Girl Who Played with Fire, The - Stieg Larsson [212]
“He risked attracting serious attention to himself. That doesn’t sound very professional.”
“That was the way he was. He hadn’t committed any crime in Sweden and was never arrested. We had provided him with a Swedish name, a Swedish passport and ID. And he had a house that the Security Police paid for. He received a salary from Säpo just to keep him available. But we couldn’t prevent him from going to bars or from womanizing. All we could do was clean up after him. That was my job until 1985 when I got a new post and my successor took over as Zalachenko’s handler.”
“And Bjurman’s role?”
“To be honest, Bjurman was deadweight. He wasn’t particularly clever. In fact he was the wrong man in the wrong job. It was pure chance that he was part of the whole Zalachenko business at all, and he was only involved in the very early days and on the occasions when we needed him to deal with legal formalities. My superior solved the problem with Bjurman.”
“How?”
“The easiest possible way. He was given a job outside the police force at a law firm that had, as you might say, close ties to us.”
“Klang and Reine.”
Björck gave Mikael a sharp look.
“Yes. Over the years he always had assignments, minor investigations, from Säpo. So in a way he too built his career on Zalachenko.”
“Where is Zalachenko today?”
“I really don’t know. My contact with him dried up after 1985, and I haven’t seen him in over twelve years. The last I heard, he left Sweden in 1992.”
“Apparently he’s back. He’s cropped up in connection with weapons, drugs, and sex trafficking.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Björck said. “But we can’t know for sure if it’s the Zala you’re looking for or somebody else.”
“The likelihood of two separate Zalachenkos appearing in this story must be microscopic. What was his Swedish name?”
“I’m not going to reveal that.”
“Now you’re being evasive.”
“You wanted to know who Zala was. I’ve told you. But I won’t give you the last piece of the puzzle before I know you’ve kept your side of the bargain.”
“Zala has probably committed three murders and the police are looking for the wrong person. If you think I’ll be satisfied without his name, you’re mistaken.”
“What makes you think Lisbeth Salander isn’t the murderer?”
“I know.”
Björck smiled at Blomkvist. He suddenly felt much safer.
“I think Zala is the killer,” Blomkvist said.
“Wrong. Zala hasn’t shot anyone.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because Zala is sixty-plus years old now and severely disabled. He’s had a foot amputated and doesn’t do much walking. So he hasn’t been running around Odenplan and Enskede shooting people. If he was going to murder somebody, he’d have to call the disabled transport service.”
Eriksson smiled politely at Modig. “You’ll have to ask Mikael about that.”
“OK, I will.”
“I can’t discuss his research with you.”
“And if this Zala is a potential suspect…”
“You’ll have to discuss that with Mikael,” Eriksson said. “I can help you with what Dag was working on, but I can’t tell you about our own research.”
Modig sighed. “What can you tell me about the people on this list?”
“Only what Dag wrote, nothing about the sources. But I can say that Mikael has crossed about a dozen people off this list so far. That might help.”
No, that won’t help. The police will have to do their own formal interviews. A judge. Two lawyers. Several politicians and journalists… and police colleagues. A real merry-go-round. Modig knew that they should have started doing this the day after the murders.
Her eyes lighted on one name on the list. Gunnar Björck.
“There’s no address for this man.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He works for the Security Police. His address is unlisted. Actually he’s on sick leave. Dag was never able to track him down.”
“And have you?” Modig said with a smile.
“Ask Mikael.”
Modig stared at the wall above Svensson’s desk. She was thinking. “May I ask a personal question?”
“Go right ahead.”
“Who do you think murdered your friends and the lawyer?”
Eriksson wished Blomkvist were here to handle these questions. It was uncomfortable to be quizzed by a