“But there was a report from one of the local farmers,” said the officer who Cantrell had attacked first. He pressed his hand to his chest, massaging his sternum as he talked. “His Land Rover – an old Defender – was stolen in the early hours.”
“Taken from the farm?”
“Yes. And your man left the BMW there. Do you want to see it?”
Ansel shook his head. “Nah, that’s all right. Not necessary.” He looked at Hákon, and said, “Heard enough?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
Ansel thanked the officers but made no move to reward them with a tip. From the looks on the constables’ faces, Hákon thought they were relieved that the interview had been brief, and that they hadn’t received a reprimand. But it bothered him that they had driven so far for so little.
“So,” Ansel said, as they walked back to his car. “You’re wondering why I dragged you all the way out here, when they told us next to nothing.”
“I am wondering.”
“Well, here it is.” Ansel stopped at the car. He rested his arms on the roof, stifling a yawn as he glanced at the night sky. His breath misted the air in front of his face, but not enough to disguise the light in Ansel’s eyes.
A dangerous light, Hákon thought.
“It’s what you said before,” Ansel said. “Only, I had already thought about it. Cantrell is smart. He’ll know that if we put you in a box, that if he comes anywhere near it, he’s never getting out. So, we’re going to play on his anger, use his wild side against him.”
“And how are we going to do that?”
“The Spurring Group, or MI5 – whoever the fuck we are – we’re not the only ones keeping an eye on people. You can be sure Cantrell’s doing the same. He’s got his early warning systems linked to the places that are important to him.”
“Such as?”
“Edith Teal’s family home.” Ansel pointed to the east. “About ten miles that way.”
“Who lives there?”
“Teal’s parents. But right now they’re in Spain, grieving.”
“So the house is empty?”
“Until we get there, yes.”
Ansel unlocked the car and opened the driver’s door.
“Hang on,” Hákon said. “What are we going to do?”
“Make a house call.”
“Because you think he’ll know?”
“That’s right. And if he thinks we’re rooting about in his dead wife’s parents’ home. Well…” Ansel slapped the roof of the car. “I know what I would do if it was me.”
“You’re still using me as bait.”
“Absolutely. If he gets a whiff of you there… that’s the cherry on the cake.” Ansel paused as he caught the frown on Hákon’s face. “Hey, you agreed, mate.”
“Yes.”
“Having second thoughts?”
Hákon took a second, then shook his head. This, he determined, was necessary. If Cantrell was on a killing spree, spurred by a violent need to avenge his dead wife, then Hákon had to stop him – one way or another.
“I’ll need to make a call,” he said, opening the passenger door. “Before we get there.”
“Sure.” Ansel climbed in behind the wheel and waited for Hákon to get in. “I need to make a call too. It might not be a perfect trap, but we’re not going in without backup. Make your call. I’ll organise things my end. We’ll have it all set up by the afternoon. Then, maybe, we can get a couple of hours sleep before the fireworks start.”
“What about them?” Hákon nodded at the police station.
“Shit. Good point.” Ansel opened his door. “I’ll give them a vague heads up. Back in a minute.”
Hákon waited until Ansel got out of the car. He flicked through the list of contacts in his phone, clicked on the icon beside Etienne’s name, and waited as it dialled. He cursed, and ended the call, thinking that he had better decide on his story, as he realised that the last thing he had agreed with Etienne was that he was on sick leave, and that Byrne Cantrell was off limits and out of their jurisdiction. Hákon thought of his daughter, Íris, his sister, even his niece, Lára, and how Cantrell wouldn’t stop at Hákon’s death, at least, not if Hákon was still alive. Either way, whatever the outcome of Ansel’s plan, if Cantrell or Hákon died, then the Icelander’s family was safe.
“And that’s all I want,” Hákon whispered, as he redialled Etienne’s number.
At no point did he consider that Ansel’s car might be bugged, that the MI5 officer might be interested in Hákon’s call to his commanding officer, nor how the hunt for Cantrell might be connected to another hunt north of the Arctic Circle.
