Enemy of the State Read online

  “What do you suggest we do with this, Modin? That would be a huge scandal if this ended up on an editor’s desk.”

  “I think we should sit on it for a while. Only you and I need to know right now. No one else can have access to the key to the code. There’s only one copy. We must keep it under wraps.”

  Axman didn’t recognize his friend. He suddenly looked pale and worn. He himself had no real problems with the information. He had always suspected that NATO had had a finger in the pie. But for Modin, the information was a shock. He had always been pro-American.

  “This doesn’t mean that all submarine intrusions were coming from the west,” Axman said. “Only this one. There were hundreds of them. The other messages from the month of August were presumably Soviet. That’s why we couldn’t decipher them, because they were in a different code—Russian.”

  “Yes, I know,” Modin said quietly. “It still feels like betrayal. I was sure they were all Soviet submarines, particularly the one we found. Just think, American personnel was in that sub at a depth of 450 feet.”

  He shivered at the thought that Sweden had bombed a western submarine to pieces and killed the crew.

  “That would mean that the men who were brought on shore at the Singö pilot station were from NATO. You can bet your life that it was all hushed up and that intelligence was on the scene. You remember what Nuder said about those civilian guys that jumped into the ambulance. Those would have been CIA operatives.”

  “We really should go public with this,” Axman said. “I don’t like the Russians either, but the Swedish people deserve to know that we allowed NATO submarines to swim around in our waters and install surveillance equipment. Someone will have a little bit of explaining to do.”

  “We would have to think carefully about the consequences for Sweden if this hits the news,” Modin said, his hand resting on his chin. “That is, after all, the most important thing. The Russians were the enemy at the time and still are. That can’t just be dismissed right off the bat. This would give them a small but important alibi, a justification for their aggressive behavior.”

  “Yes, and it all has to come out.”

  “This is still topical news. Nuclear submarines still help maintain the balance of power out there in the big wide world. More than ever, now that new nuclear powers are popping up. The question is, whether we really want to know where these deadly subs originated. I’m not so sure the Swedish people do. Ignorance is bliss indeed.”

  CHAPTER 67

  GRISSLEHAMN, THURSDAY, MAY 20

  “I’ve been thinking about one thing,” Bergman said.

  He was having lunch with Modin and Axman inside Modin’s house at the large white dining table on the glassed-in porch. “It sure could have been American Navy SEALs working from West German bases. Perhaps western submarines were involved in the intrusions out here. NATO must have wanted to safeguard its surveillance installations in some way. I would have. They had to somehow minimize the risk that Soviet Spetsnaz units would rip out the SOSUS or sabotage it in some other way. That is if we assume that it was lying on the seabed completely open and unguarded. What do you think?”

  Axman and Modin looked at each another and smiled.

  “You just concentrate on your lunch, Bergman,” Modin said. “Don’t overstrain your brain with grand analyses. All that’ll get you is a headache.”

  “It didn’t require much brainpower. I just thought of it as I was lying on the pier this morning. It suddenly struck me and I wanted to share it. But go ahead and start the drama, you two, with ‘the Russians are coming,’ and all that.”

  They all had a good laugh. Modin fed his cat and returned to the boys at the round table.

  “I want us to fill the diving tanks for deep diving,” Modin said. “Bergman, would you fill them with Trimix gas after lunch? Take Nuder with you when he’s coming. Axman and I will do a training dive here in the inlet. I have to test my ears and the equipment. It ‘s been a while since I last dove.”

  Suddenly there was a burst of activity around the inlet. Diving tanks were brought out and attached to the air compressor, which was humming along in the diving shed, and the diving equipment was carried over to the pier.

  Nuder glided in an hour later with the Hulk, moored at the small pier, and jumped ashore.

  Miss Mona and Nuder walked toward each other on the lawn.

  “You better keep a low profile,” Nuder whispered to the cat. “Things can get rowdy around here.”

  Miss Mona slid down into the undergrowth and vanished in the direction of Modin’s sole neighbor.

  CHAPTER 68

  GRISSLEHAMN, THURSDAY MAY 21, 12:30 P.M.

  “Obviously Pelton has disclosed one of NSA’s biggest secrets.”

  (Bob Woodward, The Secret Wars of the CIA, 1987)

  A telephone call from Göran Filipson at the Security Service heightened their alert. He offered to send more bodyguards yet again, which Axman and Modin interpreted as an indication that something was up. Filipson’s concern was palpable, and he asked just a few too many questions about their plans and location. So, Modin just thanked him for his offer and ended the call politely. At this stage in the game, he trusted nobody. He was more paranoid than ever.

