Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

Corberg hadn't even had time to take off his coat when the phone rang. "Hi, I'm Kohlberg...what?" He stood by the messy desk and looked out the window blankly.The transition from pleasant domestic life to ugly police work was not easy for Kohlberg, at least not as easily as Martin Baker. "What's the matter? Well, tell them I'll be right there." Kohlberg drove again, and this time he was bound to be stuck in traffic. He arrived at the Kings Island Street police station at 8:45 and parked in the open lot outside.As soon as Kohlberg got out of the car, he saw Larson preparing to drive away.

The two nodded to each other, but did not speak.He meets Len in the hallway. "You're here too," Lehn said. "Yeah, what's going on?" "Someone hacked Neiman." "Chopped?" "Yes, with a bayonet," said Lehn sadly. "In Sabasberry." "I saw Larson just now, is he going to Sabasberry?" Lehn nodded. "Where's Martin?" "In Melander's office." Kohlberg stared carefully at Lehn. "You look like you're dying." "I'm dying," Lehn said. "Why don't you go home and sleep?"

Le En gave him a helpless look, then walked along the corridor.Le En took some documents, it seems that there should be work to be done. Kohlberg knocked on the door and went in.Martin Baker, who was buried in his notes, didn't even look up. "Hi," he said. "What the hell is Leon talking about?" "Here, see for yourself." Martin Baker handed the two typed sheets to Kolberg, who sat down at the table and began to read. "How do you feel?" asked Martin Baker. "I thought Lehn's report was poorly written," Kolberg said. He spoke very seriously, and five seconds later he added:

“Looks scary” "You're right," said Martin Baker, "I thought so too." "How does it look?" "Unbelievably bad." Kohlberg shook his head, he could probably imagine what was going on. "We better catch this guy asap." "You're right again," said Martin Baker. "What do we have?" "There are some clues, we found a few footprints, maybe some fingerprints, no one heard or saw anything." "That doesn't sound good," Kolberg said. "That's going to take a while to track down, and this guy is dangerous."

Martin Baker nodded. Le En knocked carefully on the door and came in. "It hasn't been found yet," he said. "I mean about the fingerprints." "Fingerprints are useless," Kolberg said. "There's another clear footprint," Lehn said in surprise, "probably a boot or a heavy work shoe." "That's useless—" Coleberg said, "don't get me wrong, the footprints may be very important physical evidence in the future, but the immediate priority is to catch Nieman's murderer first, and then determine him later. sin."

"That doesn't sound like much logic," Lehn said. "True, but never mind that. We have a few other important leads." "Yes, we have the murder weapon," mused Martin Baker, "an old carbine bayonet." "There's a motive," Kolberg said. "Motive?" Lehn asked. "Yeah," Kolberg said, "probably revenge, that's the only motive we can think of." "But if it's for revenge..." Leon didn't finish his sentence. "Then the man who killed Nieman was probably planning revenge on someone else," Kolberg said, "so—"

"We have to bring him to justice as soon as possible," Martin Baker said. "That's right," said Kohlberg. "What do you think?" Lehn looked sullenly at Martin Baker, who looked out the window, and Kolberg frowned at the two. "Wait a minute," he said, "have you ever thought of a question: Who is Nieman?" "Who is he?" Le En was confused by the question, while Martin Baker remained silent. "That's right. Who is Nieman? Or, more to the point, what kind of person is Nieman?" "It's the police," said Martin Baker at last.

"That case isn't quite right," said Corberg. "Say, you both know him. What kind of man is Nieman?" "He's a criminal team leader." Le En muttered, blinking inexplicably. "I have to make some calls." He excused himself and slipped away. When Lehn closed the door, Kohlberg said, "Well, what kind of person is Nieman?" Martin Baker looked at him and said reluctantly: "He's a bad cop." "Wrong," said Coleberg. "Listen: Nieman is the worst bad cop, the lowest kind of scum a son of a bitch can raise."

"You said that, not I," said Martin Baker. "I said it, but you must admit that I was right." "I don't know him very well." "Stop talking about him, at least you know he's a bad guy, right? Le En has been his subordinate, so it's not convenient to say anything, but what the hell are you being polite about?" "Well, well," said Martin Baker, "I've heard nothing good about him, but I've never worked with him." "You're still missing the point," Kohlberg said. "That man Nieman can't work with anyone else. You can only take orders from him and do things according to his wishes. Of course, if you are his officer, or You can order him around, but it's a pity that Nieman won't listen to you at all."

