Page 75 of Spymaster

Scrolling through the call logs, she could see that he had talked with someone named Dominik twice in the last hour. The most recent call was ten minutes ago. She shared the information with Harvath.

“What should we do?” she asked.

Harvath duct-taped both men’s mouths and replaced Sparrman’s hood. Picking up the radio, he hailed Haney via his call sign and told him that they had received a visitor and to get down to the shed with an extra hood on the double. Then he motioned for Jasinski to follow him outside.

Once they were out of earshot, he said, “We’re going to have to pack up. We can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Johansson probably didn’t give this location to his dispatcher, but I’ll bet he gave it to the cell leader.”

“Is that the one from Johansson’s phone?” she asked. “Dominik?”

“According to Sparrman, his full name is Dominik Gashi. Probably an alias.”

“GRU?”

“That’d be my guess,” said Harvath.

“So what do you want to do?”

“I want to get the hell out of Sweden, but first I want to get my hands on this Dominik character.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“We’re going to have to ask for help,” he replied.

“From who?”

“The local police.”

•••

When Harvath rolled up to the wrecking yard in a Swedish police car, Chief Inspector Nyström’s first instinct had been to draw his pistol. He didn’t, deciding instead to honor his promise to hear the American out.

Opening the gate, he allowed the car to pass through and then closed and locked it behind him.

“Where’s my officer?” Nyström asked once Harvath had stopped and gotten out.

“He’s safe.”

“That was going to be my second question. This is Johansson’s vehicle. Where is he?”

“He’s not far,” said Harvath.

“What’s this all about?”

“I think Johansson should tell you.”

The moment Harvath’s hand went inside his coat, the Chief Inspector went for his gun.

“Easy,” cautioned Harvath, showing him the phone. “Everything’s okay.”

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Nyström ordered, uncomfortable with all of the subterfuge.

“Chief Inspector, you’ve got a very dangerous cell of Russian operatives here on Gotland. The cell includes a contingent of Russian Special Forces soldiers. Of the six Swedish nationals who are members of the cell, your officer, Magnus Johansson, is one.”

Nyström wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Johansson? He’s an exemplary officer. You had better have some very strong evidence.”