Deep State (Anton Modin Book 1)

by Anders Jallai

  Modin and Bergman watched him disappear around the corner. They heard his bicycle as it took him off into the murky shadows and the early evening dew. He was gone.

  “Come on, Modin, let’s go and check out what’s in the diving shed!”

  Bill Bergman gently wrestled the cognac snifter out of Modin’s hand. Modin reluctantly got up and came along.

  Dusk was barely noticeable at their latitude, at least during this time of year, and the low evening sun shone a soft orange glow onto the three houses on the property. Apart from the main building, there was a sauna with a shower and a sea cottage, half of which doubled as a guest house. The other half served as a storage unit for various pieces of diving equipment such as an air compressor and a device for producing Trimix gas. The space had been locked up for years and the air was musty. Beneath the diving storage was a landing stage where Modin’s little dinghy docked, its giant two-stroke engine attached to the stern.

  Modin managed to open the first door, a heavy steel meshed door protecting a sturdy but weaker wooden door on the inside. He couldn’t remember the last time he had opened it.

  Inside, numerous pieces of breathing equipment and aqua lungs hung along two of the walls. Half masks and a few scuba full foot fins hung from the ceiling, and a few diving suits and fourteen gas cylinders, some of them double packs, hung along the short wall. There were ads on all of them. They had been well sponsored back when they were active, and many firms had supplied them with state-of the-art equipment.

  Modin had built shelves for trophies and shipwreck memorabilia. He had a collection of ship bells and a bottle of champagne from 1907, Heidsieck Monopole Gout Americain, from the wreck of schooner Jönköping, as well as rusty parts of an APR-9, the super-secret American signals surveillance equipment found onboard the DC-3. There were also five Soviet and German submarine code books, which they had found in sunken submarines. Just for kicks, they called these shelves “Venona Project Light.”

  “I’m afraid this time we aren’t going to have any sponsors,” Modin said. “To hell with them. This time we are in the gray area beyond sports diving. Beyond sports diving, do you hear me Bergman?”

  Bill Bergman remembered. That’s how they used to refer to their activities when they were at the peak of their careers. Back then, they were diving on levels beyond human laws, comprehension, and limits. The diving community had branded them renegades and considered them irresponsible as they dove to ever increasing depths, far deeper than anyone had thought possible.

  • • •

  It had darkened considerably. A black Saab was rolling down toward the house, engine shut off. From a distance, the two men in the car could hear rattling from inside the diving storage, every now and then interrupted by laughter from the two men digging through the equipment. The trunk of the car concealed two pair of bloody overalls, protective head gear, and protective eyewear in a carefully sealed plastic bag.

  The black Saab started its engine without the two men inside the shed even noticing. The discrete sound of tires rolling over fine gravel provided no reason for any kind of worry.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE SECURITY SERVICE, STOCKHOLM, SUNDAY, JUNE 15

  Police Superintendent Göran Filipson gently drew his fingers through the graying hairs of his left temple, trying to gather his thoughts for the meeting. He was the department head of the most secretive division within the Swedish Security Service, the Section for Special Analysis, SSA. It had been created in the 1970s as a civilian counterpart to its military equivalent, the Department of Special Operations, or DSO.

  The department’s initial goal was to protect and serve national security, but also to act as a surveying authority over functions like signals intelligence, SIGINT, Special Ops, and the Swedish Defence Materiel Administration, FMV.

