Figuerola closed her mobile and put it on the bedside table. She looked up and studied Blomkvist as he lay naked with his head against the foot of the bed.
"I'm to call you and tell you to beef up security at Millennium," she said.
"Thanks for the suggestion," he said wryly.
"I'm serious. If they start to smell a rat, there's a danger that they'll go and do something without thinking. They might break in."
"Henry's sleeping there tonight. And we have a burglar alarm that goes straight to Milton Security, three minutes away."
He lay in silence with his eyes shut.
"Paranoid," he muttered.
CHAPTER 24
MONDAY, 11.VII
It was 6.00 on Monday morning when Linder from Milton Security called Blomkvist on his T10.
"Don't you people ever rest?" Blomkvist said, drunk with sleep.
He glanced at Figuerola. She was up already and had changed into jogging shorts, but had not yet put on her T-shirt.
"Sure. But the night duty officer woke me. The silent alarm we installed at your apartment went off at 3.00."
"Did it?"
"I drove down to see what was going on. This is a bit tricky. Could you come to Milton this morning? As soon as possible, that is."
"This is serious," Armansky said.
It was just after 8.00 when Armansky, Blomkvist and Linder were gathered in front of a T.V. monitor in a conference room at Milton Security. Armansky had also called in Johan Fraklund, a retired criminal inspector in the Solna police, now chief of Milton's operations unit, and the former inspector Sonny Bohman, who had been involved in the Salander affair from the start. They were pondering the surveillance video that Linder had just shown them.
"What we see here is Sapo officer Jonas Sandberg opening the door to Mikael's apartment at 3.17. He has his own keys. You will recall that Faulsson the locksmith made copies of the spare set when he and Goran Mårtensson broke in several weeks ago."
Armansky nodded sternly.
"Sandberg is in the apartment for approximately eight minutes. During that time he does the following things. First, he takes a small plastic bag from the kitchen, which he fills. Then he unscrews the back plate of a loudspeaker which you have in the living room, Mikael. That's where he places the bag. The fact that he takes a bag from your kitchen is significant."
"It's a Konsum bag," Blomkvist said. "I save them to put cheese and stuff in."
"I do the same. What matters, of course, is that the bag has your fingerprints on it. Then he takes a copy of S.M.P. from the recycling bin in the hall. He tears off a page to wrap up an object which he puts on the top shelf of your wardrobe. Same thing there: the paper has your fingerprints on it."
"I get you," Blomkvist said.
"I drive to your apartment at around 5.00," Linder said. "I find the following items: in your loudspeaker there are now approximately 180 grams of cocaine. I've taken a sample which I have here."
She put a small evidence bag on the conference table.
"What's in the wardrobe?" Blomkvist said.
"About 120,000 kronor in cash."
Armansky motioned to Linder to turn off the T.V. He turned to Fraklund.
"So Mikael Blomkvist is involved in cocaine dealing," Fraklund said good-naturedly. "Apparently they've started to get a little worried about what Blomkvist is working on."
"This is a counter-move," Blomkvist said.
"A counter-move to what?"
"They ran into Milton's security patrol in Morgongåva last night."
He told them what he had heard from Figuerola about Sandberg's expedition to the printing factory.
"That busy little rascal," Bohman said.
"But why now?"
"They must be nervous about what Millennium might publish when the trial starts," Fraklund said. "If Blomkvist is arrested for dealing cocaine, his credibility will drop dramatically."
Linder nodded. Blomkvist looked sceptical.
"How are we going to handle this?" Armansky said.
"We should do nothing," Fraklund said. "We hold all the cards. We have crystal-clear evidence of Sandberg planting the stuff in your apartment. Let them spring the trap. We can prove your innocence in a second, and besides, this will be further proof of the Section's criminal activities. I would so love to be prosecutor when those guys are brought to trial."
