvo 142,
at the Esso car rental in Gärdet.

Johansson.
- Jarnebring.

Nice of you to come... Christmas Eve, and all.
- No big deal.

I just watched TV all night. They show nothing
but these damned educational programs and shit!

5 past 12: it's Christmas Day.

I take the opportunity to
wish you all a merry Christmas.

A brown Volvo 142? FUK 833?
Here it is.

We better wait for the police technicians,
they might still find something on the car.

Could anybody have driven this car,
although it wasn't rented?

I'll tell you something: this bloody car,
I can open and start it up with my thumb.

I'm finished now.
You can go in.

Hell, what a pigsty!
- Go check out the bookshelf instead.

This guy took tons of pictures.
- Anything interesting?

No, mostly holiday pictures. Damned,
you can see her nipples through the blouse!

It says something on the back.
"Pig Party, 1978, Mallĺkra."

It should be "Majorca".
Funny bastard, this Olsson!

Ok, I got the people who rented the car in the
last year and could've gotten copies of the keys.

I should also note the mileage, you got it?
- Yeah, it's here: 14385 km.

Jarnis! Check the meter mileage.
Come on!

14437. - 14... 437.
- Is that good or bad?

52 km difference. It's 20 km from
Skogskyrkogĺrden to Gärdet. Both ways: 40 km.

Plus...
- Plus 12 km of additional driving.

Well, this isn't an ordinary manslaughter. A
drunk driver won't bother to move the corpse.

We'll need more men when we want to
solve this, and I'm going to fix that now.

Try Johansson and Jarnebring.
- The vice guys? We need to go that far?

Haven't we got any of our own?
- No. Hamrén and Gunnarsson are away. Holidays.

Bah. Then I'd rather take Rundberg.

Hell, what a Christmas. Soft gifts only, brawn
from the supermarket... I might as well work.

What's this?
Is this our corpse?

Damned! This is Erik Harald Olsson,
the nutcase I questioned about Stockholm 6.

Stockholm 6? Olsson was at
the post office during the hold-up?

And you questioned him?
Where's the report on that, if I may ask?

Merry Christmas!
- Thank you...

Dahlgren, Olsson was at the post office during
the hold-up. Rundberg questioned him about it.

Really? Why haven't we been notified?
- Rundberg never filed a report. - Fucking Idiot!

Everything's okay with your hat, Mrs Forsberg.
- But you've had it for quite a while now...

You'll get it as soon as the technical division
is finished with it. Can we focus on this now?

It wasn't him, then?
_ no.

That's him!
- He stood behind you at the post office? - Yes.

Did you notice something special about him?

No, other than that he seemed to be drunk.
And he greeted the robber.

He greeted the robber?
Why haven't you told us before?

No one asked. Your colleague just asked how the
robber was dressed. Did I do something wrong?

You heard about the flop with the rental car?
It was one the Esso employees who 'borrowed' it.

Yeah, I heard it.
- Time for a break. To pull ourselves together.

Pimples all over the face, golden earring.
Fuck, that's him! Our foreigner!

Be careful with my watch!
It costs more than your ass, you pig!

Fucking Cops!

What the fuck?!?
Let me go, you pigs!

Fucking cunts! Let me go!

You cocksuckers...
You pig cunts! Let me go!!!

Let me go!

Police!
- That's why he's afraid, that pig.

No, man... Just a few tiny bags.
You don't make such a noise because of that!

What do you know about the hold-up
at Hälsingegatan on St Lucia day?

Damned, what are you? Hearing impaired?
- I don't know shit, stupid fuckface!

You better start talking, or you might fall out
of that door. Happened to better boys than you.

It was Rogge who asked me to...
Rogge asked me to look for your pal.

You got Stockholm 6 somewhere here?
- It's the one I'm working on right now.

Roger Jansson, you got him?
- Jansson? Jansson, Roger Percy...

Previous convictions, wasn't questioned.
Went to the school next to the post office.

That's him! - Who?
- The one at the locker, when I chased the guy.

I'll question him as soon as I got time.
- Too late. He's dead; run over by a car.

Jansson asked this Papalexis to find a person
with a connection to the hold-up at Stockholm 6.

Then, when Papal...

We picked up an interesting guy,
he's up at level 4. - I know.

How the hell... We just booked him!
- Intuition. Go on.

