Spymaster

CHAPTER 27

Based on the circumstances, Harvath was forced to unpack a lot more information for Nyström than he had intended. But to his credit, the Chief Inspector listened well, asked intelligent questions, and was forthright with information.

Staffan Sparrman was in his late twenties and was known to have flirted with socialism while at university in Uppsala and for a short time afterward. This being Sweden, though, that didn’t mean much. Sweden was known as an extremely liberal country. And by all accounts, Sparrman had drifted away from politics.

In fact, the man had become so apolitical that he even refused to work on his mother’s campaign for Governor. It was quite the scuttlebutt at the time and resulted in continuing tension between them.

Sparrman, instead, occupied himself with the management of the family farm left by his maternal grandparents. His father, who divorced his mother when he was a teen, lived back on the mainland. They did not have a very good relationship either.

As if to add emphasis to his certitude that Sparrman had abandoned any affinity for socialism or communism, Nyström pointed to the fact that the young man even imported cheap farm labor from Eastern Europe, rather than hire — and pay — local Swedes.

With each point he made, the Chief Inspector was only convincing Harvath that he had the right guy. Sparrman fit the profile of a Russian espionage recruit to a T.

Yet, with all that Nyström had shared with him, there was one piece of information that he wouldn’t give up — where Harvath could find Staffan Sparrman.

“I think it would be better if I go out and speak to him alone,” said the Chief Inspector.

“And tell him what? That some American just landed and he’s got a bunch of questions?”

“I’ll be a bit more subtle than that.”

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 Sparrman is working for the Russians, and if he is connected 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?”

“So far,” the young man stated.

“I can see that. Are you being paid to monitor your Instagram account or the hospital’s closed-circuit cameras?”

Lucas hung his head. He had already failed the police entrance exam once. All he wanted to do was to become a cop. Now he had been caught shirking his professional responsibilities by an officer from the same department he wanted to join.

He was convinced he had blown any chance of being hired until Officer Johansson said, “Never mind. I need a favor.”

“Certainly. What is it?”

Pulling a portable drive from his uniform pocket, the tall man handed it to the young security guard and said, “I need all your footage from the last hour.”

“Why?” the guard asked, as he accepted the drive, found a cable, and attached it to his system. “Are you looking for someone?”

Obviously I’m looking for someone, thought Officer Johansson. Goodness, this kid was a moron. How he’d even been hired by the hospital was beyond him.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” Johansson said, ignoring his question.

“How is it out on the street tonight?” asked the guard as he tapped several keys on his keyboard and isolated the footage the policeman had requested.

“Can I trust you to keep this between us?” the officer replied, as the footage began to download.

“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

“We’re hunting a jewel thief.”

“A jewel thief? In Visby?” the eager security guard asked, as the download neared completion. “Did you think he came here? To the hospital?”

“What do you think?”

The young man paused for a moment, thinking, and then replied, “Of course! That’s why you’re here.”

“You’re going to make an excellent police officer one day, Lucas. You have a real nose for it. How much longer on the download?”

“Done!” the guard exclaimed, unplugging the device and handing it back to Officer Johansson.

“When’s the next exam?” the cop asked.

“Two months.”

“Are you ready?”

The guard grimaced.

“Keep studying,” advised Johansson.

“I will sir.”

“Good.”

When the officer got to the door, he turned and addressed the young man one last time. “A patient’s car was broken into in the parking lot tonight. Her bracelet was stolen. If you see or hear anything about our jewel thief, let us know.”

And with that, Johansson left the security office and exited the hospital. He’d have to wait until his shift was over and he could establish a secure connection, but he had no doubt that his handler and Moscow were going to appreciate having video footage of the American.