“The search area is a square of one by one nautical mile. This means we do not have to run any more sonar over it than we already have,” Modin said in a clear voice.
“That is too big of an area to dive in,” Axman said.
“Yes, we need to find a way to narrow it down further,” Modin said. “Sture has located the origin of the interference. I’m going to let him tell you how it was done because it is an extraordinary accomplishment.”
Sture was sitting with a hotdog in one hand, the ketchup bottle in the other, and a beer firmly squeezed between his knees.
“Well, what caught my attention was the remarkably even sea floor, which, after a while, was the only thing I saw when playing back the data from our hard disks. This is clearly a major anomaly, so, after Modin finally told me about the jamming device, I reached the conclusion that the image had to be fabricated. The jamming device electronically erases the weaker echoes from the bottom, like smaller rocks, but even larger debris. As I was digging deeper into the material, taking particular notice of the few runs we had made close to the territorial water limit, I noticed a spike in the interference at regular intervals. Using our logged speed, I calculated the time between each spike by measuring directly from the recorded sonar images—exactly ten seconds between each one. Armed with that knowledge, I went back to the raw data pinpointing where the interference occurred. That is how we arrived at this area of one by one nautical mile, which is a square of exactly 2,058 yards on each side. Based on that information, I am almost certain the object is somewhere within that square. Modin and I discussed this and we have decided to search that area using the negative radar. There should be no oil residue from commercial vessels since this location is off their beaten path. If we find oil, it will most likely be from our object.”
“Good job, Sture, you are a genius,” Axman said. “So let us hook up the radar tonight and plan for a 3:00 A.M. departure, or as soon as daylight breaks. Sture and I will go in the helicopter, the rest of you have to stay here. That monster will just stir up the surface,” he said and pointed to the Hulk.
“At 3:00 A.M., Special Ops will be fast asleep,” Modin said innocently.
“Me, too, I’m afraid. Please wake me up when it’s time to dive,” Bergman said with a noticeable buzz from the three beers he had already finished up.
Axman noticed a shadow briefly traversing Bergman’s face.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, just had a thought. Nothing to worry about.” But in fact, Bergman was worried. Something told him that they all might suffer consequences if they continued with this. Perhaps that was fine with all of them personally, but he was the only one with family. He had a daughter. He could not let anything happen to her. “No big deal,” he lied.
CHAPTER 34
SOUTHERN DISTRICT, STOCKHOLM, MONDAY, JULY 14
Ewa Bergman was tired. However, she comforted herself with the fact that as soon as she had sent her daughter off to dance class, she’d have a long and relaxing morning reading the newspapers. She was making hot chocolate and had already fixed a cheese sandwich with a generous layer of butter for Astrid.
“So, you will let me walk there alone?” Astrid asked.
“Yes, you and Evelina can handle this. Watch the traffic closely. No running! And pay close attention to what is going on around you. You understand?”
“No,” Astrid said. “I mean yes.”
Ewa Bergman turned her head to disguise a smile. The reflection in the aluminum door of the refrigerator revealed a well-preserved woman in her mid-thirties with tight curves and beautiful auburn hair. Her skin was slightly grayish from the stress of her job as a grocery store manager, but other than that, she was beautiful. She let her hand wander over the white bathrobe, allowing herself to think that with those attributes, it should not be too hard to find a new companion. She just had to give it some time.
“Here is your dance bag, sweetheart,” Ewa said while kissing her daughter on the forehead. “Come on, Evelina is waiting for you.”
Astrid scurried down two flights of stairs and found Evelina waiting right outside the door to her apartment.
“We’re leaving now, Mom,” Evelina shouted and slammed the door shut.
