“Lundin, come here, quick!”
Christ Loklinth was busy coordinating signals monitoring of Anton Modin’s movements and had just received the first satellite images of the area from Defense Radio Intelligence. Modin and three more men were out there in Grisslehamn at Modin’s house. Despite the fact that they were only four, Loklinth realized that the operation could turn bloody. But they had received the go-ahead from the Supreme Commander and they would just have to make the best of a bad situation.
“Bob, where’s the wiretap transcript?”
“There hasn’t been very much to tap,” Lundin said. “One conversation with Filipson at the Security Service, and that’s all, I’m afraid. They’re using prepaid phone cards and are talking in coded language. Can’t make out much.”
“Fuck,” Loklinth said, spraying spit over the papers on his desk in front of him. “A damned shame that it was us who trained him. Hell, we trained them both, Modin and Police Inspector Axman. It’s like training fucking al Qaida.”
He got up and walked around the room. “Have we heard anything about Bergman’s daughter in the U.S.? Has the FBI found her?” Loklinth was steaming.
“She’s been located,” Lundin said. “They’ll notify us when they have her. The FBI’s been very helpful. They’re on our side. What I told them was that she’s the daughter of a suspected terrorist here in Sweden.” He smiled as he used the word “terrorist.”
“Excellent, Lundin. The end justifies the means. What about Glock’s troops? How many of them are ready to fight?”
“The Barbro Team is assembling in the Skandia Bar. Twelve men will be ready for action at six tonight. Eleven more will be ready to be deployed by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Fair enough,” Loklinth forced his face to adopt an expression of calm and self-confidence—a mask. “I simply love it when a plan comes together, don’t you, Bob?” He stretched and sighed deeply. “We shall defend Sweden and the Swedish people, men, women and children. That’s what we’re trained to do, Lundin. It is our God damned duty. Has the Royal Court been informed?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have a word with the Secretary of State, and see what course they want to take,” Lundin said, rushing off to his own office. “By the way,” he yelled from the corridor. “The Supreme Commander will be here at three.”
“Hell, that’s in forty minutes,” Loklinth said. “Why doesn’t anybody tell me these things in good time?” Chris Loklinth’s back became damp with sweat. Rings as large as CDs had formed under his armpits. He lifted his arms to sniff them discreetly.
Ugh, what a stench and now the Supreme Commander will be here within the hour. Shit!