One step at a time.
That was how Hákon decided to play it.
Chapter 13
GÄLLIVARE, SWEDEN
The entrance to the Scandic Hotel in Gällivare had a drift of snow almost to the roof of the entrance. Etienne sent Evelyn a text, telling her he was checking them in and asking her to bring his overnight bag. He followed Berglund to the bar after picking up key cards for himself and Evelyn, tucking the paperwork into his jacket before sitting down.
“I got you a beer,” Berglund said, raising his glass.
“Cheers,” Etienne said, tipping the glass to his lips.
“Skål.”
Berglund drank half his beer before setting the glass back on the table. He looked at Etienne, tipping his head to one side as if studying him.
“You’ve never met a Mountie, eh?” Etienne took another sip of beer.
“No. My operations are restricted to Europe – mostly Scandinavia with some links to Eastern Europe.”
“Britain?”
Berglund’s eyes narrowed. He reached for his beer, drained it to within two fingers of the bottom of the glass, and raised his hand, holding two fingers up to the barman. Etienne nursed the rest of his beer, thanking the barman with a nod of his head when he brought the second round.
“You never answered,” Etienne said, as soon as the barman was gone.
“You noticed.”
“Yes.” Etienne remembered something else as Berglund hesitated – something about Berglund’s eyesight. He let it pass, choosing to enjoy his beer, letting Berglund decided how much he was going to tell him.
“Maybe a little with Britain.” Berglund started his next beer. “A little interaction. Not much. Nothing of consequence.”
“And Sky Vault?” Etienne asked, thinking that Berglund’s nothing of consequence probably meant the opposite. He thought back to Iceland, wondering if and then how the assassination – it was successful after all – and the current assignment might be connected.
“Ah, Sky Vault.”
“You said we would talk in the bar.”
“We are…”
“In a bar,” Etienne said. “But you haven’t told me anything yet.”
“You’re very persistent.” Berglund watched Etienne as he took another slug of beer. “The Mountie always gets his man. Isn’t that what they say?”
“It’s a cliché, but some say it.” Etienne stifled a yawn, wondering how long he had been awake, and then said, “Sky Vault?”
“Sure, okay, Sky Vault.” Berglund leaned forward, spiralling his finger through a small pool of condensation on the table surface. “Like you, our agencies use contractors for different things. We have our own servers for data storage, but for some operations we like to keep things separate. In those situations, we work with a contractor.”
“Like Swedish Sky Solutions?”
“Sure, we used them. They have a good product. At least, we thought so in the beginning. Then there was the article – late last year. We weren’t the only ones using Sky Solutions. Other companies liked the protection and the price packages.”
“Companies?”
“And organisations.” Berglund caught Etienne’s eye. “Not all these organisations were reputable. That made our bosses a little uneasy. I was given the job of looking into it. First, I had t
o find all the SÄPO operations that were using the Sky Solutions cloud. This was difficult.”
“Why?”
“Well, one of the features we liked about Sky Solutions was how easy it was to send data to the cloud. Our agents running operations in the field liked it a lot. They didn’t have to login to SÄPO’s main server. But when they did return to headquarters, they just dragged the data onto the main server. Everything was deleted, once they dragged it onto their desktop. So, you can imagine, many people were using this.”
“Like a Dropbox?”
“Sure, but secure, not shared. Easy to use.” Berglund paused to finish his second beer. “So, I put one of the young officers onto it. Someone who had a knack for this kind of thing.”
“Mats Lindström?”
“Exactly. I put young Mats onto it. His computer tests…”
“His what?”
“IT results,” Berglund said, wiping a spot of beer from his lips. He shrugged and raised his hand for the barman.
“I’m fine,” Etienne said, finishing his first beer and drawing the second towards him.
