"Extraordinary."
"After that he heard almost nothing more during his two terms in office. But he did do something extremely shrewd. He insisted that an undersecretary of state be let in on the secret, in case there was a need for a go-between for the government secretariat and those who were protecting Zalachenko."
"Did he remember who it was?"
"It was Bertil K. Janeryd, now Swedish ambassador in The Hague. When it was explained to Falldin how serious this preliminary investigation was, he sat down and wrote to Janeryd."
Modig pushed an envelope across the table.
Dear Bertil,
The secret we both protected during my administration is now the subject of some very serious questions. The person referred to in the matter is now deceased and can no longer come to harm. But other people can.
It is of the utmost importance that we obtain answers to the necessary questions.
The person who bears this letter is working unofficially and has my trust. I urge you to listen to his story and answer his questions.
Use your famous good judgement.
T.F.
"This letter is referring to Holmberg?"
"No. Jerker asked Falldin not to put in a name. He said that he couldn't know who would be going to The Hague."
"You mean . . . ?"
"Jerker and I have discussed it. We're already out on ice so thin that we'll need paddles rather than ice picks. We have no authority to travel to Holland to interview the ambassador. But you could do it."
Blomkvist folded the letter and was putting it into his jacket pocket when Modig grabbed his hand. Her grip was hard.
"Information for information," she said. "We want to hear everything Janeryd tells you."
Blomkvist nodded. Modig stood up.
"Hang on. You said that Falldin was visited by two people from Sapo. One was the chief of Sapo. Who was the other?"
"Falldin met him only on that one occasion and couldn't remember his name. No notes were taken at the meeting. He remembered him as thin with a narrow moustache. But he did recall that the man was introduced as the boss of the Section for Special Analysis, or something like that. Falldin later looked at an organizational chart of Sapo and couldn't find that department."
The Zalachenko club, Blomkvist thought.
Modig seemed to be weighing her words.
"At the risk of ending up dead," she said at last, "there is one record that neither Falldin nor his visitors thought of."
"What was that?"
"Falldin's visitors' logbook at Rosenbad. Jerker requisitioned it. It's a public document."
"And?"
Modig hesitated once again. "The book states only that the prime minister met with the chief of Sapo along with a colleague to discuss general questions."
"Was there a name?"
"Yes. E. Gullberg."
Blomkvist could feel the blood rush to his head.
"Evert Gullberg," he said.
Blomkvist called from Cafe Madeleine on his anonymous mobile to book a flight to Amsterdam. The plane would take off from Arlanda at 2:50. He walked to Dressman on Kungsgatan and bought a shirt and a change of underwear, and then he went to a pharmacy to buy a toothbrush and other toiletries. He checked carefully to see that he was not being followed and hurried to catch the Arlanda Express.
The plane landed at Schiphol airport at 4:50, and by 6:30 he was checking in to a small hotel about fifteen minutes' walk from The Hague's Centraal station.
He spent two hours trying to locate the Swedish ambassador and made contact by telephone at around 9:00. He used all his powers of persuasion and explained that he was there on a matter of great urgency. The ambassador finally relented and agreed to meet him at 10:00 on Sunday morning.
Then Blomkvist went out and had a light dinner at a restaurant near his hotel. He was asleep by 11:00.
*
Ambassador Janeryd was in no mood for small talk when he offered Blomkvist coffee at his residence on Lange Voorhout.
"Well, what is it that's so urgent?"
"Alexander Zalachenko. The Russian defector who came to Sweden in 1976," Blomkvist said, handing him the letter from Falldin.
Janeryd looked surprised. He read the letter and laid it on the table beside him.
Blomkvist explained the background and why Falldin had written to him.
"I . . . I can't discuss this matter," Janeryd said at last.
"I think you can."
"No. I can only speak of it with the constitutional committee."
"There's a great probability that you will have to do just that. But this letter tells you to use your own good judgement."
"Falldin is an honest man."
"I don't doubt that. And I'm not looking to damage either you or Falldin. Nor do I ask you to tell me a single military secret that Zalachenko may have revealed."
"I don't know any secrets. I didn't even know that his name was Zalachenko. I only knew him by his cover name, Ruben. But it's absurd that you should think I would discuss it with a journalist."
"Let me give you one very good reason why you should," Blomkvist said and sat up straight in his chair. "This whole story is going to be published very soon. And when that happens, the media will either tear you to pieces or describe you as an honest civil servant who made the best of an impossible situation. You were the one Falldin assigned to be the go-between with those who were protecting Zalachenko. I already know that."
Janeryd was silent for almost a minute.
"Listen, I never had any information, not the remotest idea of the background you've described. I was young. . . . I didn't know how I should deal with these people. I met them about twice a year during the time I worked for the government. I was told that Ruben--your Zalachenko--was alive and healthy, that he was cooperating, and that the information he provided was invaluable. I was never privy to the details. I had no 'need to know.'"
Blomkvist waited.
"The defector had operated in other countries and knew nothing about Sweden, so he was never a major factor for security policy. I informed the prime minister on a couple of occasions, but there was never very much to report."
"I see."
"They always said that he was being handled in the customary way and that the information he provided was being processed through the appropriate channels. What could I say? If I asked for clarification, they smiled and said that it was outside my security clearance level. I felt like an idiot."
"You never considered the fact that there might be something wrong with the arrangement?"
"No. There was nothing wrong with the arrangement. I took it for granted that Sapo knew what they were doing and had the appropriate routines and experience. But I can't talk about this."
Janeryd had by this time been talking about it for several minutes.
"OK. But all this is beside the point. Only one thing is important right now."
"What?"
"The names of the individuals you had your meetings with."
Janeryd gave Blomkvist a puzzled look.
"The people who were looking after Zalachenko went far beyond their jurisdiction. They've committed serious criminal acts, and they'll be the subject of a preliminary investigation. That's why Falldin sent me to see you. He doesn't know who they are. You were the one who met them."
Janeryd blinked and pressed his lips together.
"One was Evert Gullberg. . . . He was the top man."
Janeryd nodded.
"How many times did you meet him?"
"He was at every meeting except one. There were about ten meetings during the time Falldin was prime minister."
"Where did you meet?"
"In the lobby of some hotel. Usually the Sheraton. Once at the Amaranth on Kungsholmen and sometimes at the Continental pub."
"And who else was at the meetings?"
"It was a long time ago; I don't remember."
"Try."
"There was a . . . Clinton. Like the Amer