When Papalexis heard from
Jansson's fiancee that he got "hit by a car",

he got smart and stopped looking. That's
all we got from him, he won't say more.

He refuses to tell us who he was supposed
to look for, or if he ever found him.

There seems to be a high death rate
among the ones involved in Stockholm 6.

If Jansson was really run over purposely, it'd
be interesting to know who the driver was.

To my office,
as soon as you get information.

Yes, Jansson is definetely dead. Died in a
traffic accident on December 20. Hit by a car.

The prosecutor dismissed the case.
No manslaughter.

The investigator at VD4 wasn't in.
Guy I talked to couldn't remember the driver,

only that he was
an ordinary, middle-aged citizen.

They still exist! Well, we'll find out
soon... The file is on its way here by car.

That gives us some time for speculations.

What is the link between
a 22-year-old crook,

a 57-year-old alcoholic bum,
and an ordinary, decent, middle-aged citizen?

Maybe they've been to the same prison?
- Hardly. That mix of clients exists nowhere.

Besides, Olsson has a clean record. Never
been in jail, except for disorderly behaviour.

Perhaps a group package
holiday to Gran Canaria.

There's usually a strange
mix of people on those trips.

You might actually be right. When we
searched Olsson's place, we found photos...

from a "Pig Party" in Majorca.
- Pig! God damned! Pig!!

It was a pig who did that! "Pig", that's what
the criminals call us, comes from America. Pig!

Calm down.
- A colleague did it. It was Hedberg I saw at the school. Hedberg from SEC.

Do you remember when we met
Hedberg and Öst at the dressing room?

I was so confused when Hedberg passed
through the door. I couldn't understand why.

His backside! It's the same back that I chased
through the school corridors after the hold-up.

Can you recognize a man from his backside?
- The same! Exactly the same way to pass a door.

Jarnis. Do you remember when we
drove Sven-Roland Martinson to Hall?

He gave us all these hints
that a cop had done that job.

And Papalexis didn't care about us finding his
dope bags. He was afraid we'd beat him to death!

Urgent. Came from VD4 by car.

A punk rocker back then. Poor bastard. A
wanna-be blackmailer, ended up under a tire.

There's Olsson, clean and shaven.
But where's Hedberg?

Look guys, there he is!
The Minister of Justice's bodyguard.

So there was something
strange with your documents.

You noticed that the day when Rogge was killed?
- Yes.

But couldn't Rogge himself have
tampered with the papers? - No.

In the morning everything was in order,
but in the evening they were all mixed up.

Will you manage by yourself?
- This is so childish.

It's the only way to solve
differences between two partners.

Vindeln!

Vindeln!

Hello!
- Hello.

Do you know a guy named Olsson?
Erik Harald Olsson.

The sports reporter, who was murdered.
- Sure as hell I do. - You do.

How was he?

How he's doing? He was murdered.
- Yes, I know.

I think he's feeling better now than before.

That bastard fooled me.
- Really?

I had a half-pint of vodka that
we were going to split on Christmas Eve.

That really sucks!
- Yeah, you can say that. Damned.

We were going to have a nice
Christmas together. He fooled me.

I went to his place and rang the bell.
But no one answered.

Then... then this other guy came.
And I sat down on the stairs and waited.

That really sucks, fooling me like this.
That was my last money!

Another guy came and sat on the stairs?
- No, I sat on the stairs, waiting.

Then a guy came and fiddled with the door...
So I went and asked him: "Hey, kid..."

And then he turned around,
and I saw that it wasn't Olsson.

Can we go and write this down at our place?
- What? Are you a cop?

No, no... I have a half-pint over there.
- I'll buy you a whole bottle on the way, okay?

Can you drive us to Systembolaget?

The guy you saw...
Was he one of these?

Yeah, it was him.

This a really creepy.
Couldn't we just look at pictures?

But with the last inspector, it was enough to
just look in a little box with lights in it.

Yes, but as I tried to explain to you,
the courts are pretty strict nowadays.

The prosecutor could argue that you were
influenced by the selection of the photos.

So we have to do it this way.
Please look again.

No, it's not any of them.

I don't know if I can make it...
Who says that he's going to eat here today?

Of course, I can't promise that.
- Nobody eats at the same place all the time.

Hedberg is a man of habits.
- There he is! There. This is him!

