“You were his expedition doctor. That surprised us, in fact.”
“It surprised me too,” she said thoughtfully. “But I too had a crazy urge for adventure at the time. I’d been told about Grankin at a conference in Oslo.”
“We know.”
“So go on.”
“Grankin gave the impression of being very down to earth, didn’t he? Straightforward and uncomplicated. But he was, in fact, unbelievably intelligent and complex, a man of deep feeling. He was torn by divided loyalties—between his love of his country and his sense of honour and decency. In February 2008 we began to be fairly certain not only that he knew about Zalachenko’s double-dealing and his cooperation with the mafia, but also that he himself was in danger. That he was frightened of the GRU and in need of protection and new friends. That is what gave me the idea to send Johannes on his expedition to Everest. We thought that an adventure of that calibre would foster camaraderie and closeness.”
“Oh, my God,” she said again, turning to Johannes. “So you were there to recruit him to the West?”
“That was the dream scenario, of course,” Kowalski said.
“But what about Svante Lindberg?”
“Lindberg is the unhappy part of this story,” Kowalski said. “But we didn’t know that then. At the time, his recruitment seemed like a very reasonable request from Johannes. Of course, we would have preferred him to take one of our people instead. But Lindberg knew his Russia, had worked closely with Johannes at Must and, above all, he was an experienced climber. On the face of it he was the perfect companion. Luckily—and we’re very grateful for that now—we didn’t give him the full picture. He never found out my name, or even that it was more of a British than a Swedish operation.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said, as it all began to sink in. “So the whole expedition was an intelligence operation?”
“It turned into an awful lot more, my dear Rebecka. Johannes met you, after all. But yes…he went in the line of duty and we kept a very close eye on it.”
“That’s crazy. I had absolutely no idea.”
“I’m sorry that you should have to hear about it in these circumstances.”
“Well, how did it go?” she said. “I mean…before it all went wrong?”
Forsell shrugged, and once again it was Kowalski who answered.
“Johannes and I have a slightly different view on that. In my opinion, he did an excellent job. He managed to build trust and early on it looked promising. But it’s true that the situation grew more and more tense and we had to put a lot of pressure on Viktor. We took advantage of him at a critical stage, before the climb started. So yes, Johannes is probably right. There was too much at stake. But above all—”
“We were missing some crucial information,” Forsell said.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Kowalski said. “But how could we have known? Nobody in the West suspected it at the time, not even the FBI.”
“What are you talking about?” she said.
“Stan Engelman.”
“What about him?”
“He had been connected to Zvezda Bratva since he started to build hotels in Moscow in the nineties. Viktor was aware of this, but we were not.”
“How come he knew?”
“It was one of the things he had ferreted out in the course of his work at the GRU, but, as I said, double-dealing was part of his job so he pretended to be close to Stan. Secretly he thought he was despicable.”
“And stole his wife.”
“I think the romance was more of a bonus.”
“Or else it was the trigger factor,” Forsell said.
“Could you please speak in plain English?” Rebecka said.
“I think Johannes is saying that it was the love affair, and the things Klara told him, that prompted Viktor to act,” Kowalski said.
“Meaning?”
“If he wasn’t going to be able to squeeze his colleagues in the GRU, he could at least damage a massively corrupt American.”
CHAPTER 26
August 27
Sometimes Galinov would ask her: “What does he mean to you today? What are your thoughts about him?” Most of the time she did not answer, but once she said: “I remember feeling like I had been chosen,” and it really was true.
There had been a time when her father’s lies were the best thing in her life, and she was long convinced that it was she who wielded the power, that she enchanted him, and not the other way around. It was an illusion that was inevitably snatched from her and replaced by a gaping abyss. And yet…the memory of that special feeling lingered on, and sometimes she would forgive Zala the way you might forgive a wild animal. The only thing that never went away was her hatred of Lisbeth and Agneta, and now, lying in her bed on Strandvägen, she used it to brace herself, the way she had as a teenager, when she was forced to reinvent herself and create a new Camilla, free of all constraints.
The rain was beating down on Strandvägen. Sirens were howling and she could hear footsteps coming closer, rhythmic, confident footsteps. It was Galinov, and she got up and opened the door. He smiled at her. She knew that the two of them shared the hatred and the feeling of being special.
“We may have some encouraging news after all,” he said.
She did not answer.
“Not a big deal in itself,” he said, “but it could be an opening. The woman Blomkvist was seen with out at Sandhamn has just checked in to Hotel Lydmar.”
“And?”
“Well, she lives here in the city, doesn’t she? So why would she go to a hotel unless she wants to meet someone who’d rather not be seen at her place, or in their own home?”
“Such as Blomkvist?”
“Spot on.”
“What do you think we should do?”
Galinov ran his fingers through his hair.
“The location isn’t great. There are outdoor cafés and bars, and too many people around in the evening. But Sandström—”
“Is he being difficult?”
“No, no, on the contrary, I’ve got him toeing the line. He says he can have a car waiting around the corner, even the ambulance one of his minions had the bright idea to steal, and I—”
“And you, Ivan?”
“There may be a part for me to play too. It would appear that Blomkvist and I have a common concern, if Bogdanov is to be trusted.”