Subtitles: Ingrid Eng www.undertext.com
I thought you might ring, Mr. Nyman.
Here are some painkillers to ease you along.
- Should I close the window? - No, I'd like some fresh air.
- But I do need to go to the toilet. - That's good.
The doctor would like you to be up and about as much as possible.
Oh... Do those work better than your regular creams?
I hope so...
Are you playing this to bug your poor old dad?
No...
It's good music... too.
When you were little, you were proud that your dad was a policeman.
You bragged about it...
I grew up.
And the police force has changed too.
- You working tomorrow? - Yes.
- With Kollberg? - No such luck.
It's Rönn, so I'm less than thrilled.
Sit down...
- So you went at him with a knife... - To mark the guy.
He sold bad dope, bad dope that killed my buddies.
17 of my friends are dead, get it?
Don't you get it, cop?
- Let's cut the crap... - Seventeen people.
I don't give a damn. I've been on duty since 8 AM yesterday.
I've spent the whole time looking for you.
There's only one thing left.
- What's that? - I know there were two of you.
Who the hell told you there were two of us?
I don't give a damn what you say...
- Thanks. - Let's go.
- Goodnight... - Bye.
Homicide, Johansson speaking...
Hang on, Rönn.
I think this is right up your alley.
We'll check it out. Goodbye.
There's been a murder over at Sabbatsberg hospital.
Some unis will join you over by the main entrance.
Where the hell are my...?
- What's your name? - Andersson.
- When did you get here? - 2:26 AM. Nine minutes ago.
We were in the vicinity of Odenplan.
He's a rookie, it's his first murder.
- Know who the victim is? - Yeah, it's Lieutenant Nyman.
But you can't really tell.
Sorry, but I can't do that right now. I'm busy. Bye.
- Beck. - Rönn here. I'm at Sabbatsberg.
Get over here. There's a unit at the main entrance.
- I'm sorry... - It happens to the best of us.
- Is it always like this? - I've been a cop for 20 years.
And I've never seen anything like this before.
Looks like it was a quick strike.
See why I called you?
- Not because... - Not because of what?
Not because Nyman was a lieutenant, but because of the circumstances.
The man was slaughtered, his killer must be a maniac.
Sure looks like it.
Rönn...
Looks like it would fit a Mauser carbine.
Think they can lift some prints?
The hilt is grooved.
I've got to contact Nyman's family.
Figure we can wake his wife up at this hour?
Can't see you have a choice...
Will you come with me?
Parked in a non-parking zone halfway up the curb...
He's lucky we're not traffic cops.
Hey...
- Isn't that him, the little guy? - Right, that must be Nyman's boy.
I'll just go get my mother.
My name is Beck, I called you earlier.
I'm Einar Rönn.
Please have a seat...
Well, then...
Mrs Nyman, if you happen to have any sedatives on hand,
I advise you to take some.
Dad has...
There's a bottle of sedatives in the bathroom, should I go get it?
Now would you please tell me why you're here?
Stig's dead and...
And none of us can change that.
Why wasn't I allowed to see him?
You sounded very odd over the phone.
Your husband's death wasn't caused by his illness.
Someone stole into his room and killed him.
I don't understand...
- Who did it? - We don't know. He was found dead.
Someone came in through the window and killed him.
With a bayonet. He was caught unawares.
It appears to be a surprise attack.
- But why? - We really don't know.
We hoped you could help us out, Mrs Nyman.
Can you think of anyone at all?
- Have there been any threats? - No...
- Did anyone hate your husband? - Who... Who would hate him?
Your husband was a police officer.
Making enemies goes with the territory.
This doesn't make sense...
- Could I come in? - No.
- How about a comment? - Later.
Stay put...
- Hi, how's it going? - We've talked to the patients.
But no one's heard or seen a thing.
These old buildings have thick walls, you know.
- Did you know Nyman? - Not personally...
But talk to the guys at the Klara precinct.
That's where he was stationed when he fell ill.
Hello, is Sahlin in?
Nasty business, I just heard it on the radio.
- Nothing in the papers yet? - Not yet.