  In the 1980s, the group’s primary goal had been to protect the Swedish industry from technology smugglers. They imposed their influence and control through American trade operatives working for the CIA, who infiltrated various Swedish high tech companies and even FMV. At the time, Sweden was at risk of a trade and technology embargo imposed by the Reagan administration due to the alleged illegal technology transfer to the Soviet Union in the 1970s. It was known as the infamous Datasaab and ASEA affairs, where U.S. computers and software were smuggled to the Soviet Union. Consequently, the SSA was tasked with overseeing the severely tightened export control procedures for Swedish high tech companies. The United States answered by appointing two export control attachés to Europe, one in Stockholm and the other in Vienna. Sweden was on the Pentagon’s list of high-risk countries. Nothing short of a regular trade war was going on in Stockholm in the 1980s, culminating on February 27, 1986, when Sweden imposed its first export control laws. The legislation was to prevent export of American technology to countries within the Warsaw Pact. The American trade agents who, in turn, collaborated with the Swedish Security Service, tried to obtain their goals by using all electronic surveillance technology available to them.

  The participants in this undercover trade war were the Swedish Special Ops, CIA, and GRU. Officially, the Swedish Security Service was not part of the export control program, because, from an official political standpoint, participation could be seen as giving in to the American government and the CIA.

  Instead, the Defence Materiel Administration, FMV, ran the shop. The problem with that, from Göran Filipson’s point of view, was that the entire Defence Materiel Administration was infiltrated by the GRU. In other words, there were Soviet spies within the FMV.

  We act without being seen, Filipson thought, as he watched the crowd fill up the auditorium.

  “As you all know, we are here to discuss a recent and potentially serious threat to our national security,” Göran Filipson started after everyone had found their seats and the doors had closed. “This is probably the most severe problem we have encountered since the U.S. technology export restrictions in the 1980s. I am sure all of you remember what kind of problems that embargo caused for us, our industry, and our nation.”

  Göran Filipson’s appearance was that of a typical bureaucrat—gray, through and through; hair, suit, eyes, and face so gray that it was almost impossible to see or focus on him. Even the cup of coffee in his hand was gray. He was the most senior member of the department and had been looking forward to a few quiet years before retirement.

  Without revealing any of the anger that had built up inside of him, he continued by clearing his throat.

  “You, just like me, know that the Security Service and its military equivalent, the Department of Special Ops, exercise more influence over everyday politics in this country than most people like to think. Through informal meetings like this one, we can assure that our views and opinions are taken into consideration, without anyone noticing. Sweden has been ruled this way for ages—ruled by a shadow government, which the rest of the world refers to as ‘Deep State.’ We can go as far back as the fifteenth century, when an elite group controlled the King, just like the Security Service, the intelligence community, and representatives from big and powerful corporations are now controlling the Swedish government. I won’t go any further than that. On the agenda now is the issue at hand.”

  In the chilly south wing of the Security Service facility, Filipson now stepped up to the podium and began his PowerPoint presentation. The surrounding walls were plastered with tabloid headlines of successful busts and tributes to the firm in the name of national security.

  It was a mostly invited audience, including a few internal resources— selected, vetted and handpicked security servicemen and bodyguards, who had no choice but to participate. All were seated in comfortable designer chairs around a mahogany conference table. Two women, twice as many as only a year ago, and thirteen men represented different branches of Swedish business and industry. They were all dressed appropriately, wearing smart attire in dark colors. Each one had arrived at the building at different times and had been discretely let in through the
parking garage. They had gathered to review the recent developments and to jointly solve the problem at hand. Needless to say, all these high-ranking heavyweights saw themselves as the very pillar on which the welfare state stood.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Superintendent Göran Filipson started. “This meeting has been called to discuss your financial interests, Sweden’s financial interests, and our common interests in Russia.”

  Filipson cleared his throat and took a sip from a glass of water.

  “Water and various snacks and appetizers are available on the table in the rear, in case you are interested.”

  He pointed toward a big table with white linen in the back of the room, filled with bottles of sparkling water and a big tray with different hors d’oeuvres. Next to the table, an elderly gentleman in an old-fashioned white wait staff jacket locked his arms behind his back and closed his eyes. He seemed to be deep in concentration, listening intently.