"It sounds like you know Nieman better than his father," Martin Baker sarcastically said. "Yeah, I know some things that you don't know, but I'll get to that later. First, let's be clear, Nieman's a fucking cop and the number one scum in the police force. Shame on serving in the same city for the same period of time." "So, many people should feel ashamed?" "Yes, but there are not many people who are ashamed." "Shouldn't every policeman in London be ashamed of Chaloner?" "You're wrong again," said Coleberg. "Chaloner and his minions were brought to trial despite their misdeeds. That shows that lawlessness is not tolerated in the police force."

Martin Baker rubbed his temples thoughtfully. "But Nieman has never been accused. Why?" Kohlberg asked himself and answered: "Because everyone knows that it is useless to sue the police. The general public has no power to fight against the police. If you can't even sue an ordinary patrol policeman, wouldn't it be courting death to sue the criminal team leader? " "You're exaggerating." "No, Martin, I'm not exaggerating at all. You know that too well. The problem is that the police are used to unity, and this circle is used to protecting each other." "Maintaining a solidarity posture is very important to policing," Martin Baker said. "It has always been like this." "What I'm most afraid of is that this will be the only thing left in the near future." Kollberg took a breath, and continued: "Well, the police are indeed united to the outside world, but which one is it on?" "Someday if someone can answer that question—" Martin Baker was only halfway through, and Kohlberg concluded: "Neither you nor I will see that day." "What does this have to do with Nieman?" "It matters a lot." "How to say?" "Niman is dead, there is no need to defend him, but the murderer may really be crazy, which is dangerous to himself and others." "You mean we can find the killer from Nyman's past?" "Yes, the murderer must have something to do with Nyman's past. The analogy you just made is not bad." "What metaphor?" "Compare him to Chalonna." "I don't know about Chaloner," said Martin Baker dryly. "Perhaps you do?" "No, no one knows, but I know that many people were bullied by him, and many others were persecuted by the prejudiced police, and they sat in prison for a long time, but no police officer or subordinate has spoken out." "Their superiors protect their weaknesses," says Martin Baker. "Their subordinates fear losing their jobs." "What's worse, some subordinates think that this is the style of the police, and they don't know there are other ways." Martin Baker got up and went to the window. "Tell me what you know about Nieman that other people don't know," he said. "Niman's position gives him direct command over a lot of young officers, and basically he can do whatever he wants." "That was a long time ago," Martin Baker said. "It hasn't been that long, but many people in the police force today are trained by him. Do you know what that means? Over time, many young police officers have been brought down by him. The mentality of performing police work has been Twisted, many people still look up to him as a role model, hoping to be as tyrannical as him one day. Do you understand?" "Understood," Martin Baker said helplessly, "I understand what you mean, you don't have to keep saying this." He turned to look at Kohlberg. "But that doesn't mean I take your word for it. Do you know Nyman?" "know." "Have you ever worked under him?" "Done." Martin Baker raised an eyebrow. "When did it happen? I would like to hear more about it." He said suspiciously. "Sevre's bad bastard..." Kollberg said to himself. "what is that?" "Bad bastard from Cypher. That's what we used to call him." "'who are we?" "During World War II, we called him that in the army. I learned a lot from Neiman." "For example?" "Good question," said Kohlberg absently. Martin Baker eyed the deputy curiously. "Like what, Kohlberg?" he asked in a low voice. "For example, how to cut off a pig's cock without making it bark; how to cut off the same pig's legs and still keep it from barking; how to gouge out its eyeballs without making it scream Cutting, skinning and breaking bones, but it still doesn't make a sound," Kolberg shuddered. "Do you know how to do it?" Kolberg asked. Martin Baker shook his head, and Kohlberg said: "It's very simple. Cut off the pig's tongue at the beginning." Kolberg looked out the window at the cold blue sky on the roof across the road. "Well, he taught a lot: how to cut the throat of a sheep with a steel wire so it doesn't grunt; how to deal with a feral cat that's locked with you; how to growl at a cow and then stab the bayonet in the cow's stomach If you don't yell hard enough, you'll have to climb up and down the ladder in the training tower fifty times with bricks on your back. Also, he won't let you kill the stray cats, because the stray cats have to be kept. Do you know what it's for? ?” "have no idea." "Put a knife through the cat's skin and nail it to the wall." "You used to be a paratrooper, right?" "Yes, Nieman is my hand-to-hand training palace. Among other things, he buries me in piles of freshly killed animal offal to experience that feeling; teaches me to spit myself into the filth of a gas mask to eat; to swallow one's own excrement so as not to leave traces." "What rank was he at that time?" "Sergeant. He taught a lot of things you couldn't learn in a classroom, like how to break a man's arms and legs, smash a throat, or gouge out an eyeball with his thumb. These things can only be done on living things." Learn, and sheep and pigs