Hello, did you just leave the crime scene? Nasty business...
- Inge? - Yes.
- You knew Nyman, right? - Wake up.
- What the hell are you doing? - Well...
He kind of... It's hard to say...
You must have talked now and then.
You couldn't get close to the guy.
Try.
- The younger men were afraid of him. - Pelle?
For Christ's sake, I just drifted off...
- This way. - Fucking pig! I'm innocent.
What time is it?
- What time is it? - What?
- What time is it? - 4:55.
I've been here since 10:30, they won't let me go.
I was in a demonstration. They can't detain me for more than six hours.
Where's the report on this guy?
- Sign for your effects. - I'm not signing anything.
You didn't give me a receipt, so I'm not signing anything.
It's customary...
Okay, I'll sign it myself.
This is an open and shut case.
I've spent six hours here without being charged...
- Had he received any threats? - Nyman was tight-lipped.
- You could at least talk to me. - He wouldn't have told us.
You don't like my politics. I have no illusions about the police.
But I thought we would be able to communicate.
Did you take the paper? Where is it?
Sorry... I put it over there, on the table.
Upset? Everybody's being evasive.
Mommy?
- Oh, no... - Mommy.
What have you done? Let Mommy sleep, we'll go clean you up.
Here we go...
Ball!
Johan... Hi there, Johan.
Where'd it go?
His diaper leaked, there's crap all over the duvet.
- Am I running late? - No, come lie down a little...
Lucky...
- You look exhausted. - I am.
What's up?
Homicide Division Lieutenant Beck
What's happened?
Here's Rönn's report.
"Saturday, March 27th..."
So what do you think?
That Rönn writes godawful reports.
It sounds pretty grisly.
What did it look like?
Worse than you could possibly imagine.
We'd better catch this guy, and be damn quick about it too.
Right.
- What do we have? - Not much. Footprints.
Maybe some prints. No one has seen or heard a thing.
- This could take time... - Negative on the prints so far.
- Forget about prints... - I made a cast, though.
Of a boot or shoe with thick soles.
Right now we need to catch the perpetrator.
We need to figure out the motive.
Revenge? Right, and if it's revenge...
There might be more killings.
What's your analysis so far?
Have you... Have you asked...?
Have you asked yourselves who Nyman was?
- Who he was? - That's right. Who was he?
- Or rather, what was he? - A police officer.
Not a very conclusive answer. What was he?
Come on, Martin!
A police lieutenant.
I have to go make a phone call.
- What was he? - I didn't really know the man.
Don't be evasive, describe the man.
- He was a bad cop. - No, he was a fucking lousy cop.
We've got a new suspect in the Ljunggren case. Come have a look.
He was a blot on the force.
I'm ashamed to have worked at the same precinct,
and at the same time, too.
But his reputation was never tarnished.
You know why?
Everyone knows it's pointless to confront the police.
You can't win against a regular officer, let alone a lieutenant.
- You're exaggerating. - Not really.
It's second nature for cops to stick together.
- We're bogged down by team spirit. - A unified front is important.
- What's that got to do with it? - Everything.
Who do you think did it? Who eliminated Nyman?
Someone he had given a hard time. Someone who wanted to get even.
You mean it's a person from Nyman's past?
Only his name has probably been filed in one of our wastebaskets...
All in the name of team spirit... Want to grab a cup of coffee?
I'll stick to tea instead.
- Did you know Nyman? - Yes, indeed.
Did you serve under him?
- When was that? - "The vile man from Säffle".
"The vile man from Säffle", that's what we called him.
- In the army. Nyman taught me a lot. - Like what, for instance?
Like how to slice a pig's cock off without it squealing.
How to gouge its eyes out, cut off its limbs, skin it,
and slit its belly without it screaming.
Want to know how its done?
You start out by cutting its tongue out.
Yes, indeed... I learned a great deal from Stig Nyman.
Like what to do when you're shut in a closet with a wild cat.
You weren't supposed to kill the cat, they were "recycled".
- Know what you do? - No...
You pin it to the wall with a knife, through the skin.
- You were a paratrooper, right? - Stig Nyman was my instructor.
