"Not yet, but it's only a question of time. What do you want us to do?"
"Stephanie found a call on that phone you discovered that went to a man named Bergstrom. She checked him out. He's a Chief Superintendent in the national police, stationed in Stockholm."
"Knowing a high ranking cop could come in handy if you were smuggling things into the country."
"It can't be a coincidence. Bergstrom has to be involved. You have to let the Swedes handle it."
"What if they decide to cover it up? They're certain to handle it internally but they might not want us to know about it."
"I'm not willing to ignore the connection," Elizabeth said. "Bergstrom is probably the man who sets up the exchange with the end buyers. We need to know who they are. He's not the buyer, he couldn't afford it on a cop's salary."
"What do you want me to do?"
"If they tell you what's on the phone, leave it alone. If they don't, I want you to pursue it. You won't have much time. They'll be embarrassed by discovering one of their own is involved. They'll tell you to leave and I won't be able to keep you there."
"I need information on Bergstrom."
"Steph is putting something together now. She'll send it to you in a few minutes."
"We're headed over to KSI in a few minutes," Nick said. "If they're going to come clean, it will be then."
"Good. Then you'll know where you stand. Keep me informed."
Harker broke the connection.
"What did she say?" Lamont asked.
Nick told them what Elizabeth had said about Bergstrom.
"So we're going to follow up on Bergstrom if the Swedes don't keep us in the loop?"
"That's about it. Steph is sending the info we need about him. It all depends on what happens at the meeting this morning."
The islands, lakes and waterways of Stockholm made the city an interesting and beautiful place. It had snowed the night before, but the morning was clear and sunny. The city looked like something out of a modern fairy tale.
Ronnie said, "Snow means water. Where I come from, water is a good thing."
"Sure is pretty out," Lamont said. "Makes me think of a Christmas card."
"It's a beautiful day," Selena said.
The good feeling evaporated inside KSI headquarters. Forsberg was in a bad mood. He was being called a closet Nazi and a fascist by the left-wing papers because of the raid on the refugee asylum.
Politics in Sweden wasn't much different than it was in America. When there was political capital to be made, the gloves came off. Control of the country's government was at stake in the upcoming election and the political rhetoric was heating up. The issue of immigration was tearing Sweden apart. The confrontation with Islamic militants at the asylum had thrown gasoline on a fire already burning out of control.
Forsberg was caught in the middle. Whenever things didn't go well for the politicians, someone had to pay. It wouldn't be them. Unless he was careful, it was going to be him.
"You've seen the papers?" he said.
Nick nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry you have to deal with this."
"It goes with the territory. If I do my job the right way, there's always some officious idiot that wants to criticize. Intelligence work and government oversight is a contrast in terms."
Selena laughed. "At least you broke up Hussein's operation. Have you found anything to connect it to ISIS?"
"Funny you should ask that."
Forsberg reached into his briefcase and pulled out a black flag with Arabic letters on it.
"We found this in his bedroom."
"No question whose flag that is," Nick said. "Those assholes have made sure it shows up on everyone's TV as often as possible."
"Hussein must've thought he was invulnerable to keep that around," Selena said.
"For all practical purposes, he was," Forsberg said. "The hands-off policy regarding Muslim immigrants has been in place for quite some time. Sweden has always been one of the most welcoming societies in the world. No one thought allowing refugees from war zones to enter would lead to this kind of chaos."
"What was Hussein planning to do with those weapons?" Nick asked.
"Attack polling stations throughout the country during the next election. We're still sorting through information recovered from the center."
"Was there anything on that phone I gave you?" Nick said. His voice was casual.
"No." Forsberg looked away. "Most of the calls were to a pizza parlor. There wasn't anything about what they were planning or about the smuggling operation."
"That's too bad. We were hoping to get a line on the buyers."
"We'll find out sooner or later," Forsberg said. "When we do, we'll let you know. In the meantime, I've been asked to convey the thanks of our government for your assistance. We'll forward everything we discover about ISIS to you when you're back in America."
"You're sending us home?"
"There's nothing left for you to do here, not in an official capacity. Why don't you take a day or two to enjoy Stockholm? I can recommend some excellent restaurants. Shopping is good, the museums are fascinating."
Selena said, "That sounds like a good idea." She turned to Nick. "Don't you think so?"
"Can you make us a list of those restaurants?" Nick said.
As they drove back to their hotel Lamont said, "They're kicking us out and that boy was lying in his teeth. I thought he was a straight shooter."
"It's not his fault," Nick said. "I got the feeling he wanted to tell us what was going on. Someone told him to keep quiet. The last thing he wants to do is make waves right now. The papers are looking for a sacrificial lamb and he'd be a good one. His only chance is to play by the rules."
"Just the same," Lamont said, "I'm kinda disappointed."
CHAPTER 15
Bergstrom was thinking about his dead wife. He poured ice cold vodka into a tumbler and downed it. If Emma were here, she would have helped him figure out what to do. If she were here, he'd never have gotten into this mess in the first place. He'd always talked about everything with her. She would have stopped him from becoming involved with those people. But she hadn't been there to help him think it through. Emma had died of cancer seven years before. The pain of her death was still with him.
Bergstrom could feel the doors closing. It was time to run.
He had a passport in a different name and enough cash in the safe for a ticket to somewhere far away. His credit cards were good but he wouldn't be able to use those once he left the country. Besides, he wouldn't need them. There was plenty of cash in the accounts in Andorra, more than enough to live comfortably someplace where extradition was difficult. Someplace warm, where a foreigner would be welcome as long as he had enough money to keep the natives happy.
Why did it have to turn out this way? Why did they have to kill Andersson? And then they had to show off, crucify him. They couldn't just dispose of the body. Fucking animals.
He poured another drink. He thought he heard a brief noise, then quickly forgot it.
I'll book a ticket for France with one of the cards. That will throw them off the trail for a little. Then, a quick change to a different look in the airport men's room, something simple. A different airline to South America. By the time they figure it out I'll be far away…
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Bergstrom got up, went to the door and looked through the spy hole. A dark-haired man stood there, someone he had never seen before.
"Who is it?"
"My name is Antonio Bellini, Signor Bergstrom. Count Mercurio sent me to speak with you. Please, may I come in?"
Bergstrom opened the door.
"Unless he's prepared to make a new offer, you have wasted your trip. But come in, it's cold out."