Astrid had just turned nine and Evelina was a few months older. At the bottom of the stairs, they exited onto Timmermansgatan 29 and walked eastward along the one-way street Wollmar-Yxkullsgatan in the southern district Södermalm. They made a left at the intersection of Wollmar-Yxkullsgatan and Swedenborgsgatan, heading toward Maria Square. The dance academy was located in a basement on the eastern edge of Maria Square, right next to the Hotel Rival, which was owned by ABBA’s very own Benny Anderson.
It was 8:45 A.M. on Sunday morning, and the streets were deserted. No more than 400 yards from the dance academy entrance on Timmermansgatan, a black SUV was idling at the corner of Wollmar-Yxkullsgatan and Swedenborgsgatan. The two girls would have to pass the humming car.
Astrid an Evelina were walking on the east side of Swedenborgsgatan, discussing what kind of dances they were going to practice. Evelina laughed when Astrid explained that she had already mastered each and every dance style, and that she personally was hoping they could practice jitterbug instead.
The black SUV slowly and quietly began to follow the two girls, who had now turned right onto Saint Paulsgatan Street.
Evelina jumped and made a pirouette on the sidewalk, her light summer skirt flapping around her legs.
The SUV stopped by the curb right next to them.
Astrid noticed a man in the corner of her eyes. She was laughing at Evelina as the image of a man approaching her grew. He had intense dark eyes and reeked of tobacco and mildew. Evelina was brusquely pushed away. Astrid. felt a firm grip around her waist and was airborne, fighting to free herself.
“Mommy, help!”
The man knocked her hands away, cursing at her, telling her to shut up. He forcefully folded her arms over her chest and threw her onto the rough upholstery of the backseat of the SUV.
Evelina tripped and fell on the sidewalk. Her bag, along with Astrid’s, was out in the street. The door slammed and Astrid was screaming inside the car as Evelina got back on her feet. She could see Astrid’s mouth moving, but there was not a sound escaping the soundproof interior of the SUV.
“Help! That man took her!” The engine of the SUV violently revved up right next to Evelina, so intense that she had to close her eyes. When she opened them again, Astrid was gone. The SUV sped off down the street, while Evelina ran as fast as she could, trying to keep up. She ran out of breath and had to let go at the intersection of Götgatan Street.
CHAPTER 35
MÄRKET REEF LIGHTHOUSE, ÅLAND SEA, MONDAY, JULY 14
Sture Hultqvist woke up with a start when the alarm of his cell phone went off. Slightly drowsy, he grabbed the bag by his feet and turned off the alarm.
Bill Bergman, who was lying right next to him on the floor, turned around without even waking up.
Sture crawled out of the sleeping bag, rubbed his eyes, put on his glasses, and pulled up his brown corduroy pants. After tying his sneakers, he went out to the front stoop and, although he was trying to shield his eyes with his left hand, the intense low morning sun hit his face. Once his eyes got used to the light, he spotted Axman, who was already performing the daily maintenance procedures for the helicopter.
In a joint effort, they had mounted the radar dome on one of the sleds the night before and secured it with cargo straps. The radar hardware was on the floor inside the helicopter, loaded with the necessary software ready to go.
“Help yourself to some breakfast,” Axman said. “There is hot water in the thermos and instant coffee in the plastic bag next to it.”
Axman was checking out the tail rotor, carefully pulling it around a couple of turns. The morning was crisp and clear with a slight smell of fish and seaweed coming in from the sea. The water was like a mirror for as far as the human eye could
see. Two seagulls sitting further down the cliff closely studied the men and their preparations.
Sture estimated it to be probably somewhere around 60 degrees and the sun was burning off the morning dew and warming the ground. He grabbed a cinnamon roll, going over the upcoming tasks in his head while chewing.
“What do you think Axman? Are the conditions decent enough to search for oil?”
“I would say they are almost ideal and they will upgrade to perfect once we get some even sea breeze in a little while. That will make the search for oil even easier. I have checked in with the weather service at Arlanda International and they have promised us decent weather all day with a southwesterly breeze picking up sometime after two o’clock this afternoon. That means we have a window of a few hours.”
