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“I understand.”

If truth be told, Ekström did not entirely understand, but he did not want to seem very unclever by asking questions. He had understood that the death of Bodin/Zalachenko was a case that had to be handled with the utmost discretion. He had also understood that Nyström’s visit was off the record, although endorsed by the highest authorities within the Security Police.

“This is most assuredly a matter of life or death,” Nyström had said at their very first meeting. “As far as the Security Police are concerned, everything related to the Zalachenko case is Top Secret. I can tell you that he is a defector, a former agent of Soviet military intelligence, and a key player in the Russians’ offensive against western Europe in the ’70s.”

“That’s what Blomkvist at Millennium is evidently alleging.”

“And in this instance Blomkvist is quite correct. He’s a journalist who happened to stumble upon one of the most secret operations ever conducted by Swedish defence.”

“He’s going to publish the information.”

“Of course. He represents the media, with all the advantages and drawbacks. We live in a democracy and naturally we cannot influence what is written in the press. The problem in this case is that Blomkvist knows only a fraction of the truth about Zalachenko, and much of what he thinks he knows is wrong.”

“I see.”

“What Blomkvist doesn’t grasp is that if the truth about Zalachenko comes out, the Russians will swiftly identify our informants and sources in Russia. People who have risked their lives for democracy will be in danger of being killed.”

“But isn’t Russia a democracy now too? I mean, if this had been during the communist days—”

“That’s an illusion. This is about people who spied formerly within the Soviet Union – no regime in the world would stand for that, even if it happened many years ago. And a number of these sources are still active.”

No such agents existed, but Ekström could not know that. He was bound to take Nyström at his word. And he could not help feeling flattered that he was being given information – off the record, of course – that was among the most secret to be found in Sweden. He was slightly surprised that the Swedish Security Police had been able to penetrate the Russian military to the degree Nyström was describing, and he perfectly understood that this was, of course, information that absolutely could not be disseminated.

“When I was assigned to make contact with you, we did an extensive investigation of your background,” Nyström said.

The seduction always involved discovering someone’s weaknesses. Prosecutor Ekström’s weakness was his conviction as to his own importance. He was like everyone else, he appreciated flattery. The trick was to make him feel that he had been specially chosen.

“And we have been able to satisfy ourselves that you are a man who enjoys enormous respect within the police force … and of course in government circles.”

Ekström looked pleased. That unnamed individuals in government circles had great confidence in him implied that he could count on their gratitude if he played his cards right.

“Simply stated, my assignment is to provide you with background as necessary, and as discreetly as possible. You must understand how improbably complicated this story has become. For one thing, a preliminary investigation is under way, for which you bear the primary responsibility. No-one – not in the government or in the Security Police or anywhere else – can interfere in how you run this investigation. Your job is to ascertain the truth and bring the guilty parties to court. One of the most crucial functions in a democratic state.”

Ekström nodded.

“It would be a national catastrophe if the whole truth about Zalachenko were to leak out.”

“So what exactly is the purpose of your visit?”

“First, to make you aware of the sensitive nature of the situation. I don’t think Sweden has been in such an exposed position since the end of the Second World War. One might say that, to a certain extent, the fate of Sweden rests in your hands.”

“And