This was enough for Figuerola's team to initiate the preliminary investigation: to inquire whether the robbers had a connection to the neo-Nazi gang in Varmland, and whether the robbery could be defined as a racist crime. If so, the incident might be included in that year's statistical compilation, which would then itself be incorporated within the European statistics put together by the EU's office in Vienna.
"I have a difficult assignment for you," Edklinth said. "It's a job that could land you in big trouble. Your career might be ruined. But if things go well, it could be a major step forward for you."
"I'm all ears."
"I'm thinking of moving you to the Constitutional Protection operations unit."
"Forgive me for mentioning this, but Constitutional Protection doesn't have an operations unit."
"Yes, it does," Edklinth said. "I established it this morning. At present it consists of you."
"I see," said Figuerola hesitantly.
"The task of Constitutional Protection is to defend the constitution against what we call 'internal threats,' most often those on the extreme left or the extreme right. But what do we do if a threat to the constitution comes from within our own organization?"
For the next half hour he told her what Armansky had told him the night before.
"Who is the source of these claims?" Figuerola said when the story was ended.
"Focus on the information, not the source."
"What I'm wondering is whether you consider the source to be reliable."
"I consider the source to be totally reliable. I've known this person for many years."
"It all sounds a bit . . . I don't know. Improbable?"
"I know. It's the stuff of a spy novel."
"How do you expect me to go about tackling it?"
"Starting now, you're released from all other duties. Your task, your only task, is to investigate the truth of this story. You have to either verify or dismiss the claims one by one. You report directly and only to me."
"I see what you mean when you say I might land in it up to my neck."
"But if the story is true--if even a fraction of it is true--then we have a constitutional crisis on our hands."
"Where do you want me to begin?"
"Start with the simple things. First, read the Bjorck report. Then identify the people who are allegedly tailing this guy Blomkvist. According to my source, the car belongs to Goran Martensson, a police officer living on Vittangigatan in Vallingby. Then identify the other person in the pictures taken by Blomkvist's photographer. The younger blond man here."
Figuerola was making notes.
"Then look into Gullberg's background. I'd never heard his name before, but my source believes there's a connection between him and the Security Police."
"So somebody here at SIS put out a contract on a former spy using a seventy-eight-year-old man. I don't believe it."
"Nevertheless, check it out. Your entire investigation has to be carried out without a single person other than me knowing anything at all about it. Before you take any action I want to be informed. I don't want to see any rings on the water."
"This is one hell of an investigation. How am I going to do all this alone?"
"You won't have to. You have to do only the first check. If you come back and say that you didn't find anything, then everything is fine. If you come back having found anything as my source describes it, then we'll decide what to do."
Figuerola spent her lunch hour pumping iron in the police gym. Lunch consisted of black coffee and a meatball sandwich with beet salad, which she took back to her office. She closed her door, cleared her desk, and started reading the Bjorck report while she ate.
She also read the appendix with the correspondence between Bjorck and Dr. Teleborian. She made a note of every name and every incident in the report that had to be verified. After two hours she got up, went to the coffee machine, and got a refill. When she left her office she locked the door, part of the routine at SIS.
Back at her desk, the first thing she did was check the report's protocol number. She called the registrar and was informed that no report with that protocol number existed. Her second check was to consult a media archive. That yielded better results. The evening papers and a morning paper had reported a person being badly injured in a car fire on Lundagatan on the date in question in 1991. The victim of the incident was a middle-aged man, but no name was given. One evening paper reported that, according to a witness, the fire had been started deliberately by a young girl.
Gunnar Bjorck, the author of the report, was a real person. He was a senior official in the immigration unit, lately on sick leave and now, very recently, deceased--a suicide.
The personnel department had no information about what Bjorck had been working on in 1991. The file was stamped TOP SECRET, even for other employees at SIS. Which was routine.