  I’ve gone too far, Modin thought. I can’t turn back any more. Unless I find proof, they will kill me. Even Filipson can’t protect me anymore, if he even wants to.

  “Our friend is our enemy, and our enemy can be our friend.”

  He had had enough and decided to rely only on facts, and one fact was the SOSUS installation at the bottom of the sea. There was a real risk that the Swedish Navy and Defense Radio Intelligence would drag the installation out of the water if they caught wind of the fact that Modin and company were going to dive for it. And if he waited much longer, they would undoubtedly find out.

  Modin was sitting on the edge of the pier tinkering with his old underwater camera equipment, when swells from the Hulk washed over his bare feet. His equipment consisted of an old Nikonos V with a 15 millimeter wide angle lens. He did not know what depth of water it could handle, but it had been down beyond 300 feet on several occasions. It would no doubt withstand greater depths. The idea was that if they did find the SOSUS, he would take pictures as proof. He was convinced that the presence of the equipment in Swedish waters was a crucial piece of evidence in the Olof Palme murder case.

  The previous night, Modin had been lying in bed, browsing through a book describing the CIA’s secret war between 1981 and 1987. Julia had recommended it. There were some interesting details about NSA spy Ronald W. Pelton’s betrayal of both the U.S. and of NSA itself. Julia had said that the book would enlighten him on why the U.S. was so adamant about installing the SOSUS equipment in the Baltic Sea. She had been right.

  A Soviet defector had told the CIA that the KGB had recruited an important spy working at the NSA. Ronald Pelton was arrested in November 1985 and charged with espionage. In the court protocol, the FBI wrote that Pelton had provided Soviet agents with information about an NSA project aimed at the Soviet Union. Most of the protocol was classified, but Bob Woodward, the Washington Post journalist who had exposed the Watergate affair, started investigating, and concluded that Ronald Pelton was one of the most significant KGB spies of the Cold War. He was so significant that the head of the NSA, William Odom, initially begged the newspaper not to print the story, as any article about Pelton and his revelations would provide the Soviet Union with new information, and this would damage the U.S. as a nation. The head of the NSA did not want to go into detail above the comment that national security was at risk. Pelton could have revealed the crown jewels of the NSA’s top secret operations to the Russians.

  Later on, when Bob Woodward was at a cocktail party, he asked William Casey, the head of the CIA at the time, why Odom had gotten so tough with him and his investigations into the Pelton case. William Casey had said, clasping his brandy snifter with both hands: “If you print that in your newspaper, the pre
ssure of public opinion will mean that we have to stop doing what we’re doing.”

  Casey never specified what it was they would have to stop doing, but Modin guessed that it was the illegal and secretive underwater activities not only in Soviet waters, but also in friendly and neutral waters like Sweden. They didn’t want anyone to know that they were secretly installing SOSUS equipment in foreign nations, including Sweden. That would have meant serious harm to U.S. diplomacy in the entire western world.

  On May 10, 1986, the Chairman of the Board of the Washington Post received a phone call from the President of the United States, Ronald Reagan. Reagan said he’d spoken to Casey and that the article about Pelton would indeed damage U.S. interests. “This is important,” the President had stressed and had hinted that valuable secrets were at stake.

  It must all have been top secret, Modin thought, if a Presidential incumbent takes the risk of calling a newspaper himself.

  When court proceedings against Ronald W. Pelton started on the morning of May 19 that same year, two and a half months after Olof Palme had been murdered, NBC reported that Pelton had obviously revealed one of NSA’s most valued secrets. That afternoon, Casey made a statement in which he said that he wanted to recommend that the Department of Justice prosecute the producers of the NBC show. Five days later, Casey and Odom at the NSA made a joint statement and “warned about speculations based on the information that had come to light during the hearing. Such speculations and additional material were not to be regarded as authorized information and could seriously damage state security.” (Bob Woodward, The Secret Wars of the CIA)

  On June 5, 1986, after thirteen hours of deliberations, Pelton was found guilty of espionage on two counts: conspiracy, and illegal exposure of secret information about signals intelligence. He was given three life sentences, plus ten years.

  The clear message Modin took from what he had read that night was that the secret surveillance operations conducted by the NSA all over the globe had to be kept a secret at any price. Julia knew what she was talking about, no doubt about that.

  He looked up at his friend.

