The Chief Inspector listened in disbelief. He wanted to say that it wasn’t Johansson; that it couldn’t be, but the voice on the recording was unmistakable. It was Johansson, and he had incriminated himself by admitting to the unthinkable.
“I’m sure you recognize his voice,” said Harvath.
Nyström nodded. “Yes, that’s him. Where is he?”
Harvath walked back to the squad car and popped the trunk. Coming to join him, the Chief Inspector looked inside. There, still hog-tied and hooded, was Johansson in his uniform. Harvath pulled the hood from his head so Nyström could be certain.
Reaching up, the Chief Inspector took hold of the lid and slammed it shut. “What is it you want?”
He was angry, and understandably so. Harvath needed to be very careful about how he threaded this needle.
“First and foremost, I believe I want the same thing you do.”
“Which is what?”
“For the Russians not to invade Gotland,” said Harvath. “For them not to invade anywhere. For them to be contained.”
“But that is not my job. That’s the job of the Swedish military, the government.”
“Have you seen their plan to protect Gotland?”
“No,” said Nyström. “I have only heard about it.”
“I’ve actually seen it,” said Harvath. “In fact, the entire American military has seen it and we have been begging Sweden to change it. Their plan is to wait for help, to wait for NATO to come and liberate Gotland.”
“I have always heard they would bring in more troops from the mainland.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, by boat I guess, or by air.”
“Russian submarines and Russian fighter jets will make sure those troops never arrive,” Harvath remarked. “This island is too important to them. If it’s worth invading, which it very much is to them, then it’s worth defending. I guarantee you, Sweden will only risk so much to take it back. They will decide it is better to wait for help.
“And during that time, what do you think will happen? What will happen to you and your fellow police officers? What will happen to the people of Gotland, to the business owners like your uncle? What will happen to them if they do not comply with the Russian occupiers?”
The Chief Inspector didn’t need to think about what would happen. He already knew. European history was all too clear on that subject. Sweden had dodged the horrors of Nazi attack and occupation, but only because it had declared itself neutral and had helped feed the Third Reich’s war machine by supplying it with much-needed iron ore, steel, and machine parts. It was an inconvenient truth if ever there was one.
“I still don’t understand what you want from me,” said Nyström.
“I want you to help me get Dominik Gashi—the cell leader.”
“I can’t do that.”
“What are you talking about?” Harvath replied. “You took an oath to protect this island.”
“I took an oath to uphold the law.”
Harvath shook his head.
“This needs to brought to the attention of the garrison commander,” Nyström continued. “This is a national security matter.”
“It’s bigger than that,” said Harvath. “It’s an international security matter. Do you know what happens if the military or the government gets involved? Dominik Gashi gets arrested. Then, he gets a lawyer. And at some point way in the future, he gets a trial. In the meantime, you saw what happened in Rome last night?”
“The bombing? Yes, it was terrible.”
“Well, that’s what Europe gets—attack after attack. Maybe even some right here in Sweden.
“I think you’re exaggerating,” said the Chief Inspector.
“I wish I was,” Harvath replied. “The fact is, the only link we have is Gashi.”
“How am I supposed to believe you? You lied to me. You told me you were here to meet Lars Lund to plan a pending military exercise.”
“Yeah, the most important exercise of all—the rescue of Gotland. That’s why I’m here. And no, I didn’t lie to you. As part of my assignment, I was supposed to figure out how to prevent a rescue from even being necessary. That’s why I was looking for Staffan Sparrman. If we could locate and identify the Russian cell, our job was to break it up.
“Then we were to take whatever we had learned and climb the ladder, go after the people on the next level. My job is to prevent a war. We’re trying to stop the Russians before they can launch any invasion. But make no mistake, they’re coming for Gotland.
“Now, maybe the Swedish military can repel their attack. I don’t know. Maybe Gotland can hold out until NATO comes to its rescue. But no matter what, people on your island, people you have sworn to protect, are going to die. I don’t want that to happen. I know you don’t want that to happen. And it doesn’t have to happen—if we can get to Dominik Gashi.”
The Chief Inspector put his fingers beneath his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He then walked away from the patrol car in order to think.
Harvath watched as the man, torn, paced slowly up and down in the wrecking yard.
There were only two potential outcomes. Either Nyström was going to help, or he wasn’t. Harvath hoped he chose Option A, because if the man chose Option B, it was going to get very bad, very quickly.
Leaning against the car, Harvath watched as his breath turned to steam and rose into the night air. His Sig Sauer was tucked in his jeans at the small of his back, and the Taser—with a brand-new cartridge—was in his left coat pocket.
Finally, the Chief Inspector came back over. “If I help you,” he said, “I want the information about every single person in that cell, especially the locals.”
“Done,” said Harvath.
“And,” Nyström added, “whatever it is you need, it can’t appear to have any official police sanction, and it absolutely cannot appear to have come from me.”
Harvath understood the man’s position, but his conditions were going to be a lot easier said than done—especially with what Harvath had in mind.
CHAPTER 46
* * *
The FörsPak processing plant was a half hour north of Visby and just inland from the coast. Its owner had been born and raised on the island. He had spent his entire life there, except for a two-year period while serving in the Swedish military.
What had intrigued Harvath the most about him, though, was that a quick scan of Facebook revealed him to be a member of the Gotland Runners Club. Not only did Nyström know Martin Ingesson, but they were also friends. It was, the Chief Inspector admitted again, “a small island.”
Trying to hew as close to Nyström’s conditions as possible, Harvath had suggested that the Chief Inspector characterize their middle-of-the-night visit to Ingesson as personal. “Friends don’t wake friends up in the middle of the night,” was the man’s response.
When they arrived at his home, the lights were on and Ingesson was up waiting for them. Hearing the car pull into the drive, he met them at the front door.
Martin Ingesson looked like a Viking. He was at least six-foot-four with blue eyes, blond hair, and a big blond beard. His chest and arms were twice the size of Harvath’s. The man could have passed for a competitor in the World’s Strongest Man contest. It wouldn’t have surprised Harvath in the least if he spent his lunch breaks dragging truck tires around a parking lot.