Page 45 of Spymaster

Harvath didn’t doubt it, but by the same token he didn’t like the idea of Nyström tipping his hand. “Why don’t we sit on this for a couple of days? Let my team surveil him while I gather some more information. SHAPE may want to involve the local garrison commander after all. There’s no rush here.”

The Chief Inspector shook his head. “I have a fatal car crash involving a member of the Swedish armed forces. I have a NATO representative telling me a member of the Gotland community is a person of interest, possibly connected somehow to a string of attacks on NATO diplomats, as well as members of Norwegian law enforcement and the Norwegian military. And oh, by the way, the person of interest is the son of the island’s Governor.

“I can’t help but move this forward. If I delay my investigation, it might look like I was giving Sparrman special treatment just because of who his mother is. I could lose my job over something like that.”

The man was in a tough spot, Harvath understood that, but there had to be some sort of an accommodation they could come to. “You have to do something, I agree. But does it have to be direct confrontation? Couldn’t you open up a separate investigation and place him under surveillance for a couple of days? Technically, that wouldn’t be a delay. You’d be gathering evidence and would be able to document everything.”

Nyström thought about that. “Technically, I suppose you are correct. There’s no evidence connecting Sparrman to the car accident. Your claim that he’s a person of interest in the anti-NATO attacks is new information, which, if we choose to pursue it, would constitute a new and separate investigation.”

“There you go,” said Harvath.

“But there’s just one thing,” said the Chief Inspector. “I report to a chain of command. We also have laws in Sweden regarding surveillance that must be followed.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I can’t do all of this in a bubble, by myself. I have to get permission.”

Harvath had been around law enforcement long enough to know that there were plenty of things that cops did without permission. He doubted it was any different in Sweden. “Listen,” he said, “I understand the position you’re in, but think about this. What if there is a Russian network here and Sparrman is the only link we have to it? If you go in and start asking him questions, who knows what could happen? He could run. Or, worse still, he could do what he’s supposed to do and report your visit to his handler. At that point, his handler will have a decision to make—pull Sparrman out, kill Sparrman, or kill you.”

Nyström grinned. “Are you trying to scare me?”

“I’m telling you the truth. And you should be scared. The Russians are brutal. Killing a police officer would be nothing for them.”

“How do we know they didn’t kill Lund and make it look like an accident?”

“That’s precisely it,” said Harvath. “We don’t know. That’s why you can’t go paying Staffan Sparrman any visits. Beyond what I’ve told you, you don’t have cause. If he’s half as smart as I think he is, his internal alarm bells are going to start going off if you show up asking questions for no apparent reason.

“I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but I am asking you, cop-to-cop, to not prevent me from doing mine. If Sparrmanisworking for the Russians, and if heisconnected to these anti-NATO attacks, we can use him to climb the ladder and dismantle the entire network. But first, we need to find out what he’s up to.”

Having laid out his case, Harvath took a breath and settled back into his seat. The ball was in the Chief Inspector’s court now.

“Building a proper case,” said Nyström, “takes time. How much time would you need to carry out your assignment?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Where the starting line is. I could move a lot faster if I knew where to find Staffan Sparrman.”

“And if you knew where Sparrman was, how much time would you need?”

“Forty-eight hours. Tops.”

Reaching across Harvath, the Chief Inspector opened his glove compartment and pulled out a pen and a pad of paper. He then drew a map of the island and identified the Sparrman farm.

Tearing the sheet from the notebook, he handed it to him. “Forty-eight hours,” said Nyström. “That’s as much as I can give you. Then I take over.”

•••

Across town, one of the two patrol officers who had met Harvath’s plane at Visby Airport used a side door to enter the hospital. Avoiding the intake desk at the emergency room, he made his way to a stairwell and headed down to the basement.

There, he walked past the morgue to the hospital security office. The door was unlocked, and opening it, he stepped inside.

Sitting in front of a bank of monitors, glued to his iPhone, was the sole security guard in the office.

Looking up and seeing his visitor, he immediately pocketed his phone and stood, almost at attention. “Officer Johansson,” he said. “Good evening.”

“Good evening, Lucas,” the officer replied. “Quiet night?”

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