Johan... You hungry?
- Say "kebab" and I'll kill you.

I thought you'd go for PLO-style food.
No, this is guaranteed all-Swedish...

Fried in fine Eve margerine from Konsum,
good enough for you?

So. How about that?
Even the crispbread is Swedish, from Rättvik.

Fuck. Look!

What?
- The number on the car, Skogskyrkogĺrden! The license plate that wasn't in the register!

Did you see if it was Hedberg?
- It must be him.

Driving around with a forged license plate...!
That lunatic oughta know that number is hot.

Over there!

Now I got him!

Fuck!

Move over.
Don't you see the car, damned!

Fuck, I'm so tired of you!
- Hey, we're alive, aren't we?

We're ten cars behind now.
- Here we go!

Come on, now!
Grab your hat, Johan.

We got two.

Where the fuck is that scumbag?
- There. Under the railway bridge!

What the hell? It's not him.
Who the fuck do you think you are? Bullitt?

I admit... I can explain everything...
- Yeah, later... You're under arrest.

Could you repeat what you just said?
- A witness saw your car on Christmas Eve...

at kyrkogĺrden. With a corpse in the back.
- Were there two of you? What's your pals name?

Is he telling the truth?
This is almost too good to be true.

He missed the date for
the regular vehicle test check.

And to avoid a fine, he alters
the last digit until he gets there?!

But what if it's true...
and he's got an alibi for Christmas Eve...

Why the fuck was
the car seen by the graveyard?

Someone stole it from the street, used it, then
brought it back to where he got it. Simple.

Only amateurs leave the cars in the ditch.

Hedberg is an ice-cold bastard,
you should know that by now.

You think Hedberg did that?
- Of course. Definetely.

I saw this photo in an old
copy of Expressen, and I thought...

Well, this is that bum who
came up to the guards outside...

and asked about a policeman
who was supposed to work in the building.

But in the directory there was
no one by the name he gave us.

Well, he got really mad about it,
and I threatened to "call the police".

But I just took him out on the street,
and wrote a memo about it... Instructions.

I thought it wasn't important,
so I didn't file a special report.

This was on monday, december 22nd?
- Yes. I flew to Gambia the next day. Holidays.

That's why I haven't heard about
this murder until yesterday.

Do you remember the name he was asking about?
- No. Something with "Hed". Hedfors, Hedkvist...

It's on the memo I wrote,
but I can't remember where it is.

Bullitt has an air-tight
alibi for Christmas Eve.

He was with his family all night,
they were having porridge.

But his car was there.
The casts of the tire marks match pefectly.

I don't think Hedberg was eating porridge that
night. He had other things to take care of.

70 to 1648. - 1648 here.
- Report to Dahlgren's office, immediately.

Alright, time to get going. Andersson, you'll
make a detailed list of everything we know.

I need it by tomorrow morning. We should inform
the prosecutor that we regard Hedberg as suspect.

We must get a search warrant
for his home. I will contact SEC...

to find out what Hedberg did on december 13th
and 24th. We'll meet here tomorrow at 13:00h.

So, can I continue?
- Yes, go ahead. I won't obstruct you.

What a hell of a story!
- First I'm going to contact SEC.

They're calling for me. I gotta go.

Yes, I think we can help you with that. Come
along this way, I'll get you the files...

Tuesday, the 13th...

Hedberg... Kjell-Göran Hedberg's call sheet.
All his shifts, here you go.

Hi, this is Berg.
I think we've got trouble.

6 minutes left. Do you think by now
the bastard gave up and confessed?

Let's go.
I can't wait another second.

I have inquired at SEC
about Hedbergs possible alibi.

We can forget the whole thing.
Hedberg isn't our man.

He actually has an alibi.
- That's impossible. You'll have to explain.

Yes, I was going to.

On Tuesday, december 13th,
Hedberg has an alibi for the whole day,

from 9 am to 5 pm.

The fact that SEC can't supply
him with an alibi for Christmas Eve,

when he was off duty,
seems neglectable under the circumstances.

But he could've worked on the 13th and still
have been at the hold-up at Stockholm 6.

He's got a witness,
if you are familiar with that term.

And according to that witness,
they haven't been at Stockholm 6.

If this witness happens to be his partner Öst,
I wouldn't give a damn about his testimony.