It was a straightforward matter to establish that Salander had lived with her mother and twin sister on Lundagatan in 1991 and spent the following two years at St. Stefan's children's psychiatric clinic. In these sections at least, the record corresponded with the report's contents.
Peter Teleborian, now a well-known psychiatrist often seen on TV, had worked at St. Stefan's in 1991 and was today its senior physician.
Figuerola then called the assistant head of the personnel department.
"We're working on an analysis here in CP that requires evaluating a person's credibility and general mental health. I need to consult a psychiatrist or some other professional who's approved to handle classified information. Dr. Peter Teleborian was mentioned to me, and I was wondering whether I could hire him."
It took a while before she got an answer.
"Dr. Teleborian has been an external consultant for SIS in a couple of instances. He has security clearance, and you can discuss classified information with him in general terms. But before you approach him, you have to follow the bureaucratic procedure. Your supervisor must approve the consultation and make a formal request for you to be allowed to approach Dr. Teleborian."
Her heart sank. She had verified something that could be known only to a very restricted group of people. Teleborian had indeed had dealings with SIS.
She put down the report and focused her attention on other aspects of the information that Edklinth had given her. She studied the photographs of the two men who had allegedly followed the journalist Blomkvist from Cafe Copacabana on May 1.
She consulted the vehicle registry and found that Goran Martensson was the owner of a grey Volvo with the registration number legible in the photographs. Then she got confirmation from the SIS personnel department that he was employed there. Her heart sank again.
Martensson worked in Personal Protection. He was a bodyguard. He was one of the officers responsible on formal occasions for the safety of the prime minister. For the past few weeks he had been loaned to Counter-Espionage. His leave of absence had begun on April 10, a couple of days after Zalachenko and Salander had landed in Sahlgrenska hospital. But that sort of temporary reassignment was not unusual--covering a shortage of personnel here or there in an emergency situation.
Then Figuerola called the assistant chief of Counter-Espionage, a man she knew and had worked for during her short time in that department. Was Goran Martensson working on anything important, or could he be borrowed for an investigation in Constitutional Protection?
The assistant chief of Counter-Espionage was puzzled. Inspector Figuerola must have been misinformed. Martensson had not been reassigned to Counter-Espionage. Sorry.
Figuerola stared at her receiver for two minutes. In Personal Protection they believed that Martensson had been loaned out to Counter-Espionage. Counter-Espionage said that they definitely had not borrowed him. Transfers of that kind had to be approved by the chief of Secretariat. She reached for the phone to call him, but stopped short. If Personal Protection had loaned out Martensson, then the chief of Secretariat must have approved the decision. But Martensson was not at Co
unter-Espionage, which the chief of Secretariat must be aware of. And if Martensson was loaned out to some department that was tailing journalists, then the chief of Secretariat would have to know about that too.
Edklinth had told her he didn't want any rings in the water. To raise the matter with the chief of Secretariat might be to chuck a very large stone into a pond.
Berger sat at her desk in the glass cage. It was 10:30 on Monday morning. She badly needed the cup of coffee she had just gotten from the machine in the cafeteria. The first hours of her workday had been taken up entirely with meetings, starting with one lasting fifteen minutes in which Assistant Editor Fredriksson presented the guidelines for the day's work. She was increasingly dependent on Fredriksson's judgement due to her loss of confidence in Anders Holm.
The second was an hour-long meeting with the CEO, Magnus Borgsjo; SMP's CFO, Christer Sellberg; and Ulf Flodin, the budget chief. The discussion was about the slump in advertising and the downturn in single-copy sales. The budget chief and the CFO were both determined to cut the newspaper's overhead.
"We made it through the first quarter of this year thanks to a marginal rise in advertising sales and the fact that two senior, highly paid employees retired. Those positions have not been filled," Flodin said. "We'll probably close out the present quarter with a small deficit. But the free papers, Metro and Stockholm City, are cutting into our ad revenue in Stockholm. My prognosis is that the third quarter will produce a significant loss."