Even if this cat business might have been justified in some way,
it wasn't something you ought to take pride in doing.
- But Nyman did. - You bet!
- And he continued in this vein? - No, that's going too far.
But I do know that he's abused both his subordinates and our clients.
I've heard a few things over the years.
Then wouldn't he have been reported several times?
You know where those complaints are filed, in the wastebasket.
- What about a higher authority? - Aren't you naive...
A guy like Nyman always had officers that got his back.
They'd swear that he hadn't done anything wrong.
No outside forces can get to a police lieutenant.
That's bullshit. The government wouldn't throw out reports like that.
- They'd still be on record. - Now that was a bright idea.
I just remembered Hult, Nyman's henchman.
If he's still on the force he must be a sergeant by now.
You should talk to the guy.
- You left, what do we do now? - We've got loads to do.
Like check the archives of the Parliamentary Ombudsman.
- Mrs Hall is in charge on Saturdays. - You'll have to deal with that.
I need some facts.
- Is that all right with you? - Sure...
He's afraid of that old bat.
Why did they call him that? "The vile man from Säffle".
Well, he came from Säffle and he was vile.
One of the vilest people I've ever met.
We're the next shift.
You two guard the door and the rest of us will go inside.
- Hello. - Hello.
- Come on in. - Thanks.
I don't think I've ever owned an ashtray.
When you're not a smoker, well...
- Isn't this your day off? - I usually wear my uniform.
- So, why are you here? - Stig Nyman's dead.
I see...
- You knew that already? - No, but it was in the cards.
His body let him down.
- Did you know Stig? - Not very well.
- About as well as I know you. - Not very well at all.
You and I have only met a few times.
- You knew Nyman well, though. - We worked together for years.
- What do you think of him? - He was a very good man.
There were many complaints about Nyman.
- That's news to me. - I know you knew about them.
A pack of lies.
- Some say you're a bad cop too. - Maybe they do.
My record is squeaky clean.
And anyone who tries to smear Stig Nyman in my presence...
Well, then I'd...
I'd shut that person up. I have my ways of doing it.
I know everything about this job.
- Stig Nyman taught you the ropes? - Sure, he taught me a lot.
Like how to commit perjury? How to copy each others reports,
even if every single word is a lie. How to beat up the prisoners.
Where to go to work someone over before bringing him in.
- Is that what he taught you? - I've never heard of those things.
So you never used a saber to disperse a strike?
When Nyman was in command?
- Never knocked down schoolchildren? - It never happened.
Nyman was supposedly an expert at maintaining order.
- He was the best. - That's right.
In a proposal regarding police conduct during demonstrations,
he suggested that the motorcycle division should ram the crowds.
- I know nothing about that. - The method was deemed too risky.
The officers might get hurt.
Right, I have something else to tell you.
I have something to say, too.
It's been lonely here since Maja died.
So I look out the window a lot.
Not that there's much to see...
I do a lot of thinking.
Know what I think about?
I think about my 30 years on the force.
I think about the times people have puked all over me.
How many times they've spit at me or cried.
Or called me a pig or a murderer.
I think of all the hanging victims I've cut down.
I've had to handle decomposing bodies.
Maggots would fall out of my cuffs when I sat down to dinner.
I've changed diapers when the kids' moms were dead drunk.
I've worked like a dog all my life to preserve law and order.
So decent people can lead peaceful lives.
But things have gone downhill. More violence, more bloodshed...
More and more people criticize the force.
But thanks to your fellow officers, you hang in there.
If there had been more people like Stig Nyman around,
society would look different.
So anyone wanting to whine about the force will have to go elsewhere.
Now it's my turn.
Stig Nyman's illness wasn't what killed him,
someone sneaked into his room and murdered him.
We suspect that the killer was bent on revenge and plans to strike again.
I came here to ask you a specific question.
- Who hated Nyman that badly? - No one...
I've got to go. Go to work.
J. Johansson claims to have been beaten by Stig Nyman in jail.
However, no legal action appears lo be called for.
This is all we have for Lieutenant Nyman during that period.
