She heard footsteps outside the door and saw a nurse open it to admit a woman wearing black trousers, a white blouse, and a dark jacket. She was a pretty, slender woman with dark hair and a boyish hairstyle. She radiated a cheerful confidence. She was carrying a black briefcase. Salander saw at once that she had the same eyes as Blomkvist.
“Hello, Lisbeth. I’m Annika Giannini,” she said. “May I come in?”
Salander studied her without expression. All of a sudden she did not have the slightest desire to meet Blomkvist’s sister and regretted that she had accepted this woman as her lawyer.
Giannini came in, shut the door behind her, and pulled up a chair. She sat there for some time, looking at her client.
The girl looked terrible. Her head was wrapped in bandages. She had purple bruises around her bloodshot eyes.
“Before we begin to discuss anything, I have to know whether you really do want me to be your lawyer. Normally I’m involved in civil cases in which I represent victims of rape or domestic violence. I’m not a criminal defence lawyer. I have, however, studied the details of your case, and I would very much like to represent you, if I may. I should also tell you that Mikael Blomkvist is my brother – I think you already know that – and that he and Dragan Armansky are paying my fee.”
She paused, but when she got no response she continued.
“If you want me to be your lawyer, it’s you I will be working for. Not for my brother or for Armansky. I have to tell you too that I will receive advice and support during any trial from your former guardian, Holger Palmgren. He’s a tough old boy, and he dragged himself out of his sickbed to help you.”
“Palmgren?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen him?”
“Yes.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s absolutely furious, but strangely he doesn’t seem to be at all worried about you.”
Salander smiled lopsidedly. It was the first time she had smiled at Sahlgrenska hospital.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like a sack of shit.”
“Well then. Do you want me to be your lawyer? Armansky and Mikael are paying my fee and –”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’ll pay your fee myself. I don’t want a single ore from Armansky or Kalle Blomkvist. But I can’t pay before I have access to the Internet.”
“I understand. We’ll deal with that problem when it arises. In any case, the state will be paying most of my salary. But do you want me to represent you?”
Salander gave a curt nod.
“Good. Then I’ll get started by giving you a message from Mikael. It sounds a little cryptic, but he says you’ll know what he means.”
“Oh?”
“He wants you to know that he’s told me most of the story, except for a few details, of which the first concerns the skills he discovered in Hedestad.”
“O.K.”
“The other is the D.V.D. I don’t know what he’s referring to, but he was adamant that it’s up to you to decide whether you tell me about it or not. Do you know what he’s referring to?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good, then.” Giannini was suddenly hesitant. “I’m a little miffed at my brother. Even though he hired me, he’ll only tell me what he feels like telling me. Do you intend to hide things from me too?”
“I don’t know. Could we leave that question for later?” Salander said.
“Certainly. We’re going to be talking to each other quite a lot. I don’t have time for a long conversation now – I have to meet Prosecutor Jervas in forty-five minutes. I just wanted to confirm that you really do want me to be your lawyer. But there’s something else I need to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“It’s this: if I’m not present, you’re not to say a single word to the police, no matter what they ask you. Even if they provoke you or accuse you of whatever… Can you promise me?”
“I could manage that.”
Gullberg had been completely exhausted after all his efforts on Monday. He did not wake until 9.00 on Tuesday morning, four hours later than usual. He went to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. He stood for a long time looking at his face in the mirror before he turned off the light and went to get dressed. He chose the only clean shirt he had left in the brown briefcase and put on a brown-patterned tie.
He went down to the hotel’s breakfast room, drank a cup of black coffee and ate a slice of wholemeal toast with cheese and a little marmalade on it. He drank a glass of mineral water.
Then he went to the hotel lobby and called Clinton’s mobile from the public telephone.
“It’s me. Status report?”
“Rather unsettled.”
“Fredrik, can you handle this?”
“Yes, it’s like the old days. But it’s a shame von Rottinger isn’t still with us. He was better at planning operations than I.”
“You were equally good. You could have switched places at any time. Which indeed you quite often did.”
“It’s a matter of intuition. He was always a little sharper.”
“Tell me, how are you all doing?”
“Sandberg is brighter than we thought. We brought in the external help in the form of Martensson. He’s a gofer, but he’s usable. We have taps on Blomkvist’s landline and mobile. We’ll take care of Giannini’s and the
“First thing is to locate all the copies…”
“I’ve already done that. We’ve had some unbelievable luck. Giannini called Blomkvist this morning. She actually asked him how many copies there were in circulation, and it turned out that Blomkvist only has one. Berger copied the report, but she sent the copy on to Bublanski.”
“Good. No time to waste.”
“I know. But it has to be done in one fell swoop. If we don’t lift all the copies simultaneously, it won’t work.”
“True.”
“It’s a bit complicated, since Giannini left for Goteborg this morning. I’ve sent a team of externals to tail her. They’re flying down right now.”
“Good.” Gullberg could not think of anything more to say. “Thanks, Fredrik,” he said at last.
“My pleasure. This is a lot more fun than sitting around waiting for a kidney.”
They said goodbye. Gullberg paid his hotel bill and went out to the street. The ball was in motion. Now it was just a matter of mapping out the moves.
He started by walking to Park Avenue Hotel, where he asked to use the fax machine. He did not want to do it at the hotel where he had been staying. He faxed copies of the letters he had written the day before. Then he went out on to Avenyn to look for a taxi. He stopped at a rubbish bin and tore up the photocopies of his letters.
