"Yes. I have to meet my husband and kids at the Sturegalleria in ten minutes. He thinks I'm still at work."
"And Bublanski knows nothing about this?"
"No."
"Right. You and your colleague are sources and you have complete source protection. Both of you. As long as you live."
"My colleague is Jerker Holmberg. You met him down in Goteborg. His father is a Centre Party member, and Jerker has known Prime Minister Falldin since he was a child. He seems to be pleasant enough. So Jerker went to see him and asked about Zalachenko."
Blomkvist's heart began to pound.
"Jerker asked what he knew about the defection, but Falldin didn't reply. When Holmberg told him that we suspect that Salander was locked up by the people who were protecting Zalachenko, well, that really upset him."
"Did he say how much he knew?"
"Falldin told him that the chief of Sapo at the time and a colleague came to visit him very soon after he became Prime Minister. They told a fantastic story about a Russian defector who had come to Sweden, told him that it was the most sensitive military secret Sweden possessed... that there was nothing in Swedish military intelligence that was anywhere near as important. Falldin said that he hadn't known how he should handle it, that there was no-one with much experience in government, the Social Democrats having been in power for more than forty years. He was advised that he alone had to make the decisions, and that if he discussed it with his government colleagues then Sapo would wash their hands of it. He remembered the whole thing as having been very unpleasant."
"What did he do?"
"He realized that he had no choice but to do what the gentlemen from Sapo were proposing. He issued a directive putting Sapo in sole charge of the defector. He undertook never to discuss the matter with anyone. Falldin was never told Zalachenko's name."
"Extraordinary."
"After that he heard almost nothing more during his two terms in office. But he had done something extremely shrewd. He had insisted that an Undersecretary of State be let in on the secret, in case there was a need for a go-between for the government secretariat and those who were protecting Zalachenko."
"Did he remember who it was?"
"It was Bertil K. Janeryd, now Swedish ambassador in the Hague. When it was explained to Falldin how serious this preliminary investigation was, he sat down and wrote to Janeryd."
Modig pushed an envelope across the table.
Dear Bertil,
The secret we both protected during my administration is now the subject of some very serious questions. The person referred to in the matter is now deceased and can no longer come to harm. On the other hand, other people can.
It is of the utmost importance that answers are provided to certain questions that must be answered.
The person who bears this letter is working unofficially and has my trust. I urge you to listen to his story and answer his questions.
Use your famous good judgement.
T.F.
"This letter is referring to Holmberg?"
"No. Jerker asked Falldin not to put a name. He said that he couldn't know who would be going to the Hague." "You mean..."
"Jerker and I have discussed it. We're already out on ice so thin that we'll need paddles rather than ice picks. We have no authority to travel to Holland to interview the ambassador. But you could do it."
Blomkvist folded the letter and was putting it into his jacket pocket when Modig grabbed his hand. Her grip was hard.
"Information for information," she said. "We want to hear everything Janeryd tells you."
Blomkvist nodded. Modig stood up.
"Hang on. You said that Falldin was visited by two people from Sapo. One was the chief of Sapo. Who was the other?"
"Falldin met him only on that one occasion and couldn't remember his name. No notes were taken at the meeting. He remembered him as thin with a narrow moustache. But he did recall that the man was introduced as the boss of the Section for Special Analysis, or something like that. Falldin later looked at an organizational chart of Sapo and couldn't find that department."
The Zalachenko club, Blomkvist thought.
Modig seemed to be weighing her words.
"At risk of ending up shot," she said at last, "there is one record that neither Falldin nor his visitors thought of."
"What was that?"
"Falldin's visitors' logbook at Rosenbad. Jerker requisitioned it. It's a public document."
"And?"
Modig hesitated once again. "The book states only that the Prime Minister met