Will that be all, or should we go further back in time?
No, this will be fine.
Hi, Beck here. Has Rönn come back to the office yet?
Oh, he hasn't... Well, I'll go home and rest a while. Goodbye.
Nasty business, that officer getting killed. I just heard it on the radio.
Could we talk about something else?
- You look perky. - I went to the baths. What's up?
20 complaints during the past few years.
I bet I'd still be there if I went back even further.
The baths?
A sauna?
And maybe even a massage?
I won't lie to you, I had a massage.
Massage, huh...
You left...
You look a little perkier yourself.
I guess both you and I could use some sleep,
but I figured we might get a breakthrough if we keep at it.
- It's worth a try, isn't it? - Right...
Why don't we check out ten names each?
And go home after that.
Official Crime Scene
Oh, when did he die?
In 1972? Oh...
Thank you very much.
Mrs Nyman, is it correct that only you, your son,
and your husband's two brothers knew which room he was in?
That's correct. My husband didn't want people to know he was ill.
Oh, another officer knew about it as well, I have his name here.
Palmon Harald Hult.
- Why is that? - Mr Hult called last night.
He was distressed to hear that Stig was ill.
- And you gave him the address. - He wanted to send flowers.
- Thank you. - I've checked my list.
Two are dead, and I can't locate the guy named Eriksson.
Right...
- Is Hult in? - No, he isn't.
- Anyone seen him today? - No.
Are you sure? Could you please ask around?
- Ask who? - You can't be that understaffed!
- Is there only one officer on duty? - No, hang on...
- Anybody seen Hult around? - Who's asking?
That hot shot over at Homicide, Beck.
- Hult went somewhere an hour ago. - He went somewhere an hour ago.
- Where'd he go? - No one knows.
Hult called Nyman's wife last night. She told him which hospital it was.
Really?
- I wonder why he called? - Maybe he wanted to send flowers.
Not many people knew that Nyman had been admitted to the hospital.
That must be why Hult called.
It's an odd coincidence.
When I went to see Hult,
why didn't he mention that he'd been in touch with Mrs Nyman?
Why would he call at night?
At this time of the year, any time after 5:30 PM is night.
Like I was saying, I couldn't get hold of Eriksson.
Åke Eriksson.
The police officer who always complained about everything.
- The Nyman residence. - Sorry to bother you, it's me again.
That's all right, Lieutenant Beck.
You mentioned that sergeant Hult called last night.
- May I ask what time that was? - Fairly late.
- Could you narrow that down please? - We were watching.
According to Stefan, "Baretta" had just started. The TV show...
You told Hult which ward and room your husband was in.
Hult is dependable, why do you ask?
It's merely a routine question. Thank you very much.
Did you watch TV last night? That's right, you were on duty...
Could you find out what time "Baretta" was broadcast?
- 9:25 PM. - That means Hult called around 9:30.
Kind of late, it wasn't a duty call.
Maybe it was.
He didn't say much.
But he did find out where Nyman was.
He wanted to send flowers.
Do you think Hult stabbed Nyman?
I would like to discuss that call with him, though.
Call him over the radio.
Call Sergeant Hult on the radio.
Tell him to contact Homicide immediately.
There's something I'd like to say.
Let's say I called your house and asked your wife about you.
I would never introduce myself as Einar Valentino Rfinn.
- As what? - That's my name.
Valentino, like the movie star.
It was Mother's idea...
What do mean?
That it's strange that Hult calls Nyman's wife
and introduces himself as "Palmon Harold Hult".
- How do you know his name? - You wrote it down on your pad.
- In addition to that... - What?
It's also listed in the complaint Åke Eriksson lodged.
Good, Einar. Great...
I guess we'll have to take a closer look at Eriksson.
- I don't remember the details. - Melander would.
He remembers everything. I'll give him a call.
Funny, how both you and I are trying to get hold of a cop.
It might turn out to be the same guy.
The death toll is estimated at 500.
In Stockholm, the police have no leads regarding the brutal murder
of police lieutenant Stig Nyman.
A press conference will be held later today. Now for sports...
