“That’s not much of a sound bite.”
“That’s all you’re getting, and it’s more than any other paper will get. You run the whole quote or nothing.”
Blomkvist went back to his iBook. He thought for a minute and then wrote:
Dear Lisbeth,
I’m writing this letter and leaving it on my hard drive knowing that sooner or later you’ll read it. I remember the way you took over Wennerstrom’s hard drive two years ago and suspect that you also made sure to hack my machine. It’s clear that you don’t want to have anything to do with me now. I don’t intend to ask why and you don’t have to explain.
The events of the past few days have linked us again, whether you like it or not. The police are saying that you murdered two people I was very fond of. I was the one who discovered Dag and Mia minutes after they were shot. I don’t think it was you who shot them. I certainly hope it wasn’t. The police claim you’re a psychotic killer, but that would mean that I totally misjudged you or that you’ve changed dramatically over the past year. And if you’re not the murderer, then the police are chasing the wrong person.
In this situation I should probably urge you to turn yourself in to the police, but I suspect I’d be wasting my breath. Sooner or later you’re going to be found, and when that happens you’re going to need a friend. You may not want to have anything to do with me, but I have a sister called Annika Giannini and she’s a lawyer. The best. She’s willing to represent you if you get in touch with her. You can trust her.
As far as
One problem I have is that I don’t understand how Nils Bjurman fits into the picture. He isn’t mentioned anywhere in Dag’s material, and I can’t fathom any connection between him and Dag and Mia.
Help me. Please. What’s the connection?
Mikael.
P.S. You should get a new passport photo. That one doesn’t do you justice.
He named the document [To Sally]. Then he created a folder that he named and put an icon for it on the desktop of his iBook.
On Tuesday morning Armansky called a meeting in his office at Milton Security. He had brought in three people.
Johan Fraklund, a former criminal inspector with the Solna police, was the chief of Milton’s operations unit. He had overall responsibility for planning and analysis. Armansky had recruited him ten years earlier and had come to regard him, now in his early sixties, as one of the company’s most valuable assets.
Armansky also called in Sonny Bohman and Niklas Hedstrom. Bohman too was a former policeman. He had received his training in the Norrmalm armed response squad in the eighties and then moved to the violent crimes division, where he had led a dozen dramatic investigations. During the rampage of the “Laser Man” sniper in the early nineties, Bohman had been one of the key players, and in 1997 he had moved to Milton only after a great deal of persuasion and the offer of a significantly higher salary.
Niklas Hedstrom was regarded as a rookie. He had been trained at the police academy, but just before he was due to take his final exams he learned that he had a congenital heart defect. This not only required a major operation but also meant that his police career was already at an end.
Fraklund, who had been a contemporary of Hedstrom’s father, had suggested to Armansky that they give him a chance. Since there was a position free in the analysis unit, Armansky approved the recruitment, and he had never had cause to regret it. Hedstrom had worked for Milton for five years. He might lack field experience, but he stood out as a sharp-witted intellectual asset.
“Good morning, everyone. Take a seat and start reading,” Armansky said. He handed out three folders with some fifty photocopied pages of press cuttings about the hunt for Salander, along with Armansky’s three-page summary of her background. Hedstrom finished reading first and put the folder down. Armansky waited until Bohman and Fraklund were done.
“I presume none of you gentlemen has missed seeing the headlines in the papers over the weekend.”
“Lisbeth Salander,” Fraklund said in a gloomy voice.
Bohman shook his head.
Hedstrom stared into space with an inscrutable expression and the hint of a sad smile.
Armansky gave the trio a searching look.
“One of our employees,” he said. “How well did you get to know her when she worked here?”
“I tried a little light banter with her once,” Hedstrom said, again with a hint of a smile. “It didn’t go so well. I thought she was going to bite my head off. She was a first-class sourpuss, and I hardly exchanged ten sentences with her.”
“I found her seriously odd,” Fraklund said.
Bohman shrugged. “She was a real pain to deal with. I knew she was weird, but not that she was this fucking crazy.”
“She did things her own way,” Armansky said. “She wasn’t easy to handle. But I trusted her because she was the best researcher I’ve ever come across. She delivered results beyond expectation every time.”
“I never understood that,” Fraklund said. “I couldn’t figure out how she could be so incredibly skilled and at the same time so hopeless socially.”
“The explanation, of course, lies in her mental state,” Armansky said, poking at one of the folders. “She was declared incompetent.”
“I didn’t have a clue about that,” Hedstrom said. “I mean, she didn’t wear a sign on her back. And you never said anything.”
“No,” Armansky said. “I didn’t think she needed to be any more stigmatized than she already was. Everybody deserves a chance.”
“And the result of that experiment is what we saw happen in Enskede,” Bohman said.
“Could be,” Armansky said.
He did not want to betray his weakness for Salander in front of these three professionals who were now watching him expectantly. They had adopted quite a neutral tone during the conversation, but Armansky knew that Salander was in fact detested by all three of them, as well as by the rest of the employees at Milton Security. He did not want to come across as soft or confused. It was important to present the matter in a way that created a measure of enthusiasm and professionalism.
“I’ve decided for the first time ever to utilize some of Milton’s resources for a purely internal matter,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be a big expense in the budget, but I’m thinking of releasing you two, Bohman and Hedstrom, from your present duties. Your assignment, although I may be formulating it a bit vaguely, is to ‘establish the truth’ about Lisbeth Salander.”
Both men gave Armansky a sceptical look.
“I want you, Fraklund, to lead and keep track of the investigation. I want to know what happened and what would have induced Salander to murder her guardian as well as the couple in Enskede. There has to be a rational explanation.”
“Forgive my saying so, but this sounds like a job for the police,” Fraklund said.
“No question,” Armansky shot back. “But we have an advantage over the police. We knew Salander, and we have an insight into how she functions.”
“Well, if you say so,” Bohman said, sounding unsure. “I don’t believe anyone here at the firm has any idea what went on in her little head.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Armansky said. “Salander worked for Milton Security. In my view, we have a responsibility to establish the truth.”
“Salander hasn’t worked for us in… what is it, almost two years,” Fraklund said. “I don’t see us as responsible for what she may have done. And I don’t think the police would appreciate it if we interfered in their investigation.”
