A Death in Sweden by Kevin Wignall Read Free Book Online Page A

might be marginally higher working for the ODNI than out on his own.
    Perhaps, ultimately, it came down to whether or not he could trust Patrick, and even a short time in his company had been enough to convince him that his instincts had been right. Whether this job would save him was another matter, but apart from Charlie, Dan suspected Patrick White might be the only person in the world he could trust to help him right now.
    “Okay, I’ll do it.”
    “I knew I could count on you, Dan.”
    “Well, I’m still alive.”
    “It’s a start.” He reached into his pocket and placed a USB stick and a British passport on the table. “All the background we have is on there. UK passport in the name of David Porter. Your contact in the Swedish Security Service will probably need to know who you are, but we’ll use the alias for most of the others.”
    “What if the Swedes share the information with Langley, let them know what you’re up to?”
    “They won’t. I still have some influence. I assume you’ll want to go up to Fillon’s place to begin with, see where the trail starts, and I can arrange for your baggage to bypass Security for that trip, but thereafter it might be better if you make your own arrangements.”
    “I always have in the past.”
    “The CIA wasn’t trying to kill you in the past.”
    Dan nodded, put the passport and USB stick in his pocket, and drank the rest of the cognac. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just agreed to, and wasn’t really sure what he’d expected out of this meeting anyway. He certainly hadn’t expected a trip to northern Sweden but, on the positive side, he doubted Brabham would ever think of looking for him there either.

Chapter Eight
    Dan was met off the plane at Arlanda by a guy called Henrik Andresen from the Swedish Security Service. He was in his forties, looked older, and came across like a slightly rumpled high school teacher.
    He addressed Dan as Mr. Porter, then as David. They bypassed Security, headed to a small spare office which had the feel of an interview room, and Andresen brought him coffee and pastries.
    They stayed there for just under an hour, Andresen talking primarily about the weather and how much colder Dan might expect to find it up in the north. At no point did he refer to the job or Dan’s position.
    When his next flight was ready, Andresen carried out the same courtesies in reverse. Then, with some relief on Dan’s part, he said goodbye to him, explaining that another colleague would meet him in the north.
    Dan sat by the window for the hour or so of the internal flight and, as he looked down at the seemingly endless landscape of lakes and forests, he could understand more than ever why someone would choose rural Sweden for a hideout. If it hadn’t been for the accident, he doubted anyone would have ever found Jacques Fillon.
    Maybe that’s what it would take to secure his own future too, if Patrick’s plan didn’t work. He imagined himself falling off the grid the way Fillon had, but wasn’t sure he had it in him. True, he’d stayed out of reach one way or another for most of his adult life, but he’d also stayed on the move, and was less confident that he’d ever be able to settle permanently into some rural idyll.
    Of course, he didn’t know what Fillon had been running from, or what kind of person he’d been. Maybe he’d been one of life’s natural loners, maybe he’d been a keen hunter or birdwatcher, or had possessed some other interest to explain the move. Or maybe he’d just been afraid enough to put up with it.
    There was a woman waiting for Dan as he left the plane. She was in casual clothes, pretty and fair, a sporty leanness about her, almost too Scandinavian. He’d hoped she was there to meet him as soon as he’d spotted her, and it felt like a lucky break when she met his gaze and smiled, saying, “Welcome to Luleå, Mr. Hendricks.”
    She knew his name, which felt like it mattered somehow, and he stepped aside