"I don't know," Blomkvist said slowly. "The trial starts the day after tomorrow. The magazine is on the stands on Friday, day three of the trial. If they plan to frame me for dealing cocaine, I'll never have the time to explain how it happened before the magazine comes out. I risk sitting in prison and missing the beginning of the trial."
"So, all the more reason for you to stay out of sight this week," Armansky said.
"Well... I have to work with T.V.4 and I've got a number of other things to do. It would be enormously inconvenient - "
"Why right now?" Linder said suddenly.
"How do you mean?" Armansky said.
"They've had three months to smear Blomkvist. Why do it right now? Whatever happens they're not going to be able to prevent publication."
They all sat in silence for a moment.
"It might be because they don't have a clue what you're going to publish, Mikael," Armansky said. "They have to suppose that you have something in the offing... but they might think all you have is Bjorck's report. They have no reason to know that you're planning on rolling up the whole Section. If it's only about Bjorck's report, then it's certainly enough to blacken your reputation. Any revelations you might come up with would be drowned out when you're arrested and charged. Big scandal. The famous Mikael Blomkvist arrested on a drugs charge. Six to eight years in prison."
"Could I have two copies of the video?" Blomkvist said.
"What are you going to do with them?"
"Lodge one copy with Edklinth. And in three hours I'm going to be at T.V.4. I think it would be prudent to have this ready to run on T.V. if or when all hell breaks loose."
Figuerola turned off the D.V.D. player and put the remote on the table. They were meeting in the temporary office on Fridhemsplan.
"Cocaine," Edklinth said. "They're playing a very dirty game here."
Figuerola looked thoughtful. She glanced at Blomkvist.
"I thought it best to keep all of you up to date," he said with a shrug.
"I don't like this," Figuerola said. "It implies a recklessness. Someone hasn't really thought this through. They must realize that you wouldn't go quietly and let yourself be thrown into Kumla bunker under arrest on a drugs charge."
"I agree," Blomkvist said.
"Even if you were convicted, there's still a strong likelihood that people would believe what you have to say. And your colleagues at Millennium wouldn't keep quiet either."
"Furthermore, this is costing them a great deal," Edklinth said. "They have a budget that allows them to distribute 120,000 kronor here and there without blinking, plus whatever the cocaine costs them."
"I know, but the plan is actually not bad," Blomkvist said. "They're counting on Salander landing back in the asylum while I disappear in a cloud of suspicion. They're also assuming that any attention would be focused on Sapo - not on the Section."
"But how are they going to convince the drug squad to search your apartment? I mean, an anonymous tip will hardly be enough for someone to kick in the door of a star journalist. And if this is going to work, suspicion would have to be cast on you within forty-eight hours."
"Well, we don't really know anything about their schedule," Blomkvist said.
He felt exhausted and longed for all this to be over. He got up.
"Where are you off to?" Figuerola said. "I'd like to know where you're going to be for the next few days."
"I have a meeting with T.V.4 at lunchtime. And at 6.00 I'm going to catch up with Erika Berger over a lamb stew at Samir's. We're going to fine-tune the press release. The rest of the afternoon and evening I'll be at Millennium, I imagine."
Figuerola's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Berger.
"I need you to stay in touch during the day. I'd prefer it if you stayed in close contact until the trial starts."
"Maybe I could move in with you for a few days," Blomkvist said with a playful smile.
Figuerola's face darkened. She cast a hasty glance at Edklinth.
"Monica's right," Edklinth said. "I think it would be best if you stay more or less out of sight for the time being."
"You take care of your end," Blomkvist said, "and I'll take care of mine."
The presenter of She on T.V.4 could hardly conceal her excitement over the video material that Blomkvist had delivered. Blomkvist was amused at her undisguised glee. For a week they had worked like dogs to put together coherent material about the Section that they could use on T.V. Her producer and the news editor at T.V.4 were in no doubt as to what a scoop the story would be. It was being produced in the utmost secrecy, with only a very few people involved. They had agreed to Blomkvist's insistence that the story be the lead on the evening of the third day of the trial. They had decided to do an hour-long news special.
