Validating phony army interrogators exposed

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Twisting herself onto her left side, she saw Birgitta lying nearby, as tightly bound as she herself was.Scarcely had Kristin taken in this sight when she heard Olsson order the male bookkeeper to tie up yet a third employee—Elisabeth Oldgren, a twenty-one-year-old cashier in the foreign-exchange department, who had been with the bank fourteen months.The romance had eventually foundered, though, and at that point she had realized that the world of banking wasn’t for her.Impatiently, in the spring of 1973, she had decided to study social work, but the courses she needed, she had discovered, wouldn’t be getting under way until September.Instinctively, most of his terrified audience at the Kreditbank dropped to the floor, but some secluded themselves in a small repository for securities, and others, panicked or intrepid, or both, made for the exits, rushing pell-mell into Norrmalmstorg, perhaps Stockholm’s busiest square, whose dominant feature is the Kreditbank’s own squat, massive façade, five stories high.Planting his transistor radio on a teller’s counter, Olsson turned it on full blast, and the bank’s marble interior abruptly reverberated to the sounds of rock music.Until Olsson brought Kristin and Elisabeth together, so to speak, they had had only the barest nodding acquaintance—a fact that seems astonishing to them now, for, as they were to discover in the next several days, they had much in common. Elisabeth, too, was awaiting admission to a school in the fall—in her case, a nursing school.And, like Kristin, Elisabeth had a love of the north country; though she had been born and brought up in Uppsala, only an hour out of Stockholm, more than once she had visited the Arctic region, whose frozen wastes, she said, reminded her of human loneliness.

Still brandishing his submachine gun, he was announcing in English, “The party has just begun”—a line, police investigators later established, that he had recently heard while seeing an American movie about a convict on the loose.She liked the rhythm of her work and the responsibility that went with her duties; whenever she contemplated her future, she told me, it included the bank and, of course, her family.At the time of Olsson’s entrance, she recalled, she was wondering whether to investigate a sale of children’s apparel at a nearby shop during her lunch break, but that possibility passed quickly from her mind with the violent stranger’s arrival.I believed I was seeing something that could happen only in America.” Horrified, she watched Olsson take some rope from his canvas bag and hand it to a male bookkeeper, whom he commanded to bind her hands and ankles with it.On the floor in a matter of seconds, and shifting uncomfortably in her bonds, Kristin regretted the day she had ever left home—a gold-mining village in Sweden’s far north.

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