I'm afraid it's better than that.

You sound as if the king
himself testified for Hedberg.

Who is it? Well? Tell us!

I'm not allowed to tell you,
it is a matter of state security.

Is this all you're going to say?
- Yes. Unfortunately.

Yes, that's all.

Jarnebring! You forgot this.

No, keep it. I intend to donate it
to the art club. You're the cashier.

Don't you like it? What I mean is: Take care,
for Justitia's blindfold can easiliy slip down...

and shut up her mouth.
I call it: "Security of the State"!

What do we do now?
- We put a tail on that bastard.

Who? Hedberg? - Yep. If he's never had a tail
before, he's damn sure going to have one now!

Hey, here he comes.

Look what he's got with him.

He's killed the lights.
- Pretty short foreplay. 3 nights in a row, different chicks every time.

How the hell does he do it?
- I have no fucking idea.

Oh, this isn't nice...
- Not for us, anyway.

Tomorrow'll have to be the last day, Johan. The
colleagues start to wonder what we're doing.

They ain't exactly cheap, those Mercedes's.
- 100,000, at least.

Now he can afford to buy even more.
The next one will probably be a Maserati.

He's pulling over.
Palmgren's leather shop.

What is he buying?
- A dog leash. He hasn't got a fucking dog.

She wraps it up in a gift box. Must be
a present for someone. Here he comes!

Rosenbad. What does he want there? Bodyguarding
some secretary of state, evidently.

This really stinks.

Fuck-partys, dog leashes and state officials...
- He's got the present with him. What for?

He went up to the Minister of Justice's room.
But something was strange...

He never even knocked on the door, or waited
for the green light; simply walked right in.

I mean... a state minister...
You'd have to know him well to just do that.

See, he doesn't carry the dog leash.
- He gave it to the minister as a present.

When did bodyguards start
to give their clients presents?

Thanking for a favour?
An alibi, for example?

You think Hedberg got his alibi here?
- Why should the minister give Hedberg an alibi?

Maybe he's got dirty laundry himself. Something
so toxic that he's willing to cover a murderer.

What the hell could that be?

It's him, right?
That's Hedberg's alibi.

How did you figure that out?
- Unfortunately, we are prevented to tell:

With respect to "national security".

Hedberg was assigned as bodyguard for the
Minister of Justice on St Lucia day, right?

According to a telex from the German SEK, 3
terrorists had entered Sweden the night before.

Sit down, boys. He was picked up in Nacka at
08:30 h, to be driven to the ministry offices.

Where they stayed until 09:45. After that, a
meeting with party functionaries in the city.

Meetings lasted till 13:00 h,
then back to the ministry building.

There they had a late lunch, office work
until 15:00 h. Then back home to Nacka.

An arm's-length distance between
the minister and Hedberg, the whole day long.

The minister keeps a detailed diary, he's
absolutely certain with times and places.

I don't think that the Minister and Hedberg
are accomplices in the Stockholm 6 hold-up.

We don't think so either.
- No? So what do you think then?

We think the MJ must have something else to
hide, and therefore lies bout Hedbergs alibi.

Like what, for example?
- Just between us: We could think of something...

I know what you're going to say, Johansson.

This entire block seems to be Sweden's largest
gossip column when it comes to moral questions.

I'm definetely not going use that sort
of stuff as evidence in a murder case.

What are you going to do now?

We tail him. Just like we tailed Hedberg.
This alibi must be broken.

Misconduct. But that's not my problem.
I'm not your boss, and I'm glad about it.

So are we.
- Well. Then the pleasure is mutual.

You know what I think about
these solo dribblings in police work.

Overzealous cops are the worst thing I know.
The days of the 'Royal Mounted Police' are over.

So, that's how he lives.
- Yeah, there's some people who...

What is he watching?
- A lot of people sitting next to eachother. What a drag without sound.

It was sure funnier to tail Hedberg.
Got a little more action.

70 here.
- 1607, Jarnebring. You got a TV there?

Yes, why? - Can you turn it on for us?
- Which channel? - Go to channel 2, Hĺkan.

What the hell are you up to?
- Never mind. We just want to hear the sound.

Smart, right?
- Very nice, Jarnis.

Now he switched the channel.
'Tecknade pärlor'. Cartoons for adults.

