Free Chez Max by Jakob Arjouni

afforded on his officially declared income.
    But in spite of the early initial suspicion, and a whole series of clues backing it up, it was over a year before the investigators worked out how the Hallsunds were getting the diamonds past airport security, and then they were finally caught in the act. Their trick was so simple and obvious that one of the investigators described it in an article entitled ‘Losing the Glasses on Your Nose’, written for a specialist criminological magazine, and commented: ‘When I think of the case, I still shake my head even years later, feeling bewildered and slightly ashamed.’
    It went like this: when Hallsund and his flamboyant wife Inga, who was always showily dressed even in everyday life, left Sweden to fly to the Congolese mines, Inga wore necklaces, rings, bracelets, sometimes even a tiara, as if they were flying not to a remote mine but to some sultan’s wedding. However, as Inga hardly ever appeared in public anyway without being decked out like some kind of Christmas tree worth millions, the investigators thought of it only at the start. Her jewellery was inspected and registered twice, on leaving the country and on coming in again, and neither time could anything be found wrong: Inga came back with the same stones and necklaces as she had worn when she flew out. In addition, at the second check on her jewellery the couple began acting to the officials searching them and their baggage with such maliciously sarcastic condescension, virtually mounting a savage attack on them, that the security officers on all the day and night shifts were soon glad to give up checking the two of them too thoroughly. At the airport, Hallsund would often address them, even from a distance, with remarks such as, ‘Well, dirty pigs, want to get your sweaty hands on my wife’s underwear again? Diamonds? You must be joking! You probably don’t get too many dates, not on your salaries, so you have to do a bit of groping and pawing at work – gives you something to fantasize about later, right? And you let the gay ones loose on me! Last week one of them was stroking me right down there when he did the body search – is that why you join the border security troops, to get those opportunities?’
    (Such, anyway, were his words as reported by the lecturer taking our training course, who had enjoyed recounting the story in detail, and but for whose dramatic presentation the parallel with Chen’s behaviour wouldn’t have been very likely to occur to me.)
    In addition, the fuss he made always attracted a crowd of passengers and airport employees, and the security officer not only had to put up with insults and obscenities but also the attention of members of the public, watching with expressions ranging from sympathy to amusement. And the more members of the public there were, the more Hallsund stepped up the pace. In the process, of course he never forgot to mention that he had governmental backing.
    â€˜â€¦ Would you dirty pigs like to know who’s having to keep dinner waiting for me while you fumble us?’
    â€˜Mr Hallsund, we’re only doing our job.’
    â€˜Ah, well, I’ll tell that to the Minister for Economic Affairs: the dirty pigs are only doing their job, and their job is feeling up my lovely Inga’s breasts and between her legs. The Minister won’t like it. Because shall I tell you why he invites me so often? For Inga’s sake, of course. He’d like to feel her up himself, but seeing that he’s not a border security officer but only Minister for Economic Affairs, he…’
    â€˜Would you open your bag, please, Mr Hallsund?’
    â€˜By all means. Look, chock-full of diamonds – smelly sock diamonds, sweaty T-shirt diamonds, the famous and unique aftershave diamond… Anyway, all the Minister for Economic Affairs can do with my Inga is stare at her neckline like an idiot the whole time. He’s