  “Hi, Nuder! Good thing you’re here so soon. We’ll be going diving. Can you get all the equipment and the boat ready in the next 24 hours?”

  “Oh my God, yes sir!” Nuder said, as he jumped off the boat and tied it at the mooring place. “I’m ready when you are.”

  He then stood still for a moment and squinted at the horizon to make sure that no one had been following him. Nuder had a cautious, even suspicious nature when necessary, a trait that clashed with his teddy bear personality.

  Modin shook Nuder’s hand and then returned to lubricating the camera rings. A little further away, Axman was instructing Bergman how to aim and fire a Carl Gustav M/48 grenade recoilless rifle. Axman had bought it from his personal arms dealer, a move that could destroy his career at the police department. Now he and Bergman were lying on the rocks practicing. It looked unreal seeing that weapon here, Modin thought.

  He hoped that his neighbor wouldn’t catch wind what they were doing.

  CHAPTER 69

  SPECIAL OPS HEADQUARTERS, STOCKHOLM, THURSDAY, MAY 21

  “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!

  CHAPTER 70

  GRISSLEHAMN, THURSDAY, MAY 21

  “Palme is planning for the whole of the Baltic Sea littoral to become a Scandinavian nuclear-free zone.”

  Supreme Commander Lennart Ljung’s secret diaries, June 2, 1983)

  On the surface of the water, tranquil until a few moments before, a steady string of bubbles could be detected in two places. Bergman was sitting on the pier making small talk with Harry Nuder, while keeping an eye on the divers at the same time. Suddenly a flash came from under the surface. Then another.

  “Seems to be going okay,” Nuder said.

  “We’ll have to see if they can get out of their gear on their own,”

  Bergman said, laughing.

  Two large objects not unlike boulders broke the surface where the bubbles had been. Anton Modin and John Axman’s heads covered in neoprene emerged. They took off their masks and started to talk about depths and shutter speeds. They seemed excited and turned their faces away from the intense sunlight being reflected in the water.

  Modin was carrying a camera with a speedlite, which he set off a couple of times. He then laid it on the pier.

  “Is the equipment in good condition? And what about the bodies of those old men?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Axman said. Modin said nothing.

  Axman climbed up the metal ladder carrying his heavy equipment: two double oxygen cylinders, solid objects containing nineteen liters a piece, plus four smaller air tanks on his stomach. They had been swimming around the inlet, Axman told Bergman, to practice putting on and taking off the heavy equipment, and to test Modin’s camera. “Everything seems to be working just fine.”

  Bergman looked at Modin, who seemed to be worried. He was shaking his head as if he had water in his ears. That doesn’t look quite right, Bergman thought, but didn’t say anything. Modin and Axman were two of the best divers in the country, and he was not the only one to know it.

  “How is Modin?” Bergman asked, almost in a whisper. “Is he really fit to go diving?”

  “Yes, no problems there,” Axman said.

  Modin still said nothing. When his cell phone pinged
, announcing a message, he turned away, pretending everything was fine, but his facial expression as he shut off his cell phone said otherwise.

  CHAPTER 71

  NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT, U.S., THURSDAY, MAY 21

  A black Cadillac with tinted windows came slowly cruising down Goodrich Street. The two men in the front looked at each other, nodding almost unnoticeably, and then focused on the neighborhood ahead.

  The man in the passenger seat held a note with directions in his hand.

  “Take next left.”

  The driver turned left onto Shepard Street. They passed a school bus picking up children. It was almost three o’ clock, and school had just let out. The sun was shining. They were just a few weeks away from summer break.

  “Follow that bus,” the passenger said. “Fuck it’s warm today.”

  The school bus took Shepard Street south, crossed Red Street, Huntington, and then turned left on Bassett Street. After 200 yards it stopped.

  The black Cadillac followed behind.

  “Is that her?”

  The passenger picked up the photo of a little girl from the dashboard. Her name was Astrid. It said so on the back. She was a pretty girl in dark blue uniform and white socks.

  The girl in question jumped off the school bus. She swung her bag and seemed to be singing a song.

  “Yes, that must be her. Shall we?”

  CHAPTER 72

  RIDDARGATAN, THURSDAY, MAY 21

  Supreme Commander Håkan Syrén and his adjutant, Andersson, arrived as announced. Syrén let his gaze sweep over the office, resting only briefly on Loklinth and his right hand man, Lundin.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Can we speak undisturbed?” The Supreme Commander asked and remained standing.

  “Yes, if we can’t manage that, then everything’s gone to shits,” Loklinth said in a barely audible voice.