Berglund held up one finger, waited for a nod from the barman, and then continued. “So, little Mats, the young SÄPO officer, he looks into it. Pretty soon he has a list of all the SÄPO accounts using the cloud. I saw the list. Some of the names were strange, but familiar. You know?” Berglund took his beer from the barman, shooing him away as he took his first sip. “So, I asked the young Mats how he got the list. Some of the names were classified above his rank. He couldn’t know that, but I did. I asked if the company…” Berglund frowned, as if searching his memory.
“Sky Solutions?”
“That’s right. I asked if they told him. Because if they did…” Another sip of beer.
“That would be a breach of security.”
“Exactly. Mats could be anybody. I mean I know…” Berglund tapped his chest. “I know who he is. He works for me. You know?”
“That’s right,” Etienne said. “He works for you.”
“And he’s very good. I mean, he must have hacked into the cloud to make that list. I didn’t tell him to do it, but if he knew the kind of accounts SÄPO has, then he could have used that information, maybe done a little in-house social engineering.” Berglund waved his hand and grinned as if he was talking about something mystical. He took another sip of beer, set the glass down heavily on the table, and slumped back into his chair. “So, I started to think. Because of that article, my bosses wanted to know how much we used the cloud, but after Mats showed what he could do, I wondered.” Berglund tapped the side of his head, adding a touch of theatrics as he drew out the tale.
“You went back to your bosses,” Etienne said.
“I did.”
“You suggested something.”
“I suggested something.” Berglund winked. “They liked what I suggested. So, I went back to little young Mats, and I asked him if he was inside the cloud. You know?”
Etienne nodded.
Berglund leaned forward, beckoning for Etienne to do the same. “He was inside,” he said, the words rasping over his tongue. “I told him to have a look around. Now that he was inside.” Berglund rewarded himself with more beer.
“And this operation, Etienne said. “What did you call it?”
“Guess,” Berglund said, and then, “Himlavalv.”
“Sky Vault.”
“Right.” Berglund jabbed his finger towards Etienne. “Your Swedish is good.”
“Thanks.” Etienne moved his glass to one side and leaned forward. “You told Mats Lindström to have a look at the other clients inside the cloud.”
“Yes.”
“And was he successful?”
“Very.” Berglund finished his beer. “My bosses were pleased. We both got a pay rise.”
“And Mats copied the data from these other organisations?”
“Downloaded it and then shared it with SÄPO’s servers.”
“These organisations…”
“Everything from money laundering accounts – small time, to stolen goods. Lots of inventories, and a lot of money. People forget,” Berglund said. “They hear the word crime and ignore the word organised. These are businesses. Some of them even pay taxes – of one kind or another. Everything is recorded.”
“And Mats hacked all of the accounts in the cloud?”
“Not all. First, I told him to focus on the bigger accounts, the ones we could identify. I mean, if we read an inventory, and that matched the activities of one of the organisations we were looking into…” Berglund paused to raise his arm for the barman, but Etienne waved him off. “What?”
“Let’s just talk,” Etienne said. “You were talking about inventories?”
“Okay.” Berglund shifted in his seat. “Inventories?”
“From the bigger companies.”
“Right.” He nodded. “Mats found them. We kept it all quiet. We didn’t want to spook the companies. We didn’t want them to stop using the cloud. It was a gold mine. But after the article came out, some of the companies disappeared overnight. SÄPO spread the word for our field operations to stop using the cloud. That caused some friction. It takes longer to access the server. Some of the officers said the server speeds were too slow.”
“So they kept using the cloud?”
“Right.” Berglund nodded. He looked away for a moment, forcing Etienne to wait. When he looked back there was a glow in his eyes, a small fire burning away the alcohol, guarding what he said next. “I set Mats up here in Gällivare. It was convenient for him, because of the family situation. A new baby. Márjá’s parents falling ill.” Berglund paused. “Food poisoning, I think.”
“A satellite operation,” Etienne said, moving on.
“Yes.”
“Just like the SÄPO operations using the cloud?”
