Gabriel turned to Kalla Eriksen. “Don’t do it, Prime Minister.”
“Whyever not?” she asked.
“Because you would be making a dreadful mistake.”
“It wouldn’t be my first, I assure you.”
“We have that in common, you and I.”
“But I’m the prime minister of Denmark, Mr. Allon. Which means that I’m responsible for the security of my citizens. Some of my countrymen have taken issue with the fact that I didn’t order our armed forces to shoot down the drones that entered our airspace last autumn. I won’t make that mistake again. Nor will I allow Captain Yuri Ivanov to slip through my fingers.”
“Arresting him tonight won’t make Denmark any safer.”
“But itwillprevent the Russians from launching those drones.”
“Possibly,” Gabriel conceded. “But it will also rob you of an invaluable opportunity to gather intelligence that might help you defend Denmark in a future conflict. They’re probing you, and you have to probe them in return.”
“The future is already here, Mr. Allon.” With a glance at Ingrid she added, “I shouldn’t think I need to explain that to you.”
“You don’t, Prime Minister.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
“We watch and wait.”
“Sit on our hands and do nothing?”
“I don’t believe I said that.”
She gave him a stern look over her cup. “Go on, Mr. Allon.”
“Lars and his officers will watch Yuri Ivanov’s every move. In the meantime you will place your air defenses on a heightened state of alert.”
“And when the drones come?”
“You will have undeniable proof of Russian involvement.”
“The Kremlin will deny it, which is what they always do.”
“They won’t be able to if one of their GRU officers is sitting in a Danish jail cell.”
The image clearly appealed to her. She exchanged a look with her intelligence chief, then said, “Lars and I need to have a word in private.”
Gabriel followed Christopher and Ingrid into the prime minister’s anteroom. From inside the office there soon came the sound of a heated debate. “Poor Lars,” said Ingrid. “I don’t envy him.” She looked at Gabriel and added, “Or you, for that matter.”
“She wasn’t impressed by my plan?”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Perhaps I should go back in there.”
“I wouldn’t advise it.”
The argument grew increasingly contentious, though now it was Lars Mortensen who was on the offensive.
“The tide has definitely turned,” said Ingrid.
“Not for long,” murmured Christopher as the prime minister issued a sharp retort. “She has a touch of Mrs. Thatcher, doesn’t she?”