  “We are going to have to come to a joint decision here tonight,” Filipson continued. “I am well aware of the fact that this is a very sensitive issue, but according to recent intelligence out of Germany, the German government intends to freeze relations with the Russian President, and, if at all possible, attempt to put a halt to the two countries’ common energy program. Reasons for this radical shift in policy are indications that the Russian President harbors ambitions to create a united Europe, dominated by Russia. The Russian President Putin has, in collaboration with the KGB and GRU, continuously built a stronger and more dominant Russia. The Russian plan incorporates a new strategy toward Europe. Preliminary results from our intelligence analysts indicate that they are already infiltrating certain key functions on different levels within the European Union. The emerging seed of democracy we all had hoped for after the fall of the Berlin Wall could already have been crushed in its infancy. Our American friends are not happy about this development. A Russian predominance in Europe could easily destabilize all of NATO.”

  He paused to let this last piece of information sink in before he continued.

  “We have to act, and act now, in order to protect our investments and our relations with United States before it’s too late. Considerable restrictions in human rights, free speech, and democracy are to be expected in a not too distant future. It is quite possible that Russia is ready to move on to the next step in executing this strategy to take control over Europe as they tried to during the cold war. Restrictions and serious limitations regarding foreign investments in Russia have already been imposed. And this, ladies and gentlemen, this is only the beginning—at least that’s what our strategic analysts believe.

  “What is the source of this information?” a gray anonymous suit asked.

  “I have this information from our contact within MI6 in Great Britain,” Göran Filipson said. “I suppose you all recall the case of Litvinenko, the high ranking FSB officer who was assassinated in London. Somebody put polonium 210 in his tea at a restaurant in London in November 2006. Before his demise, he worked closely with British intelligence, and this is what he told them. In addition, we have similar information from other sources out of Moscow, sources I am not allowed to disclose. Our goal must be to disrupt the Russian influence and to take back control of our investments. I know what you are all thinking and I realize this can cause turbulence in your business relations and contacts in Russia.”

  Filipson wiped his forehead using a white napkin. He was subjected to stage fright every time he had to address representatives of Swedish business and industry, even if he had become more used to it lately. These people intimidated him; hailing from a small suburb south of Stockholm surely unknown to the upper class elite, his background was within another social class. He drove a modest model of Volvo V70, while most of the people listening to him now had likely arrived on more luxurious wheels.

  With resolve, he continued his presentation.

  “The Security Service misjudged the new Russia, and to some extent, so did you, ladies and gentlemen. We overestimated the emerging business opportunities. Powerful Swedish lobby groups lured us into the current circumstances, and we suspect that these groups have either been paid for by the Russians, or have been exposed to extortion. Modern day spies, if you will. Now we have to salvage whatever we can. We need to neutralize these lobbyists. President Putin and his security and intelligence apparatus have infiltrated our own business and industry network. For instance, too many westerners have invested heavily in the Russian oil industry. They have to make a return on those. The same goes for Swedish corporations that have established a base in Russia. All while our banks are sitting on an unsecured debt of billions. With this bleak outlook, we are going to have to give the Russians something in exchange, something they need.”

  Filipson took a sip of water and leaned forward on the podium.

  “Allow me to digress. If we do not act within the framework of our financial instruments and means, the stock markets in both Russia and China will come to the brink of collapse. Mother Russia and China will both be forced to seal their borders to prevent capital outflow and the draining of core competencies. Inflation will skyrocket. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happens to your investments—they will become worthless. It could very well be a repeat of the events in the Soviet Union in the 1920s, when Lenin passed away and Stalin took over. After a period of relative transparency and openness, Stalin quickly turned the Soviet Union into a totalitarian state again, with terror and isolationism as his tools. We are facing the risk of a new Cold War. At worst, we may even face World War III.”

  Filipson wiped his forehead again. The napkin was soaked. He avoided looking at his audience and concentrated on his notes instead.

  “We have developed a rescue plan, which I intend to reveal to you here today,” he continued.

  He clicked up another slide in his PowerPoint presentation.