Hey Hĺkan, switch to channel 1, quick!
- Make up your mind, damned. Ok, wait a sec.

What the fuck...? He switches back.
What an asshole...

Conclusion: Hedberg has no alibi for the hold-up.
We must find out what Dahlgren and his men know.

We must keep up with their investigation.
You will take the necessary measures.

How far can we go?
Can we use the Japanese equipment?

Lasse Hjelm is in Tokyo, getting it.
- Well, see. What are you waiting for?

But how are we going to deal with this issue?

Which issue?
- Hedberg's possible guilt.

You mean if he has really committed robbery and
murder? I haven't had the time to think it over.

That question has a
relatively low priority just now.

No... not again!
- What is it?

You want the sound? I can call Hĺkan.
- Fuck no. Doesn't he have any other interests?

Look here, now...

Here comes his wife.

Now we got some action.

Hey, they're coming up.

He turned the lights off.
- Is he going to bed, or what? Where did he go?

No, there he comes!
- And in a hurry, too.

Can you smell it?
Starts to smell like cunt.

3rd or 4th floor, I couldn't tell.
We must wait till he turns off the lights.

How do you that he will?
Do you turn off the lights?

There!

Godbye.
- Goodbye.

Any luck?
- Wanna know who that was? Eva Zetterberg.

Eva Zetterberg!
- Jarnis... Think. Think!

You mean, this is where Eva Zetterberg was
heading to on the morning of St Lucia day?

There goes Hedbergs alibi.
- Stockholm 6 is nearby, hold-up took 3 minutes.

Even if the MJ fucks like a rabbitt, he had the
time to rob the post office and be back in time.

What do we do now?
- Knock at the door.

Too late today. Tomorrow? - Nine o'clock?
- 08:30? - 08:00!

Johan, you got a bite?

Yes, it was on St Lucia day.

The Minister of Justice went up to see her.

I thought: "How can he meet with
such a woman on a day like that...

with all these
subordinates waiting outside?"

After all, he's the highest police official.
- Were there policemen here?

Yes, a lot of them. There were cars...
radio cars and others... It was that day.

I thought: Strange that such a fine man would
go up to that woman. I know what they're doing.

She lives on top of me. - Mrs Wahlberg...
- Yes? - Are you absolutely sure about all this?

I'm absolutely sure.
- You are absolutely sure that the minister was here the very same day...

when there were a lot of policemen outside?

Yes. Because later that day I heard that there
had been a robbery at the bank... post office.

And I thought it was rather strange that he
would go up there to have fun with that woman.

You can hear it from down here, when...
Anyway, it wasn't the first time, too!

Wouldn't you like just a small glass?
- A small one, then. Yes, yes...

I think we need one.
- Yes, thank you.

Why does the police want to know about this?

About the Minister of Justice.

While the MJ was fucking a luxurious
call girl, by the name of Eva Zetterberg...

inspector Hedberg,
from state security police, SEC,

went to the nearby post office
and borrowed 395000 Swedish crowns.

All necessary documents will be on
your desk by 09:00 h tomorrow morning...

including a photo of the sweet lovebirds.
With greetings from...

the Royal Mounted Police!

Wait, Dahlgren!
Don't turn it off yet.

P.S.: Dahlgren...

If it's misconduct to trace down murderers,
we will happily accept our reprimands. D.S.

Johan. Take the shrimpshells with you, so the
place won't smell like a brothel when I wake up.

Yes, yes.

The negative that you took along last night.

What the hell are you saying?
Didn't you take it with you?

You gonna get a bite?

Fuck it, Jarnis.
This was much my fault.

If I hadn't asked you to take
those damned shrimpshells with you...

Pull yourself together.
This can happen to the best.

To the worst also...

Don't get hung up on the negative;
you have a lot of other stuff to show.

You haven't been lazy, that's for sure. If
your boss doesn't complain, why should I...

Time for lunch now. You coming along?
Perhaps they serve shrimp-omlette!

No, chief inspector, this is
all nothing but a big bunch of lies.

I have never said these things. Who
says that I have? Never ever did I say that.

Cheers.
- Well, I think...

Cheers, chief inspector. Won't you
drink a glass? This is good portwine.

Yes...
- Yes. I should know. Cheers.

According to inspector Johansson,
you stated quite clearly before...

that you saw the person in question
here in this building on St Lucia day.