Blomkvist had given her a quantity of still photographs to work with, but on television nothing compares to the moving image. She was simply delighted when he showed her the video - in razor-sharp definition - of an identifiable police officer planting cocaine in his apartment.
"This is great T.V.," she said. "Camera shot: Here is Sapo planting cocaine in the reporter's apartment."
"Not Sapo... the Section," Blomkvist corrected her. "Don't make the mistake of muddling the two."
"Sandberg works for Sapo, for God's sake," she said.
"Sure, but in practice he should be regarded as an infiltrator. Keep the boundary line very clear."
"Understood. It's the Section that's the story here. Not Sapo. Mikael, can you explain to me how it is that you keep getting mixed up in these sensational stories? And you're right. This is going to be bigger than the Wennerstrom affair."
"Sheer talent, I guess. Ironically enough this story also begins with a Wennerstrom. The spy scandal of the '60s, that is."
Berger called at 4.00. She was in a meeting with the newspaper publishers' association sharing her views on the planned cutbacks at S.M.P., which had given rise to a major conflict in the industry after she had resigned. She would not be able to make it to their dinner before 6.30.
Sandberg helped Clinton move from the wheelchair to the daybed in the room that was his command centre in the Section's headquarters on Artillerigatan. Clinton had just returned from a whole morning spent in dialysis. He felt ancient, infinitely weary. He had hardly slept the past few days and wished that all this would soon come to an end. He had managed to make himself comfortable, sitting up in the bed, when Nystrom appeared.
Clinton concentrated his energy. "Is it ready?"
"I've just come from a meeting with the Nikolich brothers," Nystrom said. "It's going to cost 50,000."
"We can afford it," Clinton said.
Christ, if only I were young again.
He turned his head and studied Nystrom and Sandberg in turn.
"No qualms of conscience?" he said.
They shook their heads.
"When?" Clinton said.
"Within twenty-four hours," Nystrom said. "It's difficult to pin down where Blomkvist is staying, but if the worst comes to the worst they'll do it outside Millennium's offices."
"We have a possible opportunity tonight, two hours from now," said Sandberg.
"Oh, really?"
"Erika Berger called him a while ago. They're going to have dinner at Samir's Cauldron. It's a restaurant near Bellmansgatan."
"Berger..." Clinton said hesitantly.
"I hope for God's sake that she doesn't - " Nystrom said.
"That wouldn't be the end of the world," Sandberg said.
Clinton and Nystrom both stared at him.
"We're agreed that Blomkvist is our greatest threat, and that he's going to publish something damaging in the next issue of Millennium. We can't prevent publication, so we have to destroy his credibility. If he's killed in what appears to be a typical underworld hit and the police then find drugs and cash in his apartment, the investigators will draw certain conclusions. They won't initially be looking for conspiracies involving the Security Police."
"Go on," Clinton said.
"Erika Berger is actually Blomkvist's lover," Sandberg said with some force. "She's unfaithful to her husband. If she too were to be a victim, that would lead to further speculation."
Clinton and Nystrom exchanged glances. Sandberg had a natural talent when it came to creating smokescreens. He learned fast. But Clinton and Nystrom felt a surge of anxiety. Sandberg was too cavalier about life-and-death decisions. That was not good. Extreme measures were not to be employed just because an opportunity had presented itself. Murder was no easy solution; it should be resorted to only when there was no alternative.
Clinton shook his head.
Collateral damage, he thought. He suddenly felt disgust for the whole operation.
After a lifetime in service to the nation, here we sit like primitive mercenaries. Zalachenko was necessary. Bjorck was... regrettable, but Gullberg was right: Bjorck would have caved in. Blomkvist is... possibly necessary. But Erika Berger could only be an innocent bystander.
