‘Yes.’
‘And you failed to pass on this information to us?’
‘We had no choice, and for that we apologise. We couldn’t risk a situation where Eden might find out that we know about her double game.’
‘But if you fired her, surely she must have realised that you knew?’
‘I don’t think so. She was actually fired for another mistake she made in the course of duty. It was serious enough to lead to her dismissal.’
‘And what was that about?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you.’
‘But you would still call her one of the very best?’
‘Yes.’
Buster tried to process the information.
‘Let me summarise what you’ve just said. Eden has been seen with suspected Mossad operatives. She has travelled to Israel on a number of occasions for reasons other than to spend time with her parents. She has not been confronted with this information, and has therefore not been given the opportunity to explain herself. So it could all be perfectly innocent, but we don’t know that.’
The head of MI5 smiled for the first time since the meeting had begun.
‘That could be true, of course. But personally, I’m convinced that Eden is playing a double game, which makes her a dangerous colleague.’
‘And what do you expect me to do now? I have to pass on what you’ve told me.’
‘Of course. Hopefully, you will be more successful than we were.’
‘Didn’t you give it to your counter-espionage team?’
‘Yes, but there wasn’t enough evidence. It would have cost too much to confront Eden with what we had until we could work out why Mossad would want to recruit one of our agents.’
An organisation like Mossad really didn’t need any particular reason, Buster thought. In his opinion, their Israeli colleagues were among the most ruthless in the world. Ruthless, but good.
The Englishman scratched his head.
‘We didn’t really give Eden much thought once she’d left us. After all, it was three years ago. She came to work for the police here in Sweden, didn’t she?’
Buster responded with a quiet yes. Eden Lundell had been regarded as one of the most strategic recruits for several decades within the police service. With a degree in international law from Cambridge and her background in MI5, she was an absolute dream. In addition she was a gifted linguist, and was fluent in Russian, French and Italian as well as English and Swedish. She had also completed two years’ military service in the British army. Buster knew that every intelligence service in Sweden had tried to recruit Eden when she arrived in Stockholm, but she had made it very clear that she wasn’t interested. She was tired of that closed, secretive world; she wanted to work within a more open environment. She had spent some time as a consultant within the Defence Department, but had found the work extremely boring. She had then moved to the National Bureau of Investigation, where she reorganised virtually every aspect of intelligence gathering before she left.
Buster recalled what the head of the NCU had said when he was asked to provide a reference:
‘Eden is no ordinary woman – she’s a force of nature. And I’ll never forgive you if you recruit her.’
They hadn’t spoken since.
The mere thought that a suspected Israeli agent had been the architect behind the most sweeping reorganisation of the National Bureau of Investigation in twenty years… Buster could taste the fear. This was the worst possible news.
‘Anyway,’ the head of MI5 said. ‘I’ve done what I came to do. I don’t care what you do with the information. And let me reiterate how sorry I am that I didn’t say anything before. I’m actually in Stockholm on another matter, but when I heard about the hijacking I realised that we couldn’t keep quiet any longer.’
He took a folder out of his briefcase and handed it to Buster.
‘Pictures of Eden’s contacts and the information we have on them. Not a great deal, as you can see.’
‘How have these Israeli operatives been behaving since Eden left the UK? Have they approached any of your other employees?’
‘Not as far as we’re aware. And believe me, we’ve been keeping a close eye on them since we found out about them.’
The fact that the Israelis hadn’t turned to anyone else in Eden’s absence worried Buster. Did that mean she was irreplaceable?
Oh, Eden, my expectations of you were never anything less than unreasonable.
‘One of the operatives returned to Israel a year ago,’ the Englishman said. ‘We didn’t hear anything of him after that. Until yesterday.’
Buster gave a start.
‘Yesterday?’
‘We received new information indicating that he had returned to Europe.’
The head of MI5 took the folder out of Buster’s hands, opened it and removed a photograph, which he placed on the table.
‘Efraim Kiel. Forty-five years old, lived in the UK for four years, and prior to that in Spain for three years.’
‘And now?’
‘Now it’s exactly six hours since he entered Sweden. Who knows what he’s doing here?’
26 13:45
Neither of them spoke on the way back to Säpo. Eden Lundell walked fast, thinking about the mobile phone that Zakaria Khelifi insisted had belonged to someone else when Säpo linked it to their enquiries.
If the story about the phone was his alibi, why didn’t he just give them the name of the previous owner? Was it because he was lying, or because he was guilty, regardless of who the phone had belonged to?
Eden went straight to her office. There was a risk, or a chance, that Zakaria was both lying and telling the truth. He could be lying when he said that he didn’t remember when he had bought the phone or from whom, but he could be telling the truth when he said that it hadn’t belonged to him during 2009 and 2010. In which case, he was lying to protect someone. Someone he either loved or feared to the extent that he was prepared to risk imprisonment or deportation to Algeria rather than give that person’s name to the police. Or perhaps it was someone he sympathised with for other reasons.
Eden opened Zakaria’s file on the computer. Operation Paradise had reached its final phase by the time she took up her post; all she knew about it was what she had read or been told. According to Zakaria, he had parents and two sisters back in Algeria. A Swedish girlfriend in Stockholm – Maria. Eden remembered seeing the transcript of an interview with her. She had seemed sensible, and had answered the questions truthfully. But they had only been together for a year. Eden didn’t believe the phone had belonged to her, although she couldn’t be sure. Apart from his family in Algeria and his girlfriend in Sweden, there were few people who were close to Zakaria. He had two friends that he often hung out with; neither of them had ever been the subject of an investigation by Säpo. Could one of them have bought the phone, or sold it to Zakaria?
Eden twirled a strand of hair around her finger.
They had so little time.
In her mind’s eye she could see that bloody plane zooming through the sky, passing over oceans and continents, constantly moving on but with nowhere to go.
She called Sebastian.
‘Can you get someone to check the phone traffic to and from Zakaria’s mobile again?’
‘You mean one of my so-called Arabists?’
Eden suppressed a sigh. She couldn’t cope with an argument right now; she just didn’t have the patience.
‘I’m really sorry I said that.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
And that was the end of that. For the time being, at least.
‘We need lists of all his calls,’ she said. ‘Check the calls he made, and whether it looks as if there’s a change at some point, and he starts calling completely different people.’
She could hear Sebastian tapping away on his keyboard.
‘You believe him? You believe he didn’t own the phone before 2011, as he kept on saying?’