- I'm sorry to disturb you again. - You called fifteen minutes ago...
I apologize, I realize this must be painful.
I'm getting used to it. How can I help you this time?
- It's about that telephone call. - From Sergeant Hult?
- Did you recognize his voice? - No, I don't know the man.
- That's why I wrote down the name. - So it could have been someone else?
Wouldn't it be simpler if you talked to Sergeant Hult?
- Policemen make enemies. - Yes, you told me that.
The second time we talked. Are you aware of the fact
that we've talked five times during the past 12 hours?
I'm sorry, maybe I'd better get to the point.
Some people felt your husband abused his position.
- Are you joking? - No.
- He had been reported many times. - What were the charges?
Brutality.
- Was that it? I'm rather busy... - No, that's it. Thank you.
Goodbye.
Christ...
He was a mean bastard.
For once, I agree with you.
That bayonet interests me. This guy knew his stuff.
He was handy with a weapon. So who are we looking for?
People in the armed forces.
Butchers know their stuff.
So do policemen.
That's going a bit too far, isn't it?
Are you working on this case?
- What about you? - It looks like it.
Hopefully our paths won't cross too often.
Hopefully...
Could you please go and get him?
- What kind of service did Hult do? - He was a cavalryman.
- What about Eriksson? - He was an artilleryman.
Are you thinking of the bayonet? I figured as much.
- What does that mean? - You can buy them for peanuts.
Just go to an Army surplus store.
...and his teeth were knocked out.
Probably when the perpetrator silenced the victim.
The victim was subjected to lacerations of the abdominal region,
and the throat.
Was this done in a rational or frenzied manner?
I'd say it was a combination of rage and cool calculation.
That's what frightens us.
Lasse, could you climb in through the window?
Thanks...
This might be where Stig Nyman enters the picture...
...along with Harald Hult. There was an incident at their precinct.
Marja Eriksson died in the drunk tank on the night of June 26, 1965.
The events were as follows:
On June 26th, Marja Eriksson and her daughter went to Vaxholm
to leave her daughter with a friend while she did some work.
In the afternoon, Marja went back downtown.
Marja Eriksson was a diabetic, and required insulin injections.
This she did regularly, never compromising her health.
But on this particular day, she forgot to bring her syringe.
Not long after 7 PM, Marja Eriksson was found
by two of Nyman's officers, sitting on a bench in a dazed state.
Her poor Swedish might have made things worse.
The officers were convinced that she was either stoned or drunk.
So they took her to the station.
According to their first statement, Nyman told them to lock her up.
Later, Nyman denied ever seeing the woman.
And the boys changed their statements accordingly.
The guard on duty claimed
that the junior officers made the decision to lock her up.
They blamed each other.
And it hadn't been possible to transfer the prisoner.
By the time the guard on night duty checked on her, she was dead.
Diabetics usually carry some kind of emergency ID.
That's right, and Marja Eriksson had a card in her purse.
Only no one searched her.
There were no female officers on hand.
She would have been searched if she'd been transported to Krim.
That is, if she had lived to reach our department.
- Go on... - Nyman made a statement.
Claiming never to have set eyes on the woman or her purse.
And the two beat cops took the blame.
All they got was a warning.
- What happened to Åke Eriksson? - Well, I'm not a psychiatrist...
But his personality changed.
He turned into a cranky, pedantic, by-the-book cop.
His friends started to avoid him.
He started sending in those complaints.
He reported Nyman and Hult to the Parliamentary Ombudsman.
A year after his wife's death, his lieutenant had him transferred.
But his co-workers avoided him and he was reprimanded.
- What for? Violence? - No, quite the opposite.
No, he was too pedantic. It took hours to perform the simplest tasks.
Einar, maybe we should have some coffee and wake up.
- It's certainly worth a lot. - But it's still cold.
We don't stay there during the winter.
What godawful coffee!
Well, I'm no psychiatrist, but...
It seems like he blames the entire force for his wife's death.
Do you really think Eriksson did this? Why do it now?
After ten years his lust for revenge must have cooled off.
You're on the wrong track, but good luck to you!
