“Lars Lund,” said Harvath, the feeling in his stomach climbing into his throat.
“I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Lund died this evening as a result of the injuries he suffered.”
Harvath masked his feelings. He was highly skeptical of car accidents, especially when they involved skilled intelligence operatives in the middle of assignments. He felt the same way about plane crashes and hit-and-runs.
Experienced people in the espionage game tended to be very careful. As a rule, they checked and then double-checked everything. They didn’t take unnecessary risks.
When they did end up the victim of an “accident,” foul play always had to be considered. “What can you tell me about it?” Harvath asked.
“From what we can surmise, Mr. Lund was traveling at a high rate of speed and lost control,” said the officer. “Is there a reason why he may have been in such a hurry?”
Harvath shrugged. “None that I can think of.”
“Exactly why was Mr. Lund coming to meet you?”
“He was supposed to have been our host.”
“Host for what?” asked Nyström.
“Mr. Lund worked for the Swedish Defense Force back in Stockholm. We were going to tour the island with him and discuss logistics for an upcoming multilateral training exercise.”
Harvath knew that Swedish authorities, particularly those on Gotland, were alert to potential Russian infiltration. At the same time, they had also become increasingly accustomed to military training exercises with NATO. That meant the closer he stuck to the truth of why he and his team were here, the less chance their presence would raise any alarm.
“Can you tell me more about this exercise?” the Chief Inspector inquired.
“Unfortunately, not without approval from higher up. What I can say is that it’s an unannounced drill designed to test joint readiness. Participants, including the garrison here on Gotland, would be given a scenario and then be graded on how quickly they mobilized and how well they responded.”
“So the exercise is a secret?”
“That’s a good word for it, but I think surprise would be more accurate. By surprising them and not giving them time to prepare, we’re better able to measure how they would react in real life.”
Nyström seemed to buy it, and handed Harvath his credentials back. “Should I not alert the garrison commander about claiming the body then?” he asked.
Harvath had to think quickly. “That should probably be up to the Swedish armed forces. It’s their choice if they want to inform the garrison commander or not. They might decide to send someone from Stockholm to quietly claim the body.”
“Indeed,” replied the Chief Inspector. “Speaking of which, did you know Mr. Lund personally?”
“I did.”
“As he’s from the mainland, we don’t have anyone on Gotland who can confirm his identity. Would you be willing to come with me to the hospital?”
“Now?”
“Yes,” said Nyström. “If it is not too much trouble.”
“Of course,” replied Harvath. “Give me a couple of minutes to inform my colleagues inside the plane about what has happened.”
“Absolutely. Take your time.”
• • •
“What’s the story, boss?” Haney asked, as Harvath came back aboard the aircraft.
The team had all assembled up front as they watched the conversation unfolding on the tarmac.
“Allegedly,” said Harvath, “the man in the hat was involved in a car accident tonight. According to the police, he died of injuries sustained in the crash.”
A silence fell over the plane.
“They have asked me to go to the hospital with them and identify the body.”
“Bad idea,” stated Staelin.
“Agreed,” replied Chase. “On the way to meet us, the man in the hat dies in a car crash? Now three strangers show up and want you to drive off someplace with them? How do we even know they’re real cops?”
“I don’t like it,” added Sloane.
“I don’t like it either,” Harvath responded. “But I want to confirm the body is Lund’s. If this is legit, we might need the local police.”
“And if it’s not legit?” Jasinski asked.
“Then make sure Nicholas gets all my vinyl.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Relax,” he continued. “Everything is going to be fine. But in case it isn’t, I’d like to have my Sig with me.”
“Good call,” she said, handing his pistol back to him.
“Let’s find room for this, too,” said Haney, holding up a small GPS tracking device and tossing it to him. Harvath tucked it in his pocket.
“The man in the hat was supposed to hook us up with vehicles. How are we going to follow you?” Sloane asked.
“If worse comes to worst, Gotland has Uber. We’re only a few kilometers from the city center, so there should be plenty,” replied Harvath. “For now, though, I want you to send Ryan an update on our situation and have her reach out to Carl Pedersen. He has some good contacts in MUST and knows what’s at stake. He’ll help put a lid on this.
“Chase, I want you deplane and see if you can secure a courtesy car from the FBO. Barton, we’re going to need at least two permanent vehicles while we’re here, so check what the airport rental agencies have and try to nail something down. Haney, no one touches our gear but you. It stays onboard this plane until you’re sure the police are gone. In the meantime, Staelin, I want you to figure out where we’re going to bunk.”
“How long do you think we’re going to be here?” he asked.
“As long as it takes,” Harvath stated. “Okay, that’s it. Everybody get to work. Let’s go.”
While the team jumped up to do as he had directed, Jasinski stopped him. “Sloane explained to me that Lund was close to Pedersen and your boss. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. He was one of the good guys. Took a lot of risks over the years. Those risks made a difference.”
“Does MUST really know we’re here, or was Lars Lund the only one who knew?”
Harvath wasn’t sure how he wanted to answer her question, but decided to tell her the truth. “Lars was the only one who knew we were coming. I doubt he shared it with anyone else.”
“That makes what we’re doing, what you’re doing, even more dangerous.” Placing her hand gently on his shoulder, she warned, “Be careful.”
CHAPTER 22
* * *
Harvath carried his Sig Sauer in a neoprene Sticky brand holster, tucked inside his waistband at the small of his back. It was uncomfortable, and he wanted to adjust it. He didn’t dare to, though, for fear of tipping off Nyström that he was armed. Instead, he tried to focus on the sights and sounds of Visby by night.
It was a medieval city that functioned as the island’s capital. A UNESCO world heritage site, it was the best-preserved fortified commercial city in Northern Europe. Its Old Town looked like something out of a movie.
Strung with painted cottages, cobblestone lanes, and the ruins of Romanesque and Gothic churches, its most dramatic features were the largely intact thirteenth-century ramparts surrounding it. Harvath could only imagine what a draw it was at the height of summer.