“Just like them, except Mats didn’t use the cloud. He backed everything up on hard drives.” Berglund pressed his finger and thumb together. “Small ones. Encrypted. He hid them in safe places. He said they were safer than the cloud.”
Etienne remembered what Gina said about the burglaries but decided not to ask.
“I had weekly contact with Mats, from Stockholm. I also came up once a month to supervise. He gave me these USBs and I took them back to Stockholm. Then, in October, one of the tech assistants at SÄPO asked me if I had given him the same USB twice. He said the data was an exact copy from the month before. I asked Mats, but…”
From what he knew of Mats Lindström, Etienne took a guess and finished Berglund’s sentence. “Mats is a bad liar?”
“Yes,” Berglund said, nodding.
“He found something.”
“I think so. And he wouldn’t share it. I ordered him to, but he kept giving me old data. Even I could see it was old. I started to come up once a week, then I took an office at the station – before moving into the apartment. But being close didn’t change anything.”
“What do you think he found?”
“What?” Berglund shrugged. “I still don’t know. But this is who he found.” He reached into his jacket and pulled a small photo from his pocket. Berglund slid it across the table to Etienne, avoiding the small puddles of beer. “His name is Isak Ivarsson,” Berglund said, as Etienne picked up the photo. “He used to work for SÄPO, but he’s freelance now. I bumped into him in Gällivare – here at the hotel, in early November.”
“You think he has something to do with Mats’ disappearance?”
“Disappearance? Suicide? Something. But yes, I think Ivarsson is involved.”
Etienne looked up from the photo, saw the fire flicker in Berglund’s eyes, and the twitch of skin in his cheek. Convenient, he thought, as he took another look at the photo.
“Keep it,” Berglund said. “You are here to help, and I am sharing intel.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Berglund tilted his head to one side and looked at the entrance to the bar. “Is that your Alaskan?�
��
“Evelyn?” Etienne said, turning in his seat. He called out her name and waved her over.
Evelyn brushed the last of the snow from her shoulders. She dropped Etienne’s bag onto the floor at his feet, followed by her backpack. She sat down between the two men. “Snow’s getting thicker,” she said, reaching for Etienne’s beer. “May I?”
“Go ahead.”
Evelyn took a sip, and then said, “Who’s that?”
“Isak Ivarsson,” Etienne said, as Evelyn took the photo from his fingers. He frowned. “Why?”
“Because I just saw him.” She turned to look back towards reception. “I mean, he was just here. In reception when I came in. But he took the elevator.”
“He’s here?” Etienne turned from Evelyn to look at Berglund, waiting for a reaction.
“It’s what I said,” Berglund said. “Ivarsson is connected. Now, if he thinks you are investigating Mats, he will be following you.” Berglund stood up, pulling his wallet from his pocket as he stepped away from the table. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he said. Berglund walked towards the bar, slapped a couple of notes onto the counter, and then left.
“So?” Evelyn said, once Berglund was gone. “He’s given you a suspect?”
“I’m not so sure.” Etienne took another look at the photo, before tucking it into his shirt pocket. “Suspect, or diversion. It could be one, or both. But…” he yawned. “I don’t know how you can keep going. I need my bed. But before I go, tell me what you found at Lindström’s house.”
Evelyn reached for Etienne’s beer, settling in her seat when he told her to keep it.
“What I found?” Evelyn smiled as she took another sip.
“Trooper Odell,” Etienne said. “I am one yawn away from a coma…”
Evelyn put the beer down and tugged her notepad out of her jacket. “Here’s what I found, and a map of the house showing every room I found them in.”
“Cameras?”
“Yep.”
“Lindström’s?”
“Some of them were. Others – the newer ones…” Evelyn shrugged. “I have no idea. But I’m guessing your drinking buddy might.”
“Yeah,” Etienne said, as he flicked through Evelyn’s notes. “He knows a lot more than he’s letting on.”
Mountain Ghost: A Polar Task Force Thriller, Book #2 (PolarPol) Page 10
