Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [195]
If something went wrong, that is. He sat down and looked at Figuerola.
“How did you find out about the meeting?”
“Blomkvist called me at around 4.00,” she said with a satisfied smile.
Edklinth turned to Blomkvist. “And how did you find out about the meeting?”
“Tipped off by a source.”
“Am I to conclude that you’re running some sort of surveillance on Teleborian?”
Figuerola shook her head. “That was my first thought too,” she said in a cheerful voice, as if Blomkvist were not in the room. “But it doesn’t add up. Even if somebody were following Teleborian for Blomkvist, that person could not have known in advance that he was on his way to meet Jonas Sandberg.”
“So … what else? Illegal tapping or something?” Edklinth said.
“I can assure you,” Blomkvist said to remind them that he was there in the room, “that I’m not conducting illegal eavesdropping on anyone. Be realistic. Illegal tapping is the domain of government authorities.”
Edklinth frowned. “So you aren’t going to tell us how you heard about the meeting?”
“I’ve already told you that I won’t. I was tipped off by a source. The source is protected. Why don’t we concentrate on what we’ve discovered?”
“I don’t like loose ends,” Edklinth said. “But O.K. What have you found out?”
“His name is Jonas Sandberg,” Figuerola said. “Trained as a navy frogman and then attended the police academy in the early ’90s. Worked first in Uppsala and then in Södertälje.”
“You’re from Uppsala.”
“Yes, but we missed each other by about a year. He was recruited by S.I.S. Counter-Espionage in 1998. Reassigned to a secret post abroad in 2000. According to our documents, he’s at the embassy in Madrid. I checked with the embassy. They have no record of a Jonas Sandberg on their staff.”
“Just like Mårtensson. Officially moved to a place where he doesn’t exist.”
“The chief of Secretariat is the only person who could make this sort of arrangement.”
“And in normal circumstances everything would be dismissed as muddled red tape. We’ve noticed it only because we’re specifically looking for it. And if anyone starts asking awkward questions, they’ll say it’s confidential or that it has something to do with terrorism.”
“There’s quite a bit of budget work to check up on.”
“The chief of Budget?”
“Maybe.”
“Anything else?”
“Sandberg lives in Sollentuna. He’s not married, but he has a child with a teacher in Södertälje. No black marks on his record. Licence for two handguns. Conscientious and a teetotaller. The only thing that doesn’t quite fit is that he seems to be an evangelical and was a member of the Word of Life in the ’90s.”
“Where did you find that out?”
“I had a word with my old chief in Uppsala. He remembers Sandberg quite well.”
“A Christian frogman with two weapons and offspring in Södertälje. More?”
“We only I.D.’d him about three hours ago. This is pretty fast work, you have to admit.”
“Fair enough. What do we know about the building on Artillerigatan?”
“Not a lot yet. Stefan went to chase someone up from the city building office. We have blueprints of the building. A housing association block since the 1890s. Six floors with a total of twenty-two apartments, plus eight apartments in a small building in the courtyard. I looked up the tenants, but didn’t find anything that stood out. Two of the people living in the building have police records.”
“Who are they?”
“Lindström on the second floor, sixty-three. Convicted of insurance fraud in the ’70s. Wittfelt on the fourth floor, forty-seven. Twice convicted for beating his ex-wife. Otherwise what sounds like a cross-section of middle-class Sweden. There’s one apartment that raises a question mark though.”
“What?”
“It’s on the top floor. Eleven rooms and apparently