Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [115]
“You’re a police officer in a democracy. If you have information to that effect you should take action.”
Bublanski nodded. “I’m thinking of doing just that. The question is, how?”
“Tell me what you want to know.”
“I want to know what you and Blomkvist are up to. I assume you’re not just sitting there twiddling your thumbs.”
“It’s complicated. How do I know I can trust you?”
“There’s a report from 1991 that Blomkvist discovered …”
“I know about it.”
“I no longer have access to the report.”
“Nor do I. The copies that Blomkvist and his sister – now Salander’s lawyer – had in their possession have both disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Blomkvist’s copy was taken during a break-in at his apartment, and Giannini’s was stolen when she was mugged, punched to the ground in Göteborg. All this happened on the day Zalachenko was murdered.”
Bublanski said nothing for a long while.
“Why haven’t we heard anything about this?”
“Blomkvist put it like this: there’s only one right time to publish a story, and an endless number of wrong times.”
“But you two … he’ll publish it?”
Armansky gave a curt nod.
“A nasty attack in Göteborg and a break-in here in Stockholm. On the same day,” Bublanski said. “That means that our adversary is well organized.”
“I should probably also mention that we know Giannini’s telephone is tapped.”
“A whole bunch of crimes.”
“The question is, whose?”
“That’s what I’m wondering. Most likely it’s Säpo – they would have an interest in suppressing Björck’s report. But Dragan … we’re talking about the Swedish Security Police, a government agency. I can’t believe this would be something sanctioned by Säpo. I don’t even believe Säpo has the expertise to do anything like this.”
“I’m having trouble digesting it myself. Not to mention that someone else saunters into Sahlgrenska and blows Zalachenko’s head off. And at the same time, Gunnar Björck, author of the report, hangs himself.”
“So you think there’s a single hand behind all this? I know Inspector Erlander, who did the investigation in Göteborg. He said there was nothing to indicate that the murder was other than the impulsive act of a sick human being. And we did a thorough investigation of Björck’s place. Everything points towards a suicide.”
“Gullberg, seventy-eight years old, suffering from cancer, recently treated for depression. Our operations chief Johan Fräklund has been looking into his background.”
“And?”
“He did his military service in Karlskrona in the ’40s, studied law and eventually became a tax adviser. Had an office here in Stockholm for thirty years: low profile, private clients … whoever they might have been. Retired in 1991. Moved back to his home town of Laholm in 1994. Unremarkable, except—”
“Except what?”
“Except for one or two surprising details. Fräklund cannot find a single reference to Gullberg anywhere. He’s never referred to in any newspaper or trade journal, and there’s no-one who can tell us who his clients were. It’s as if he never actually existed in the professional world.”
“What are you saying?”
“Säpo is the obvious link. Zalachenko was a Soviet defector. Who else but Säpo would have taken charge of him? Then the question of a co-ordinated strategy to get Salander locked away in an institution. Now we have burglaries, muggings and telephone tapping. Personally I don’t think Säpo is behind this. Blomkvist calls them ‘the Zalachenko club’, a small group of dormant Cold-Warmongers who hide out in some dark corridor at Säpo.”
“So what should we do?” Bublanski said.
CHAPTER 12
Sunday, 15.v – Monday, 16.v
Superintendent Torsten Edklinth, Director of Constitutional Protection at the Security Police, slowly twirled his glass of red wine and listened attentively to the C.E.O. of Milton Security, who had called out of the blue and insisted on his coming to Sunday dinner at his place on Lidingö. Armansky’s wife Ritva had made a delicious casserole.