for one."
Erlander sighed. So, a madman. A fanatic.
"This morning Sapo got calls from several newspapers who had received letters from Gullberg. The Ministry of Justice also called, because Gullberg had made specific death threats against Karl Axel Bodin."
"I want copies of the letters."
"From Sapo?"
"Yes, damn it. Drive up to Stockholm and pick them up in person if necessary. I want them on my desk when I get back to H.Q. Which will be in about an hour."
He thought for a second and then asked one more question.
"Was it Sapo that called you?"
"That's what I told you."
"I mean... they called you, not vice versa?"
"Exactly."
Erlander closed his mobile.
He wondered what had got into Sapo to make them, out of the blue, feel the need to get in touch with the police - of their own accord. Ordinarily you couldn't get a word out of them.
Wadensjoo flung open the door to the room at the Section where Clinton was resting. Clinton sat up cautiously.
"Just what the bloody hell is going on?" Wadensjoo shrieked. "Gullberg has murdered Zalachenko and then shot himself in the head."
"I know," Clinton said.
"You know?" Wadensjoo yelled. He was bright red in the face and looked as if he was about to have a stroke. "He shot himself, for Christ's sake. He tried to commit suicide. Is he out of his mind?"
"You mean he's alive?"
"For the time being, yes, but he has massive brain damage."
Clinton sighed. "Such a shame," he said with real sorrow in his voice.
"Shame?" Wadensjoo burst out. "Gullberg is out of his mind. Don't you understand what - "
Clinton cut him off.
"Gullberg has cancer of the stomach, colon and bladder. He's been dying for several months, and in the best case he had only a few months left."
"Cancer?"
"He's been carrying that gun around for the past six months, determined to use it as soon as the pain became unbearable and before the disease turned him into a vegetable. But he was able to do one last favour for the Section. He went out in grand style."
Wadensjoo was almost beside himself. "You knew? You knew that he was thinking of killing Zalachenko?"
"Naturally. His assignment was to make sure that Zalachenko never got a chance to talk. And as you know, you couldn't threaten or reason with that man."
"But don't you understand what a scandal this could turn into? Are you just as barmy as Gullberg?"
Clinton got to his feet laboriously. He looked Wadensjoo in the eye and handed him a stack of fax copies.
"It was an operational decision. I mourn for my friend, but I'll probably be following him pretty soon. As far as a scandal goes... A retired tax lawyer wrote paranoid letters to newspapers, the police, and the Ministry of Justice. Here's a sample of them. Gullberg blames Zalachenko for everything from the Palme assassination to trying to poison the Swedish people with chlorine. The letters are plainly the work of a lunatic and were illegible in places, with capital letters, underlining, and exclamation marks. I especially like the way he wrote in the margin."
Wadensjoo read the letters with rising astonishment. He put a hand to his brow.
Clinton said: "Whatever happens, Zalachenko's death will have nothing to do with the Section. It was just some demented pensioner who fired the shots." He paused. "The important thing is that, starting from now, you have to get on board with the program. And don't rock the boat." He fixed his gaze on Wadensjoo. There was steel in the sick man's eyes. "What you have to understand is that the Section functions as the spear head for the total defence of the nation. We're Sweden's last line of defence. Our job is to watch over the security of our country. Everything else is unimportant."
Wadensjoo regarded Clinton with doubt in his eyes.
"We're the ones who don't exist," Clinton went on. "We're the ones nobody will ever thank. We're the ones who have to make the decisions that nobody else wants to make. Least of all the politicians." His voice quivered with contempt as he spoke those last words. "Do as I say and the Section might survive. For that to happen, we have to be decisive and resort to tough measures."
Wadensjoo felt the panic rise.
Cortez wrote feverishly, trying to get down every word that was said from the podium at the police press office at Kungsholmen. Prosecutor Ekstrom had begun. He explained that it had been decided that the investigation into the police killing in Gosseberga