“Come and have some coffee, John,” Sture said in a pleasant voice. “I have already poured you a cup.”
Axman sat down on the ground next to Sture and grabbed his cup. They drank the hot coffee in silence, looking out over the mighty sea in deep contemplation. The air is so high and pure here in the outer archipelago, Sture thought as he squinted toward the light.
The seagulls took off and flew low over the surface, hunting for invisible prey as the two men stepped into the chopper. Soon the overhead rotor was picking up speed. The helicopter only had room for two because of the equipment onboard. Once the rhythmic pumping had transitioned into a steady whoosh, the fuselage quivered as if it was eager to get off the ground. Axman nodded at Sture.
The Märket Reef Lighthouse disappeared beneath them. Axman tilted the rotor forward and the helicopter sped off on a straight course for Understen Lighthouse and the search area in the northeast. Sture was looking at the instruments, noticing that Axman had pre-programmed the search area into the navigation computer and was now closely following the instructions.
Axman lowered the helicopter and settled for an altitude of 30 feet above the surface. They passed over a small rock formation where a few hundred seals were sunbathing. As the chopper roared over the colony, some of them rolled into the water, obviously terrified by the commotion. Others did not even have a chance to react before the helicopter was gone.
“One minute to the target area,” Axman said through the intercom. “I will take her up slightly higher once we get there.”
“Affirmative. The equipment is ready,” Sture responded.
Sture was deep in concentration, eyes fixed on the radar screen. He wore an oversized pair of black headsets over his ears, handling four knobs in front of him to adjust the radar image. He immediately experienced problems with the contrast due to the intense light.
Axman slowed down the helicopter and climbed to 500 feet where he stabilized the heavy duck and brought it to hover over the surface.
“Are you ready, Sture?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
The helicopter advanced slowly scanning the surface bit by bit. All data was recorded on an external USB drive placed in a wooden box behind Sture. They used SLAR, side looking airborne radar, with the ability to detect lack of surface echoes and blank water.
“We will be able to see sections of water that have no surface noise,” Sture said. “For instance, a thin oil film. So please make sure you don’t stir up the water with the rotors.”
“Sure, easy does it,” Axman said.
They were slowly moving at an altitude of 450 to 600 feet. Axman maneuvered the relatively small craft with an experienced and soft touch to the controls.
He’s a natural, has a good feeling for the machine. Makes you feel safe, Sture thought as the radar was scanning back and forth. No other vessels were in sight. It was still very early in the morning and vacationers were either sleeping off last night’s buzz or feeding their kids a quick bite. The radar dome was now pointed in a 40-degree forward angle.
“Here! Right here, right underneath us,” Sture yelled.
Axman slowed down as much as he could, moving forward only a few knots. An extensive oil slick was directly underneath them, visible both on the radar and with the naked eye.
“I’ll be damned,” Axman said. “Who would have thought? Look at that oil spill!”
He pushed a button to commit the position into a memory slot in the navigation computer and then started to climb. As they were climbing higher, they could see the full extent of the phenomenon. It was an oil slick of about 1000 feet in diameter, shifting between blue and green. At an altitude of 1500 feet, the light came from behind, which afforded the best view. Any closer, the slick was no longer visible with the naked eye, but the radar could still pick it up.
They were hovering immediately to the east of the oil spill.
“Can you read out the current weather conditions please? Wind direction, speed, and temperature?” Sture said.
He jotted down the data Axman read out in his tiny notebook. Then he started to take pictures of the slick.
“Okay, we are done. Mission accomplished. Set course back to Märket, Axman.”
Sture spoke into the headset and was at the same time covering the microphone with his hand, careful not to create any unnecessary noises or disturbances in their image recording.
• • •
Matti Svensson was standing on the outer cliffs of Skatudden just east of Grisslehamn, balancing his yellow bicycle on his hip. He was watching the helicopter at the horizon through a pair of powerful binoculars. Once he had estimated bearing and distance to the object, he jotted down the information on a Post-It note.
