The Girl who played with Fire

Salander rolled onto her back.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re sitting in front of your computer all day. That’s why your back hurts.”

“I just pulled a muscle.”

They were lying naked in Mimmi’s bed on Lundagatan, drinking red wine and feeling silly. Since Salander had resumed her friendship with Mimmi, it was as if she couldn’t get enough of her. It had become a bad habit to call her every day – much too often. She looked at Mimmi and reminded herself not to get too close to anyone again. It might end with someone getting hurt.

Mimmi leaned over the edge of the bed and opened the drawer of her bedside table. She took out a small flat package wrapped in flowered paper with a gold bow and tossed it into Lisbeth’s lap.

“What’s this?”

“Your birthday present.”

“My birthday’s more than a month away.”

“It’s your present from last year, but I couldn’t find you.”

“Should I open it?”

“If you feel like it.”

She put down her wineglass, shook the package, and opened it carefully. She drew out a beautiful cigarette case with a lid of blue and black enamel and some tiny Chinese characters as decoration.

“You really should stop smoking,” Mimmi said. “But if you won’t, at least you can keep your cigarettes in a pretty box.”

“Thank you,” Salander said. “You’re the only person who ever gives me birthday presents. What do the characters mean?”

“How on earth would I know that? I don’t understand Chinese. I just found it at the flea market.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s just some cheap nothing, but it looked as if it was made for you. We’ve run out of wine. You want to go out and get a beer?”

“Does that mean we have to leave the bed and get dressed?”

“I’m afraid so. But what’s the point of living in Soder if you can’t go to a bar now and then?”

Salander sighed.

“Come on,” Mimmi said, pointing at the jewel in Salander’s navel. “We can come back here afterwards.”

Salander sighed again, but she put one foot on the floor and reached for her underwear.

Svensson was working late at the desk he had been assigned in a corner of the Millennium offices when he heard the rattle of a key in the door. He looked at the clock and saw that it was past 9:00 p.m. Blomkvist seemed surprised to find someone still working there.

“The lamp of diligence and all that, Mikael. I’m fine – tuning the book and I lost track of time. What are you doing here?”

“Just stopped by to pick up a file I forgot. Is everything going well?”

“Sure… Well, actually no… I’ve spent three weeks trying to track down Bjorck from Sapo. He seems to have vanished without a trace. Perhaps he’s been kidnapped by some enemy secret service.”

Blomkvist pulled up a chair and sat thinking for a moment.

“Have you tried the old lottery trick?”

“What’s that?”

“Think of a name, write a letter saying that he’s won a mobile telephone with a GPS navigator, or whatever. Print it out so it looks official and post it to his address – in this case that P.O. box he has. He’s already won the mobile, a brand-new Nokia. But more than that, he’s one of twenty people who can go on to win 100,000 kronor. All he has to do is take part in a marketing study for various products. The session will take about an hour and be done by a professional interviewer. And then… well.”

Svensson stared at Blomkvist, openmouthed. “Are you serious?”

“Why not? You’ve tried everything else, and even a spook from Sapo should be able to figure out that the odds of winning a hundred grand are pretty good if he’s one of only twenty people on the list.”

Svensson laughed out loud. “You’re nuts. Is that legal?”

“I can’t imagine it’s illegal to give away a mobile telephone.”

“You really are out of your mind.”

Svensson kept laughing. Blomkvist hesitated a moment. He was actually on his way home and seldom went to bars, but he liked Svensson’s company.

“Do you feel like going out for a beer?” he said.

Svensson looked again at the clock.

“Why not?” he said. “Gladly. A quick one. Let me leave a message for Mia. She’s out with the girls and was going to pick me up on her way home.”

They went to Kvarnen, mostly because it was comfortable and close by. Svensson chuckled as he composed the letter to Bjorck at Security Police HQ. Blomkvist looked dubiously at his easily amused colleague. They were lucky enough to get a table near the door. Each of them ordered a large glass of strong beer, and with their heads together they began to drink and discuss Svensson’s book.

Blomkvist did not see Salander standing at the bar with Miriam Wu. Salander took a step back to put Mimmi between her and Blomkvist. She looked at him from behind Mimmi’s shoulder.

She had not been in a bar since she came back and – just her luck – she had to run into him. Kalle Fucking Blomkvist. It was the first time she had seen him in more than a year.

“What’s wrong?” Mimmi said.

“Nothing.”

They kept talking. Or rather, Mimmi went on with her story about a dyke she had met on a trip to London a few years back. She had been visiting an art gallery and the situation had gotten funnier and funnier as Mimmi tried to pick her up. Salander nodded now and then, but as usual missed the point of the story.

Blomkvist had not changed much, she decided. He looked absurdly well-approachable and relaxed, but with a grave expression. He was listening to what his companion was saying, nodding now and then. It seemed to be a serious discussion.

Salander looked at Blomkvist’s friend. A man with a blond crew cut several years younger than Blomkvist, who was talking intently. She had no idea who he was.

All of a sudden a whole group came up to Blomkvist’s table and shook hands with him. Blomkvist got a pat on the cheek from a woman who said something everyone else laughed at. Blomkvist looked self-conscious, but he laughed too.

Salander scowled.

“You’re not listening to what I’m saying,” Mimmi said.

“Of course I am.”

“You’re terrible company in a bar. I give up. Should we go home and fuck instead?”

“In a bit,” Salander said.

She moved a little closer to Mimmi and put a hand on her hip.

Mimmi looked down at her partner and said, “I feel like kissing you on the mouth.”

“Don’t do it.”

“Are you afraid people will think you’re a dyke?”

“I don’t want to attract attention right now.”

“Let’s go home then.”

“Not yet. Wait a while.”

They did not have long to wait. Twenty minutes after they arrived, the man Blomkvist was with got a call on his mobile. They drained their glasses and stood up simultaneously.

“Check it out,” Mimmi said. “That guy over there is Mikael Blomkvist. He was more famous than a rock star after the Wennerstrom affair.”

“You don’t say.”