I have never said that!
I only said that I've seen him on TV...

and in magazines,
in the weekly pictorials...

Hänt I Veckan, Ĺret Runt... and what
they're all called. There I've seen him.

But I've never seen no Minister of Justice
on the stairs of this house!

What would he ever want here,
such a fine man?

She died. - How sad.
- Ran out on the street, got run over by a car.

Yes, you mourn over a dog
just as much as over a human.

What kind do you have?
- What kind?

Well, I mean... which race?
- I have no dog.

No, no...

Won't you answer the phone?
- No. We better come straight to the point,

whatever this is about. I presume that
you didn't come here to talk about dogs?

Before I start I want
to make something clear...

I completely agree with you:
Inspector Hedberg shouldn't be with us.

He should be locked up in a state prison,
along with his so-called alibi.

I have talked to Eva Zetterberg, and
also to our friend, the Minister of Justice.

I'll be damned!
Do you want an early retirement, or what?

She has no memory at all meeting him,
at least not on tuesday, december 13th.

She was sick in bed that day. With high fever.
And he has no memory of seeing her, either.

On the other hand, he still remembers that,
on tuesday morning between 09:45 and 13:00 h,

he was attending a meeting with Kjell-Göran
Hedberg and two high officials from his party.

And what do they say? You talked to them, right?
- Yes, I have. They also remember Hedberg there.

Are they lawyers?
- Yes. They're lawyers. Pretty good ones.

Then I also talked to all our witnesses against
Hedberg. The granny in the Zetterberg building.

Had it been about portwine labels, perhaps...
Well, and Mrs Forsberg...

is also getting unsure about the case.
Vindeln, however, is even more certain now.

So if we are going into court, it'll be
with Vindeln alone. But we better hurry...

before he drinks himself to death.
Do I need to continue?

No, it's not necessary.

This is really fucked up.
- Well, then. Let's get back to work.

Besides that... I agree with that last
statement of yours. This is really fucked up.

Here is that memo.
- Thanks.

Can they get to Hedberg?
- No. Unless you want me to help them.

Would he ever break down and confess,
if they frame him, for example?

No, never. According to someone I talked to,
he'll probably soon forget all about it.

These people have a some sort of special
mechanism for repressing unpleasant experiences.

Yes, you have it, too. He?

Erik Harald Olsson
seeking for Kjell Hedberg.

Hey, Johan. Did you notice one odd thing?
- What?

During all this time when we waited outside the
MJ's house in Nacka. Did you ever see a dog?

And Hedberg's present, the dog leash.
Damned, Johan. The MJ has no dog!

The present wasn't for him.
- But I saw it when Hedberg entered his office.

But not when he got out. All we know is, there
was no present when he got out on the street.

He must've given it to someone else, some girl
who wouldn't fall for the habitual two drinks...

Are you okay? Having doubts now, too?
- No.

I'm only saying that the connection
we saw between Hedberg and the MJ...

didn't exist. You don't give a dog
leash to someone to hasn't got a dog.

And the other thing, about not waiting for
the green light. He was simply in a hurry!

Are you finished? Good. Else you'll start to
claim that the MJ never saw Eva Zetterberg...

that night, when I was freezing my ass off on
the stairs. Or that I never took that photo...

which you managed
to throw away with the shrimpshells...

Sorry.
- No problem.

Fuck, Johan... It's okay.

The damned shrimpshells are on me.

I've gotten over them now.

But it's a shame that you start thinking
with your ass when you're under pressure.

It's not like you.

A compliment, that last thing.
A fine fucking compliment.

321 million? Our financial situation
isn't all that good, you must understand.

There are a lot of people on that board.
I'm telling you. 321 million to SEC...

Yes, 321 million should be okay.
I think we can handle that.

There was one thing here...

You have an unspecific entry here:
"special service training". 2,650,000.

We've got an offer from the Germans,
to send down 20 trainees to their GSG 9.

A three-month special in-service training.
- GSG 9?

Isn't that their terrorist-commando? You
must realize that this is pretty delicate.

It's necessary. Nothing will leak through.
The men we're sending are perfectly reliable.

The group leader is a man
by the name of Hedberg.

I think you know him.

I have the greatest confidence in Hedberg.

Well, I guess we'll have to save
on children's daycare centers...

Yes. What the hell are your options?