The latest version is that they were burned just before the exposure of IB in 1973. But the destruction was never entered in any official records, either domestic or foreign.'
'And if the records had been destroyed, it would have been documented?'
Berit drank some of her coffee and made a face. 'Yuck, this isn't exactly freshly made. Yes, IB was a standard Swedish bureaucratic organization. There are a lot of their documents in the Defense Staff Headquarters' intelligence archive. Everything was entered in a daybook, including reports of destroyed documents. There isn't one about these archives, which probably means that they're still there.'
'Anything else?'
Berit thought about it for a moment. 'They've always maintained that the foreign and domestic archives were destroyed at the same time and that there are no copies. We know that at least half of that is untrue.'
Annika looked closely at Berit. 'How did you get the Speaker to admit to his dealings with IB?'
Berit rubbed her forehead and sighed. 'The force of reason,' she said coyly.
'Can you tell me?'
Berit sat in silence for a while. She put two lumps of sugar in her coffee and stirred it.
'The Speaker has always refused to admit that he knew Birger Elmer,' she said in a low voice. 'He claimed he hadn't even met him. But I know that's not true.'
She fell silent; Annika waited.
'In the spring of 1966,' Berit said at length, 'the Speaker, Ingvar Carlsson, and Birger Elmer met in the Speaker's home in Nacka. The Speaker's wife was also present. They had dinner, and the conversation turned to the fact the Speaker and his wife didn't have any children. Elmer thought the two should adopt, which they later did. I told the Speaker I knew about this meeting, and that's when he began to talk.'
Annika stared at Berit. 'How the hell do you know that?'
'I can't tell you. You understand.'
Annika leaned back in her chair. It was mind-boggling. Jesus H. Christ! Berit had to have a source within the party leadership.
Neither woman spoke for a long time. They could hear the rain thundering outside.
'Where were the archives held before they disappeared?' Annika asked eventually.
'The domestic archive was at twenty-four Grevgatan and the foreign one at fifty-six Valhallavagen. Why do you ask?'
Annika had taken out a pen and paper and was writing down the addresses. 'Maybe it wasn't the Social Democrats themselves that made sure that the archives disappeared.'
'How do you mean?'
Annika didn't reply and Berit crossed her arms. 'Hardly anybody knew that the archives existed, let alone where they were kept.'
Annika leaned forward. 'The copy of the foreign archives was found in the incoming mail at the Defense Staff Headquarters, right?'
'Right. The parcel arrived at their printing and distribution office. It was registered, entered in the daybook, and classified. The documents were not considered secret.'
'What day did they arrive?'
'Seventeenth of July.'
'Where did they arrive from?'
'The official record didn't say. The sender was anonymous. It could have come from any dusty government department.'
'But why would they want to be anonymous in this case?'
Berit shrugged. 'Maybe they found the documents deep inside an old storeroom and didn't want to admit to having them all these years.'
Annika groaned, yet another dead end.
They sat in silence for a while and looked at the other customers in the restaurant. A couple of men in overalls were having an evening pizza. Two women were noisily drinking beer.
'Where were the documents when you looked at them?' Annika wondered.
'They'd just arrived at the archives.'
Annika smiled. 'You've got friends everywhere.'
Berit returned her smile. 'Always be nice to telephone operators, secretaries, registry clerks, and archivists.'
Annika emptied her glass. 'And there was nothing that indicated where the documents came from?'
'No. They were delivered in two big sacks.'
Annika raised her eyebrows. 'What do you mean, 'sacks'? Like potato sacks?'
Berit sighed lightly. 'I didn't really pay much attention to what they were. I was interested in their contents. It was one of my all-time best tip-offs.'
Annika smiled. 'I believe you. What did the sacks look like?'
Berit looked at her for a few seconds. 'Now that you mention it, there was something printed on the sacks.'
'You didn't see what it said?'
Berit closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, and sighed, then rubbed her forehead and licked her lips.
'What?'
'It could have been a courier's bag.'
'What the heck is a courier's bag?'
'Under the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations, there's an article that deals with inviolability of the communication between a state and its foreign missions. Article twenty-seven, I think. The diplomatic mail is sent in a special bag that is immune to inspection. Diplomatic couriers carry the bags through customs. It could have been one of those.'
Annika felt the hair on her neck stand on end. 'How could it have ended up at the Defense Staff Headquarters?'
Berit shook her head. 'A Swedish courier bag would never be sent there. They always travel between the Ministry for Foreign Affairs and the various embassies around the world.'
'But what if it were foreign?'
Berit shook her head. 'No. I think I must be mistaken. Swedish courier bags are blue with yellow lettering and it says 'Diplomatic' on them. This was gray with red lettering. I really didn't pay attention to what it said, I was trying to get an idea of how comprehensive the archive material was, whether it contained any original documents. Unfortunately there weren't any.'
They were silent for a while.
Annika looked at her former colleague. 'How do you know about all these things? Sections and conventions…'
Berit smiled at her. 'You get to write about most things over the years. Some of it sticks.'
Annika's gaze traveled out through the window. 'But it could have been a foreign courier's bag?'
'And it could have been a potato sack.'
'Can you see where this is heading?'
'Where?' Berit didn't think it was going anywhere.
'I'll tell you when I know for sure. Thanks for talking to me!'
Annika gave Berit a quick hug, opened her umbrella, and braved the rain.
Nineteen Years, Four Months, and Thirty Days