CHAPTER 36
SOUTHERN DISTRICT, STOCKHOLM, MONDAY, JULY 14
Ewa Bergman was relaxing in her king size bed, reading the editorial pages of the newspaper, when the phone rang.
“Hi Ewa, have you heard anything from the girls?” Evelina’s mom said.
“No not yet, but it is still early. They’re not supposed to be home until eleven.”
“They never showed up at the dance academy. I just spoke to Evelina’s mother and she said they were never there. Nobody has seen them all morning. I’m concerned.”
Ewa squeezed her cell phone. Something was about to give, about to rend her soul, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“They never showed up at the academy?”
“No, something must have happened. They would not miss the dance class for anything,” Evelina’s mom said. “What are we going to do? We have to call the police.”
“I will be right down, just give me a minute,” Ewa said and pushed the covers away, getting to her feet. “We need to look for them!”
Ewa was frantically looking for something to wear. She found her boots and tucked her coat under her arm. She hated that cup of coffee on the nightstand. If only she had gone with them, if only she had not thought they were too big to require handholding like toddlers, if only she had not craved some alone time!
She left the apartment in a rush without even locking it.
• • •
“No, Evelina and Astrid never showed up for practice this morning,” said their dance teacher, a thin man in his forties.
“Are you sure? They weren’t even here for a little while?”
“Nope, not from what I could tell.”
“Oh my God. It’s only a few minutes from our apartment to here. What could have happened on such a short trip, for crying out loud?”
The two women decided to head down to the Södermalm police station on Tjärhovsgatan. It was a fifteen-minute walk, even at a fast pace. It was early on a Sunday morning and not a lot of people were out, apart from a few cars passing by.
They crossed over Medborgar Plaza, past the fast food stand and eastward to Tjärhovsgatan Street.
When they entered the police station, they immediately saw Evelina talking to a police officer at the other end of the room. She was sobbing. A female officer was hunkered down over her, trying to soothe her. The police woman’s eyes reflected deep concern, empathy, and worry. She was trying to take the two gym bags from Evelina’s hands, but in vain.
Evelina was holding on tight.
Ewa instantly read Evelina’s facial expression. Astrid is gone. Ewa ripped out her cell phone and dialed her ex-husband’s number. She cursed the fact that Bill did not seem to have his phone turned on.
“We have officers out looking for Astrid,” the female officer said. “We tried to call your husband.”
“They will find her soon, Ewa,” Evelina’s mom said, putting a hand on Ewa’s shoulder.
Ewa reached for her cell phone and, with shaky hands, dialed Bill’s number again.
“Where the hell is he when you really need him?” she mumbled before sheer fear overpowered her and she began crying uncontrollably.
CHAPTER 37
SOUTHERN DISTRICT, STOCKHOLM, MONDAY, JULY 14
The house was built in 1765, featured about four thousand square feet plus basement, and its polished stone facade was painted yellow. The roof was made of matte black tin and the front door was moss green. Located on the western side of the small island of Långholmen, it was well disguised on all sides by dense foliage, with the exception of a gravel yard in the front. Långholmen was connected to Södermalm through the Pålsund Bridge and the Långholmen Bridge, and stretching over parts of the island was the mighty concrete arch of Västerbron Bridge, which connected Södermalm to Kungsholmen.
The yellow house had a beautiful ocean view in the north, offering a clear sight of the Russian Embassy right across the water, on Kungsholmen. Långholmen prison, now serving as a hotel, was close too.
The large yellow wooden house had once belonged to a family of artists in Stockholm, but was now inhabited by a judge and his wife. A heavy-set male wearing a black leather jacket entered through the basement door, closing it behind him carefully. He stopped for a moment, seemingly in some sort of contemplation.
Deep State (Anton Modin Book 1) Page 21