Free Project Nirvana by Stefan Tegenfalk

bring Leo Brageler back to consciousness. Martin had nothing to contribute to the current situation.
    “It’s me,” the voice on the phone declared.
    At first, Martin was confused, then a crooked smile spread across his face as he realized to whom the voice belonged.
    “Not a day too soon,” he answered. Tor Hedman was back on the hook and under no circumstances would Martin lose him again.
    “I’ve had stuff to do since the Gnesta job,” Tor apologized. Hedman’s voice sounded anxious. Martin suddenly wondered if he was being bugged. Perhaps the National Bureau of Investigation had finally caught Hedman and the moron was trying to cut a deal by throwing Martin under a bus. If Martin continued the conversation, his mobile would soon be traced and the area would be crawling with his colleagues within the hour.
    “You must have the wrong number,” Martin excused himself and turned his phone off.
    Martin felt sweat forming in his pores despite the fact that it was freezing inside the building. He pulled down the zipper on his ski jacket and brushed back his short hair. If Stockholm County CID or some other agency had arrested Hedman, this meant trouble. If he was still at large, then an opportunity had presented itself. Whatever the reason, Hedman wanted to talk with Martin. Martin needed to consult the Mentor first.
    The old man looked thoughtfully at Martin after he had recounted the news of the telephone call and his first reaction to the call. The Mentor put his palms together like a church steeple and let his fingers slowly rest on his pencil-thin lips. If Martin had not known that the old man was an atheist, he would have believed that he was carrying out a form of ritual prayer.
    “It is exactly as I feared,” he said, sitting down on his stool. With his talon-like hands, he started to unbutton his coat. Martin was apparently not the only one feeling the heat in this icy house.
    “We have to find out if it’s a trap,” Martin said. “Perhaps Thomas Kokk is pulling the strings after all.”
    The old man shook his head in disagreement. “No,” he said. “I find that most improbable. Even in the unlikely event that Hedman has been able to give our colleagues any useful information, the leaders of the investigation won’t use it without corroborating evidence. If they get it wrong and allow themselves to be conned by a known criminal trying to save his own neck, then heads will roll. Trust me, no one is going to take that risk. Not even Thomas Kokk.”
    “Kokk doesn’t trust me any more,” Martin argued.
    “He has some suspicions about you after the Gnesta incident, but I don’t think that he is using Hedman to set a trap for you. You’ve been cleared of any charges, which in itself is a miracle. To try to pin that on you again with nothing more than the word of a talkative villain would be professional suicide.
    “It’s good that you are so paranoid, Martin,” the old man continued, “but right now, I don’t think we need to worry ourselves. But it would be best if Hedman is deprived of the ability to spill the beans in the future.”
    Despite the clear logic in the Mentor’s reasoning, Martin’s doubts were not completely banished. He had to find out what Hedman really was up to. The best solution was to get rid of him once and for all. In fact, Hedman had suddenly become his most urgent problem. Leo Brageler and the Diaxtropyl-3S would just have to wait.
    “We must set up a meeting with Hedman,” Martin said. “We now have a chance to take him out permanently. Before Gröhn and Stockholm County CID arrest him.”
    The old man stood up from his stool. “Fight fire with fire,” he suggested.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I seem to remember you telling me that an Albanian was after Hedman.”
    “Haxhi Osmanaj,” said Martin.
    “That’s the name,” the old man smiled. “Lead that Osmanaj fellow to him and let him finish the job for us.”
    Martin thought it over for a short while. The