are easy to get. We also experimented with gunpowder on different animals, especially live pigs. It was not like today, we would anesthetize the piglets first.” "Is that considered normal training?" "I don't know, what is your definition of normal training? Is that kind of thing normal?" "Probably not." "Even if for some ridiculous reason, you feel that those trainings are necessary, you may not be able to enjoy them." "That's right. You mean Nieman's enjoying it?" "It should be, and he taught many young people this thing, let them enjoy the pleasure of brutal violence, brag about their bestiality. Some people can really think of such a thing." "In other words, he's a sadist." "And he's one of the best. He calls himself a 'tough guy'. Nieman is born with a hard heart. He believes that to be a real man, the most important thing is to be hard-hearted, whether it is psychological or physical. He always It is to encourage everyone to bully the weak, saying that this is a part of military training and education." "That doesn't mean he's a sadist." "His characteristics are manifested in many ways. Nieman strictly demands discipline. Maintaining discipline is one thing, but how to impose punishment is another. Nieman will find trouble with one or a few people every day, picking buttons off People who are caught must make a choice for such trivial matters as being caught." "Choose what?" "Report to the higher authorities or get a beating. If you report to the higher authorities, you will be imprisoned for three days, plus a bad service record, so most people choose to be beaten." "What are the tricks of being beaten?" "I've only been caught once, when I was late to camp on a Saturday, climbed over a wall, and was caught by Nieman on the spot. I chose to be beaten. In my case, I stood at attention with a bar of soap in my mouth and let him He broke two of my ribs with his fist. Afterwards, he rewarded me with a cup of coffee and a piece of cake, and told me that he thought I could become a real tough guy, a soldier who stands up to the sky." "and then?" "As soon as the war was over, I tried to find a way to sneak out of the army quickly, and then I ran here to work as a policeman. Who knew that I met Nieman as soon as I entered the industry, and he was already a patrolman at that time." "You mean he's doing the same thing in the police force?" "Maybe not quite the same, otherwise he would not be able to get away easily. But maybe he is used to abuse and violence against his subordinates and prisoners under arrest. I have heard all kinds of rumors over the years." "Should someone have sued him?" Martin Baker mused. "I believe there must be, but because of the protection of officials, I believe these reports were destroyed and the bones were thrown into the trash can. So we can't find any clues here." Martin Baker suddenly had an idea. "But people who have been severely abused must be sued to the Disciplinary Office." "It's useless," said Corberg. "A man like Nieman will try to get a police officer to testify for him that he didn't do anything. If the young policeman dares to refuse, he will have nothing to do. As for Those who have been taught badly will only feel that they are doing their duty faithfully. People outside the police circle have no way to touch the head of the criminal team." "It's true," Martin Baker said, "but even if the Disciplinary Office doesn't take action, it won't throw away the report. It will be filed in the end. The report should still be there." Kohlberg said slowly: "You have a good idea, you are right." He thought for a while. "It would be great if we could have a civil servant review department responsible for recording all cases of police violations. Unfortunately, there is no such agency in Sweden. However, maybe the Disciplinary Office can give us some clues." "And the murder weapon," said Martin Baker. "The carbine bayonet must have come from the army. Not everyone can get such a thing. I'll let Lehn look into it." "Okay. Then ask Le En to accompany you to the Disciplinary Office to find files." "how about you?" "I want to go and see Nieman first," Kohlberg said. "Of course, Larson has already gone, but it doesn't matter, I want to go. I want to know how I will react, maybe want to Throw it up, but at least I'm not being forced to eat my own filth." Martin Baker looked less tired, he straightened up. "Coleberry." "What's up?" "What did you call him before? 'Bad bastard from Cypher,' huh?" "Yeah, he's a Cypher, and he's always talking about it. He says Cyphers are the toughest, real men. Like I said, he's really nasty, it's me The most pathological sadist I've ever seen." Martin Baker stared at Kohlberg for a long time. "Perhaps you're right," he said. "There is still a chance, good luck and hope you can find some clues." That vague sense of crisis crept into Martin Baker's mind again. "I think it must be a bad day." "Yeah," said Coleberg, "it's all over the place, and now you don't want to speak for Nyman anymore, do you?" "Ok." "Remember, Nieman no longer needs us to protect him. By the way, this reminds me that he has a loyal henchman named Huerth all these years. If Huerter is still in the police , should have been promoted to captain. We need to send someone to talk to him." Martin Baker nodded. Le En pushed the door open and came in. He couldn't even stand firmly, he looked like he was about to fall at any time, his eyeballs were bloodshot due to lack of sleep. "What now?" he asked. "We have a lot of things to do, can you still hold on?" "Okay, it should hold up." Le En swallowed his yawn as he said.