Three Seconds

number
721018-0010
Number of hits
75
    They skimmed down quickly, got the clear picture that this person was extremely dangerous
observed fifteen minutes before the murder in Östling in the company of the suspect, Markovi ć
and familiar with weapons
observed near the property that was raided in connection with suspected arms dealing
and had previously threatened and fired at and wounded policemen and was likely to be armed.
    __________
‘Command, this is car 9027. Over.’
‘This is command. Over.’
‘We require back-up for immediate arrest.’
    __________
    He heard the sirens closing in between the city buildings and guessed that the sound and blue flashing lights would be turned off somewhere on Fleminggatan.
     
    Two dark blue police vans stopped outside fifteen seconds later.
    He was prepared.
    __________
‘This is car 9027. Over.’
‘Describe the suspect.’
‘Piet Hoffmann. Very violent on previous arrests.’
‘Last observation?’
‘The entrance of Biljardpalatset. Sankt Eriksgatan 52.’
‘Appearance?’
‘Grey hooded top. Jeans. Fair hair. Unshaven. About one metre eighty tall.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Likely to be armed.’
    __________
    He didn’t try to run away.
     
    When the doors
police
were flung open at both ends of the deserted pool hall and several uniformed police ran in with
on the floor
drawn guns, Piet Hoffmann turned calmly round from the pool table, careful to keep both hands visible all the time. He
fucking well get down on the floor
didn’t lie down voluntarily but fell to the ground after two powerful strikes to his head and one more when bleeding he
fucking pigs
held his middle finger up in the air and then he couldn’t remember much more than a pair of handcuffs locking round his wrists, a kick in the ribs and the acute pain in his neck when it all stopped.

Erik Wilson had been sitting in the car opposite the entrance to the Kronoberg garage when two dark blue police vans had passed and sped off in the direction of Sankt Eriksgatan. He had waited until they turned off their sirens and then he had driven up to the barrier by the attendant’s office, shown his ID and rolled slowly towards the automatic door to the Police Authority’s garage under Kronobergsparken. He had parked in a steel cage in front of the lift up to the remand prison and from the driver’s seat observed the steady stream of police vehicles going in or out.
     
    He had been waiting for half an hour when he rolled down both his windows so he could hear better, his whole body tense. He had tried to shake off the discomfort and dread but hadn’t been particularly successful. He breathed in the damp petrol-perfumed air and listened to a car stopping on the other side of the garage and someone getting out, then another, followed by sleepy footsteps in the opposite direction.
    Then he saw the large bay doors being pulled to one side.
    It had taken thirty-five minutes for eight specially trained policemen to locate and arrest one of the country’s most documented and dangerous people.
    The dark blue van came in and he watched it approach the final couple of hundred metres before driving into the steel cage and parking about a car’s length away.
    If anything happens, abort your mission and ask for voluntary isolation. To survive
.
    Two uniformed colleagues got out first. Then a man with a swollen face, grey hooded top, jeans and handcuffs.
    The police, who had been instructed to arrest a wanted and presumably armed dangerous criminal, had confronted him in the only way they knew how.
    With violence.
    ‘Hey, I don’t like fucking poofter police touching me.’
    Erik Wilson saw Piet Hoffmann suddenly turn towards thepoliceman standing nearest to him and spit in his face. The uniformed officer didn’t say anything, show anything and Piet spat again. A quick glance at his colleagues, who just happened to look away, then the policeman stepped forwards and kneed Piet Hoffmann in the balls.
    Only a criminal
.
    He groaned in pain, and again after a kick to the stomach, then got up and with his hands locked behind his back was being escorted by four uniformed policemen to the lift and the remand prison, when Erik Wilson heard him say loudly to the face he had just spat at:
    ‘Watch it, you prick. I’ll get you. Sooner or later, we’ll meet again. Sooner or later I’ll put two bullets in you just like I did with that prick in Söderhamn.’
    Only a criminal can play a criminal.

PART