  “This is Anton Modin, a former DSO operative. We have kept this man under surveillance for quite a while. This picture shows him in his prime, during his time in the Air Force. Today he is 42 years old. Over the past few years, he has been subjected to a series of personal tragedies. His entire family perished as the passenger ferry M/S Estonia keeled over and sank on a stormy night in the middle of the Baltic Sea in 1994. As you can see from this picture,” he advanced to the next slide, “he has returned to civilian life, and to some extent let himself go.”

  He paused for a moment.

  “Anton Modin possesses certain qualities we are interested in,” Filipson said in a clear and concise voice. “Unbeknownst to him, we will use him to our benefit, turning him into one of the most dangerous weapons in our arsenal.” Filipson turned around and looked at the PowerPoint slide. “Anton Modin has the rare ability to think abstractly. But what makes him most useful to us, and dangerous at the same time, is his callous attitude. I think you know the type. He is dangerous because he cannot be controlled. Individuals with this particular profile are always on the radar of the secret services of the world. There aren’t very many of them. Litvinenko, the Russian FSB operative I mentioned earlier, and the former World Chess Champion Kasparov were others. This type of man does not compromise, he is obstinate, and he prefers to live and work alone. Some would even classify him as unsympathetic and prejudiced. Neither bribes nor threats will sway him. This kind of man does as he pleases and when he pleases.”

  Filipson slowly strolled across the podium and once again turned toward the PowerPoint slide, legs spread wide apart and hands locked behind his back. He discreetly weighted his body on his heels to ease some of the pressure built up in the arches of his feet.

  “As for Anton Modin, his passion is researching old dusty archives. He is looking for answers to eternal mysteries. For instance, he is very interested in the DC-3 incident, Prime Minister Palme’s assassination, and the ill-fated journey of the M/S Estonia ferry. He is on a quest for the truth. And this brings me to his one weakness: He believes there is a truth, and that i
t must be upheld at all cost. It is this very naïveté that we intend to use to our advantage.”

  Filipson turned toward the audience, glanced at the last rows in the back of the room, and sat down. With his left hand, he adjusted some out of place strands of hair, while with his right holding up a document he’d just retrieved from the file on the table in front of him.

  “As some of you know, we have previously experienced some trouble with Special Ops and its superintendent, Chris Loklinth. I would guess that his archive probably contains dirt on a majority of those assembled in this room. Given we cannot fully trust Chris Loklinth’s loyalty, nor that of his organization, this is a very big problem. In fact, it is the very problem we hope Anton Modin will solve. Nobody will be better suited for this job than a former operative of the DSO. Special Ops needs to be neutralized. The business and industry community as well as the Security Service must have room to maneuver freely and to work independently. We cannot allow too many states within the state.”

  He put the document down on the table.

  “As soon as the Russians or Special Ops realize that we are using Anton Modin for our objectives, they in turn will try to neutralize him. How do we prevent that scenario?” Amelia Carlson, the female chair of the Carlson conglomerate, sitting in the front row, asked.

  “That is an obvious risk indeed,” Filipson said without the slightest emotion. “We will do everything in our power to protect him. We already have him under 24/7 surveillance. The entire project will be financed through our jointly managed King Gustav III Foundation.”

  The Gustav III Foundation had been instituted in the early 1980s through sizable cash contributions from private businesses and individual business magnates, most of whom were now registered at addresses outside of Sweden, mostly in England. The Carlson estate administered the foundation; its funds were earmarked for fighting socialism in all shapes and forms. This included, among other items, the mandatory employee profit sharing funds proposed by Prime Minister Olof Palme’s administration. The agenda also included liberating state-owned and government-controlled media in order to rid the nation of the state monopolies once and for all. There were billions to be harvested from liberating the media, just as long as it was exposed to the market forces and open competition. Now the leverage of the foundation was called upon again, this time to salvage and protect what they could of the giant investments made in Russia and China.