The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest

“I don’t know. But they were in there for forty-nine minutes. My guess is that Faulsson opened the door and Martensson spent the time in Blomkvist’s apartment.”

“And what did they do there?”

“It couldn’t have been to plant bugs, because that takes only a minute or so. Martensson must have been looking through Blomkvist’s papers or whatever else he keeps at his place.”

“But Blomkvist has already been warned… they stole Bjorck’s report from there.”

“Quite right. He knows he’s being watched, and he’s watching the ones who are watching him. He’s calculating.”

“Calculating what?”

“I mean, he has a plan. He’s gathering information and is going to expose Martensson. That’s the only reasonable explanation.”

“And then this Linder woman?”

“Susanne Linder, former police officer.”

“Police officer?”

“She graduated from the police academy and worked for six years on the Sodermalm crime team. She resigned abruptly. There’s nothing in her file that says why. She was out of a job for several months before she was hired by Milton Security.”

“Armansky,” Edklinth said thoughtfully. “How long was she in the building?”

“Nine minutes.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m guessing – since she was filming Martensson and Faulsson on the street – that she’s documenting their activities. That means that Milton Security is working with Blomkvist and has placed surveillance cameras in his apartment or in the stairwell. She probably went in to collect the film.”

Edklinth sighed. The Zalachenko story was beginning to get tremendously complicated.

“Thank you. You go home. I have to think about this.”

Figuerola went to the gym at St Eriksplan.

Blomkvist used his second mobile when he punched in Berger’s number at S.M.P. He interrupted a discussion she was having with her editors about what angle to give an article on international terrorism.

“Oh, hello, it’s you… wait a second.”

Berger put her hand over the mouthpiece.

“I think we’re done,” she said, and gave them one last instruction. When she was alone she said: “Hello, Mikael. Sorry not to have been in touch. I’m just so swamped here. There are a thousand things I’ve got to learn. How’s the Salander stuff going?”

“Good. But that’s not why I called. I have to see you. Tonight.”

“I wish I could, but I have to be here until 8.00. And I’m dead tired. I’ve been at it since dawn. What’s it about?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you. But it’s not good.”

“I’ll come to your place at 8.30.”

“No. Not at mine. It’s a long story, but my apartment is unsuitable for the time being. Let’s meet at Samir’s Cauldron for a beer.”

“I’m driving.”

“Then we’ll have a light beer.”

Berger was slightly annoyed when she walked into Samir’s Cauldron. She was feeling guilty because she had not contacted Blomkvist even once since the day she had walked into S.M.P.

Blomkvist waved from a corner table. She stopped in the doorway. For a second he seemed a stranger. Who’s that over there? God, I’m so tired. Then he stood and kissed her on the cheek, and she realized to her dismay that she had not even thought about him for several weeks and that she missed him terribly. It was as though her time at S.M.P. had been a dream and she might suddenly wake up on the sofa at Millennium. It felt unreal.

“Hello, Mikael.”

“Hello, editor-in-chief. Have you eaten?”

“It’s 8.30. I don’t have your disgusting eating habits.”

Samir came over with the menu and, she realised she was hungry. She ordered a beer and a small plate of calamari with Greek potatoes. Blomkvist ordered couscous and a beer.

“How are you?” she said.

“These are interesting times we’re living in. I’m swamped too.”

“And Salander?”

“She’s part of what makes it so interesting.”

“Micke, I’m not going to steal your story.”

“I’m not trying to evade your question. The truth is that right now everything is a little confused. I’d love to tell you the whole thing, but it would take half the night. How do you like being editor-in-chief?”

“It’s not exactly Millennium. I fall asleep like a blown-out candle as soon as I get home, and when I wake up, I see spreadsheets before my eyes. I’ve missed you. Can’t we go back to your place and sleep? I don’t have the energy for sex, but I’d love to curl up and sleep next to you.”

“I’m sorry, Ricky. The apartment isn’t a good place right now.”

“Why not? Has something happened?”

“Well, some spooks have bugged the place and they listen, presumably, to every word I say. I’ve had cameras installed to record what happens when I’m not home. I don’t think we should let the state archives have footage of your naked self.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No. But that wasn’t why I had to see you tonight.”

“What is it? Tell me.”

“Well, I’ll be very direct. We’ve come across a story that will sink your chairman. It’s about using child labour and exploiting political prisoners in Vietnam. We’re looking at a conflict of interest.”

Berger put down her fork and stared at him. She saw at once that he was not being funny.

“This is how things stand,” he said. “Borgsjo is chairman and majority shareholder of a company called Svea Construction, which in turn is sole owner of a subsidiary called Vitavara Inc. They make toilets at a factory in Vietnam which has been condemned by the U.N. for using child labour.”

“Run that by me again.”

Blomkvist told her the details of the story that Cortez had compiled. He opened his laptop bag and took out a copy of the documentation. Berger read slowly through the article. Finally she looked up and met Blomkvist’s eyes. She felt unreasoning panic mixed with disbelief.

“Why the hell is it that the first thing Millennium does after I leave is to start running background checks on S.M.P.’s board members?”

“That’s not what happened, Ricky.” He explained how the story had developed.

“And how long have you known about this?”

“Since today, since this afternoon. I feel deeply uncomfortable about how this has unfolded.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. We have to publish. We can’t make an exception just because it deals with your boss. But not one of us wants to hurt you.” He threw up his hands. “We are all extremely unhappy about the situation. Henry especially.”

“I’m still a member of Millennium’s board. I’m a part-owner… it’s going to be viewed as –”

“I know exactly how it’s going to be viewed. You’re going to land in a shitload of trouble at S.M.P.”

Berger felt weariness settling over her. She clenched her teeth and stifled an impulse to ask Blomkvist to sit