Listen, do you think Eriksson's folks are still alive?
The area's called Segeltorp. Gamla Södertäljevägen 36.
- Carsick again? - Yeah...
I'll have to start taking my bike instead.
When Åke left around 11 PM last night, was he his usual self?
- Why do you ask? - It's just a routine question.
He was... his usual self. He doesn't talk much nowadays.
He was concerned about his rent.
And about that business with Malin.
They took the girl away from him.
- And he might lose his apartment. - He thinks he'll be evicted soon.
Who took his daughter away? I presume that Malin is his daughter.
That's right, Malin's his daughter.
I thought you knew that the Child Protection Services had taken Malin.
- Why? - Why did the police murder his wife?
Answer my question, please. Children aren't taken from their parents.
- Not without careful consideration. - Careful, well that's a laugh.
The neighbors reported him to the Child Protection Services.
- What for? - That Åke left Malin alone at night.
That he didn't feed her enough... They came here, too. To snoop.
They said that Åke's...
...depressive... Well, that he was in low spirits.
They said it had "an adverse effect on the girl's psyche".
That's exactly how they put it.
They had talked to his employer too.
They contacted all the supervisors he'd ever had.
- Including the police force? - Of course...
His opinion carried a lot of weight, it seems.
- Do you know who they talked to? - Yes...
It was that Lieutenant Nyman.
The same man that let Åke's wife die.
May I have a look?
Thank you.
Larsson...
Do you have to do that?
Back in those days, your son was a top marksman on the force.
That's right.
- Åke won many fine prizes. - They're not here, he has them.
Can you picture what went through his mind afterwards?
- You're sure it's a man? - Women don't use bayonets much.
And not many wear size 11 shoes.
- Can you picture his mindset? - No, I can't.
How the hell could I?
Well, he primarily uses a Mauser rifle.
And he has a handgun.
- What kind of a handgun? - He won a gold medal.
- What make was it? - A Hammerli International.
And he also has...
What else does he have?
I don't know, but with regard to the Mauser and the Hammerli,
he's got a license, you know.
Don't worry, we don't think there's anything wrong with his permits.
Well, I presume he has a license for this one as well...
After all, he's used it in competitions.
An American automatic rifle.
A Johnson.
What the hell is going on?
- What are you doing, Hult? - Cordoning off the area properly.
That's a bloody waste of resources. Post a guard outside the door.
Hi, could I hitch a ride to the liquor store?
Sergeant Hult, call in.
You are requested to report to Lieutenant Beck.
Well, aren't you going to call in?
In due time. I'm on voluntary duty.
- You didn't see him, did you? - It was a godawful sight.
- What's that, let's go take a look. - The car? No...
- Forget about it... - I won't make it before they close.
This is crazy... I'm out of here.
What the hell...? What happened to Andersson?
- Let go of me! - You'll get killed!
Help! Help!
You in the coat, watch out!
Help! Help!
Let's beat it!
Look!
Watch out!
- Why are you in the fountain? - Go away! It's dangerous here.
- But what are you doing? - Beat it!
Beat it, or you'll get a whipping!
Listen up! Leave the area, your are in danger!
Take cover!
Get inside the buildings!
This is Gunvald Larsson... I'm at Dalagatan 34.
There's a madman armed with an automatic rifle on the roof.
Two policemen are down, in front of the Eastman Institute.
Full alert in the downtown area.
Seal off Dalagatan and Västmannagatan, from Bantorget
to Karlbergsvägen. And Odengatan down to St. Eriksplan as well..
And all the side streets in the vicinity.
Don't send any squad cars or officers in uniform to the location.
Assembly at Odenplan. Good.
What? We're inside the Eastman Institute.
I'll try to get a crack at him soon. Bye.
Fucking hell...
Am I in India?
What kind of gun are you packing? Or are you a fucking pacifist?
Know what, Kollberg? I've always considered you a loser.
So, how are we going to get out on the street?
Walking out would be suicide... And the rear windows would take too long.
- Do you know those two guys? - No.
- Why were they here? - A parking violation.
The question is why they were shot.
