Page 34 of Spymaster

“Can you please tell me what this is all about? You’re obviously here for a reason,” Harvath said.

“I was hoping you could tell me. There was a car accident tonight. The driver was carrying a piece of notebook paper with the Visby airport code, a time of arrival, and the tail number for your aircraft. I assume the driver was on his way here to meet you.”

A bad feeling began to build in the pit of Harvath’s stomach. “Is the driver okay?”

“Unfortunately, no. He was killed in the accident.”

“Have you identified him?”

Nyström nodded.

“And?” asked Harvath.

“First, please tell me. Were you expecting someone to meet you here tonight, and if so, whom? Their name.”

“Lars Lund,” said Harvath, the feeling in his stomach climbing into his throat.

“I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Lund died this evening as a result of the injuries he suffered.”

Harvath masked his feelings. He was highly skeptical of car accidents, especially when they involved skilled intelligence operatives in the middle of assignments. He felt the same way about plane crashes and hit-and-runs.

Experienced people in the espionage game tended to be very careful. As a rule, they checked and then double-checked everything. They didn’t take unnecessary risks.

When they did end up the victim of an “accident,” foul play always had to be considered. “What can you tell me about it?” Harvath asked.

“From what we can surmise, Mr. Lund was traveling at a high rate of speed and lost control,” said the officer. “Is there a reason why he may have been in such a hurry?”

Harvath shrugged. “None that I can think of.”

“Exactly why was Mr. Lund coming to meet you?”

“He was supposed to have been our host.”

“Host for what?” asked Nyström.

“Mr. Lund worked for the Swedish Defense Force back in Stockholm. We were going to tour the island with him and discuss logistics for an upcoming multilateral training exercise.”

Harvath knew that Swedish authorities, particularly those on Gotland, were alert to potential Russian infiltration. At the same time, they had also become increasingly accustomed to military training exercises with NATO. That meant the closer he stuck to the truth of why he and his team were here, the less chance their presence would raise any alarm.

“Can you tell me more about this exercise?” the Chief Inspector inquired.

“Unfortunately, not without approval from higher up. What I can say is that it’s an unannounced drill designed to test joint readiness. Participants, including the garrison here on Gotland, would be given a scenario and then be graded on how quickly they mobilized and how well they responded.”

“So the exercise is a secret?”

“That’s a good word for it, but I thinksurprisewould be more accurate. By surprising them and not giving them time to prepare, we’re better able to measure how they would react in real life.”

Nyström seemed to buy it, and handed Harvath his credentials back. “Should I not alert the garrison commander about claiming the body then?” he asked.

Harvath had to think quickly. “That should probably be up to the Swedish armed forces. It’s their choice if they want to inform the garrison commander or not. They might decide to send someone from Stockholm to quietly claim the body.”

“Indeed,” replied the Chief Inspector. “Speaking of which, did you know Mr. Lund personally?”

“I did.”

“As he’s from the mainland, we don’t have anyone on Gotland who can confirm his identity. Would you be willing to come with me to the hospital?”

“Now?”