been a question mark during that morning’s assignment of tasks, as the surveillance officer detailed to watch him had lost track of him the evening before. His car had been parked on Kungsholmen and he had not been home to his apartment during the night. This morning they had not expected to locate and apprehend him.

They man the place at night for security reasons. Of course. And Sandberg sleeps over after the night shift.

Sandberg had on only his underpants and seemed to be dazed with sleep. He reached for his service weapon on the bedside table, but Figuerola bent over and swept the weapon away from him on to the floor.

“Jonas Sandberg… you are under arrest as a suspect and accessory to the murders of Gunnar Bjorck and Alexander Zalachenko, and as an accomplice in the attempted murders of Mikael Blomkvist and Erika Berger. Now get your trousers on.”

Sandberg threw a punch at Figuerola. She blocked it instinctively.

“You must be joking,” she said. She took hold of his arm and twisted his wrist so hard that he was forced backwards to the floor. She flipped him over on to his stomach and put her knee in the small of his back. She handcuffed him herself. It was the first time she had used handcuffs on an assignment since she began at S.I.S.

She handed Sandberg over to one of the back-up team and continued her passage through the apartment until she opened the last door at the very back. According to the blueprints, this was a small cubbyhole looking out on to the courtyard. She stopped in the doorway and looked at the most emaciated figure she had ever seen. She did not for one second doubt that here was a person who was mortally ill.

“Fredrik Clinton, you are under arrest as an accomplice to murder, attempted murder, and for a long list of further crimes,” she said. “Stay where you are in bed. We’ve called an ambulance to take you to Kungsholmen.”

Malm was stationed immediately outside the building on Artillerigatan. Unlike Cortez, he knew how to handle his digital Nikon. He used a short telephoto lens and the pictures he took were of excellent quality.

They showed the members of the Section, one by one, being led out through the front door and down to the police cars. And finally the ambulance that arrived to pick up Clinton. His eyes were fixed on the lens as the shutter clicked. Clinton looked nervous and confused.

The photograph later won the Picture of the Year award.

CHAPTER 27

FRIDAY, 15.VII

Judge Iversen banged his gavel at 12.30 and decreed that district court proceedings were thereby resumed. He noticed that a third person had appeared at Advokat Giannini’s table. It was Holger Palmgren in a wheelchair.

“Hello, Holger,” Judge Iversen said. “I haven’t seen you in a courtroom in quite a while.”

“Good day to you, Judge Iversen. Some cases are so complicated that these younger lawyers need a little assistance.”

“I thought you had retired.”

“I’ve been ill. But Advokat Giannini engaged me as assistant counsel in this case.”

“I see.”

Giannini cleared her throat.

“It is germane to the case that Advokat Palmgren was until his illness Lisbeth Salander’s guardian.”

“I have no intention of commenting on that matter,” Judge Iversen said.

He nodded to Giannini to begin and she stood up. She had always disliked the Swedish tradition of carrying on court proceedings informally while sitting around a table, almost as though the occasion were a dinner party. She felt better when she could speak standing up.

“I think we should begin with the concluding comments from this morning. Dr Teleborian, what leads you so consistently to dismiss as untrue everything that Lisbeth Salander says?”

“Because her statements so obviously are untrue,” replied Teleborian.

He was relaxed. Giannini turned to the judge.

“Judge Iverson, Dr Teleborian claims that Lisbeth Salander tells lies and that she fantasizes. The defence will now demonstrate that every word in her autobiography is true. We will present copious documentation, both visual and written, as well as the testimony of witnesses. We have now reached the point in this trial when the prosecutor has presented the principal elements of his case… We have listened and we now know the exact nature of the accusations against Lisbeth Salander.”

Giannini’s mouth was suddenly dry and she felt her hands shake. She took a deep breath and sipped her mineral water. Then she placed her hands in a firm grip on the back of the chair so that they would not betray her nervousness.

“From the prosecutor’s presentation we may conclude that he has a great many opinions but a woeful shortage of evidence. He believes that Lisbeth Salander shot Carl-Magnus Lundin in Stallarholmen. He claims that she went to Gosseberga to kill her father. He assumes that my client is a paranoid schizophrenic and mentally ill in every sense. And he bases this assumption on information from a single source, to wit, Dr Peter Teleborian.”

She paused to catch her breath and forced herself to speak slowly.

“As it now stands, the case presented by the prosecutor rests on the testimony of Dr Teleborian. If he is right, then my client would be best served by receiving the expert psychiatric care that both he and the prosecutor are seeking.”

Pause.

“But if Dr Teleborian is wrong, this prosecution case must be seen in a different light. Furthermore, if he is lying, then my client is now, here in this courtroom, being subjected to a violation of her civil rights, a violation that has gone on for many years.”

She turned to face Ekstrom.

“What we shall do this afternoon is to show that your witness is a false witness, and that you as prosecutor have been deceived into accepting these false testimonies.”

Teleborian flashed a smile. He held out his hands and nodded to Giannini, as if applauding her presentation. Giannini now turned to the judge.

“Your honour. I will show that Dr Teleborian’s so-called forensic psychiatric investigation is nothing but a deception from start to finish. I will show that he is lying about Lisbeth Salander. I will show that my client has in the past been subjected to a gross violation of her rights. And I will show that she is just as sane and intelligent as anyone in this room.”

“Excuse me, but –” Ekstrom began.

“Just a moment.” She raised a finger. “I have for two days allowed you to talk uninterrupted. Now it’s my turn.”

She turned back to Judge Iversen.

“I would not make so serious an accusation before the court if I did not have ample evidence to support it.”

“By all means, continue,” the judge said. “But I don’t want to hear any long-winded conspiracy theories. Bear in mind that you can be charged with slander for statements that are made before a court.”

“Thank you. I will bear that in mind.”

She turned to Teleborian. He still seemed entertained by the situation.

“The defence has repeatedly asked to be allowed to examine Lisbeth Salander’s medical records from the time when she, in her early teens, was committed to your care at St Stefan’s. Why have we not been shown those records?”

“Because a district court decreed that they were classified. That decision was made out of solicitude for

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