Or why the hell someone's shooting at us.
That bastard didn't shoot the kids.
But he obviously recognized us.
He couldn't have recognized those guys in the fountain though.
- They're in uniform. - Someone doesn't like cops...
Did you see if the sniper's on the roof or in an apartment?
Look!
- We're in luck. - What the hell do you mean?
I'm going to risk it.
- Have another cookie. - Thank you, I'm fine.
- Do you mind if we look at his room? - No, that's...
It's probably a mess, though...
Those guys that ran inside have put on white coats...
- The sniper's on the roof. - At least for now.
- He wasn't there the last time. - Let's check it out.
This way...
This is Åke's room.
Of course, it looked neater when he was still living at home.
He took his furniture with him...
What do you think of these spots?
Martin... Look.
- Your son lives on Dalagatan? - Yes, number 34, only...
Please go downstairs, we'll be right with you.
Call Strömgren, or whoever's on duty.
Have him contact Kollberg and get him to call us here.
Do you have the equipment to secure the room? Make the call first...
- Where are you going? - To clean up. It's filthy.
- I have to clean up... - Please remain downstairs.
- Go back downstairs! - What a nasty tone of voice...
- Carrying on like that... - I couldn't stop her.
- I only meant to be helpful. - There, there...
Martin, there's...
All I see are a bunch of pipes...
How about the other door?
Shit!
- What's going on? - Wait inside and stay calm.
- What do we do now? - Go and brief the others.
- I want to get that bastard! - We can't reach him.
So what the hell are we waiting for?
Squad cars... Target practice.
Did you get the names of the tenants up there?
- We need outside access. - Maybe...
Let's go!
Okay, let's roll. Clapper...
- Do we know the sniper's identity? - Unfortunately, no.
All we know is that this madman is out for policemen.
Two officers are down already. We don't know why he targets cops.
- Now what? - The subway!
- Is there a plan? - We're in the process...
- You look terrible, Larsson. - Where is Beck?
We need to use specialists here. Enforcement specialists.
Describe the crime scene.
A madman's picking off cops with an automatic rifle.
The surrounding buildings aren't as high, it'll be hard to gel him.
We have the resources.
I have a suggestion. Let's move inside the sealed-off area.
- The old Gasworks. - The site of the old reservoir?
Can helicopters land there? Is it out of range?
- Unless the bastard's got a mortar. - All right, gentlemen.
We'll move on to the roof of the old gasworks. Assembly in ten minutes.
- Do you plan to storm the roof? - First we want to talk to the man.
I'll use a bullhorn and urge him to give up.
If he doesn't, we'll have to strike.
May I have your attention, this is the police.
In order to make way for emergency vehicles,
we advise you to vacate Odenplan.
Please leave the area and head in the direction of Karlbergsvägen.
Hult!
- I've been trying to contact you. - Really.
Åke Eriksson used your name when he called Mrs Nyman last night.
Åke Eriksson?
- Åke Reinhold Eriksson? - That's right.
- Is he Nyman's killer? - Looks like it.
- And he's the sniper on the roof? - Probably.
He only shoots policemen, according to the report we just received.
- We haven't opened fire on him yet? - We're closing in.
We have established radio contact with our officers.
Tear gas specialists and marksmen have been stationed strategically.
There are only two good spots. The Bonnier building...
Watch it!
...and the Church of Gustav Vasa. Think the vicar will like that?
First, we give him a chance to surrender.
Otherwise, he'll be captured or shot.
We cannot lose any more officers. There are ladder trucks on hand...
- We're ready to go. - Thank you. I'll be right with you.
As I was saying, ladder trucks can be deployed if necessary.
The Fire Dept. will be operating the ladders.
They will be accompanied by policemen in Fire Dept. uniforms.
I have some vital information. If our sniper is Åke Eriksson,
he could be armed with a Johnson automatic rifle
and a Swedish Army repeater. Both rifles have scopes.
- He appears to have a scope. - Christ, a Johnson...
It only weighs seven kilos and has the punch of a machine gun.
450 rounds a minute.
And the Mauser can pick off a flea 600 meters away.
A little luck and a good scope, and he can ice a guy 1,000 meters away.
He can do a lot of damage.
Remember, the sniper must be given the opportunity to surrender.
- Let's go. - Kiss my ass...
- We should strike from the inside. - Skip the guts and glow talk.
This is a team of professionals, we don't need any more amateurs.
Yes, indeed. Heil Hitler!
Rest assured I won't forget that.
Even by to your standards, Gunvald, that was a bad move.
Larsson! For God's sake, behave yourself!
Drive up to the spot we call "Claws", we're safe there.
Then we'll have to pass a short stretch where we'll be in range.
- You'll have to floor it. - Shouldn't I use the siren?
- He hasn't shot any ambulances yet. - Let's hope he'll keep that up...
Do you think he's got his daughter up there?
She's been taken into care. She's not in danger.
Her dad would never hurt her.
Attention please. This is Commissioner Maim.
I don't know you, Eriksson, and you don't know me.
But I assure you that the game is up.
You have ten minutes to surrender in an honorable fashion.
And if he did surrender, how could you tell without this?
74... 747, this is the Commissioner, over.
747 here, commencing Operation Ice-hunt.
- Would you like a cookie? - Yes, please.
- Sugar? - No, a cookie is fine.
642, this is the Commissioner. Countdown initiated.
Ten, nine...
...eight, seven...
...six, five...
...four, three...
...two... one.
Zero.
- Progress to level three. - Roger. Time for level three.
- Was the coffee strong enough? - I haven't had any yet.
- Things are heating up, you see. - I thought it very tasty.
It looks like they're going to try something else: an airborne strike.
They're sending in helicopters.
The police have failed to bring about his surrender,
so now they are flying in, a fairly risky operation.
Take cover! The tank is going to blow up!
- He shot down the helicopter. - Is that your conclusion?
Where's Martin?
- We'll have to call in the army. - What the hell...?
We'll have to call in the armed forces.
- What can they do? - Drop a bomb.
- Bring in the heavy artillery, or... - Or what?
Or deploy paratroopers. We could even drop a dozen police dogs.
- Shut up, Gunvald. - The Fire Dept., I haven't...
- I haven't used the Fire Dept. - It might work.
They didn't kill Eriksson's wife.
What happens if he sees that cops are dressed in firemen's uniforms?
What does Eriksson's wife have to do with this?
A great deal...
Three people are dead and seven are wounded.
And there are loads of people within range.
What if he gets tired of policemen and starts shooting civilians?
This is a one-man mission. I'm the man.
- I cannot allow it. - I'm sorry, but it's my decision.
What kind of reasoning is that, logic or moral?
- Everything going smoothly? - Yes.
- Calling Rönn. - Rönn here, over.
- See anything? - No.
What happened? Rönn?
- A fuse blew in the fire truck. - I know.
- How's Martin? Rönn? - Rönn here.
- What happened? - We don't know!
- Beck must have bought it... - Wait!
Our man in the church tower thinks he can see Beck.
He's lying on a grate on a landing. He appears to be alive.
- We've got to go get him. - And finish this mess.
Go get your buddy, Kollberg. And I'll get the son of a bitch.
- What do you think of my odds? - They're pretty slim.
I need a rope, could you help me out?
We'll blow the doors and storm the roof.
I need assistance, one or possibly two men.
Listen carefully.
I don't want any heroics.
You risk getting shot.
Take me.
You? Right, I can see that you might want to, Hult.
I'll go.
- Who the hell are you? - My name's Bohlin.
- Are you an policeman? - No, a construction worker.
- I live next door. - Give the man a gun.
Could I use my own gun? It'll only lake a minute to get it.
- Be careful turning the corner. - That's illegal. And wrong.
It's damn wrong.
- I'm ready. - I'll take this staircase.
As soon as the fuse is in place, run two flights down.
And anyone who kills the sniper will be held accountable.
- Even if it's in self-defense? - Yes.
Let's synchronize our watches.
Why didn't you shoot? I don't understand.
How could you? Got a license for that gun?
Then expect trouble. Let's get him off the roof.