The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest (69 page)

“Monica and I met during the investigation. She’s my contact at SIS.”

“I understand,” Berger said, and she began to shake as suddenly the shock set in.

Figuerola stared hard at Berger.

“What went wrong?” Blomkvist said.

“We misinterpreted the reason for the cocaine,” Figuerola said. “We thought they were setting a trap for you, to create a scandal. Now we know they wanted to kill you. They were going to let the police find the cocaine when they went through your apartment.”

“What cocaine?” Berger said.

Blomkvist closed his eyes for a moment.

“Take me to St. Göran’s,” he said.

•    •    •

“Arrested?” Clinton barked. He felt a butterfly-light pressure around his heart.

“We think it’s all right,” Nyström said. “It seems to have been sheer bad luck.”

“Bad luck?”

“Miro Nikolich was wanted on some old assault story. A policeman from the gangs unit happened to recognize him when he went into Samir’s Cauldron and wanted to arrest him. Nikolich panicked and tried to shoot his way out.”

“And Blomkvist?”

“He wasn’t involved. We don’t even know if he was in the restaurant at the time.”

“This cannot be fucking true,” Clinton said. “What do the Nikolich brothers know?”

“About us? Nothing. They think Björck and Blomkvist were both hits that had to do with trafficking.”

“But they know that Blomkvist was the target?”

“Sure, but they’re hardly going to start blabbing about being hired to do a hit. They’ll keep their mouths shut all the way to district court. They’ll do time for possession of illegal weapons and, as like as not, for resisting arrest.”

“Those damned fuck-ups,” Clinton said.

“Well, they seriously screwed up. We’ve had to let Blomkvist give us the slip for the moment, but no harm was actually done.”

It was 11:00 by the time Linder and two hefty bodyguards from Milton Security’s personal protection unit collected Blomkvist and Berger from Kungsholmen.

“You really do get around,” Linder said.

“Sorry,” Berger said gloomily.

Berger had been in a state of shock as they drove to St. Göran’s. It had dawned on her all of a sudden that both she and Blomkvist had very nearly been killed.

Blomkvist had spent an hour in the ER having his head X-rayed and his face bandaged. His left middle finger was put in a splint. The end joint was badly bruised and he would lose the fingernail. Ironically, the main injury was caused when Andersson came to his rescue and pulled Nikolich off him. Blomkvist’s middle finger had been caught in the trigger guard of the
M/45 and had snapped straight across. It hurt a lot, but the injury was hardly life-threatening.

For Blomkvist the shock did not set in until two hours later, when he had arrived at Constitutional Protection at SIS and reported to Inspector Bublanski and Prosecutor Gustavsson. He began to shiver and felt so tired that he almost fell asleep between questions. At that point a certain amount of palavering ensued.

“We don’t know what they’re planning, and we have no idea whether Mikael was the only intended victim,” Figuerola said. “Or whether Erika here was supposed to die too. We don’t know if they will try again or if anyone else at
Millennium
is being targeted. And why not kill Salander? After all, she’s the truly serious threat to the Section.”

“I called my colleagues at
Millennium
while Mikael was being patched up,” Berger said. “Everyone’s going to lie extremely low until the magazine comes out. The office will be left unstaffed.”

Edklinth’s immediate reaction had been to order bodyguard protection for Blomkvist and Berger. But on reflection he and Figuerola decided that it would not be the smartest move to contact SIS’s Personal Protection unit. Berger solved the problem by declining police protection. She called Armansky to explain what had happened, which was why, later that night, Linder was called in for duty.

Blomkvist and Berger were lodged on the top floor of a safe house just beyond Drottningholm on the road to Ekerö. It was a large 1930s villa overlooking Lake Mälaren. It had an impressive garden, outbuildings, and extensive grounds. The estate was owned by Milton Security, but Martina Sjögren lived there. She was the widow of Hans Sjögren, their colleague of many years, who had died in an accident on assignment fifteen years earlier. After the funeral, Armansky had talked with Fru Sjögren and then hired her as housekeeper and general caretaker of the property. She lived rent-free in a wing of the ground floor and kept the top floor ready for those occasions, a few times each year, when Milton Security needed to hide away individuals who for real or imagined reasons feared for their safety.

Figuerola went with them. She sank onto a chair in the kitchen and allowed Fru Sjögren to serve her coffee, while Berger and Blomkvist settled in upstairs and Linder checked the alarm and electronic surveillance equipment around the property.

“There are toothbrushes and so on in the chest of drawers outside the bathroom,” Sjögren called up the stairs.

Linder and Milton’s bodyguards installed themselves in rooms on the ground floor.

“I’ve been on the go ever since I was woken at 4:00,” Linder said. “You can put together a watch schedule, but let me sleep till at least 5:00.”

“You can sleep all night. We’ll take care of this,” one of the bodyguards said.

“Thanks,” Linder said, and she went straight to bed.

Figuerola listened absent-mindedly as the bodyguards switched on the motion detector in the courtyard and drew straws to see who would take the first watch. The one who lost made himself a sandwich and went into the TV room next to the kitchen. Figuerola studied the flowery coffee cups. She too had been on the go since early morning and was feeling fairly exhausted. She was just thinking about driving home when Berger came downstairs and poured herself a cup of coffee. She sat down across from Figuerola.

“Mikael went out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow.”

“Reaction to the adrenaline,” Figuerola said.

“What happens now?”

“You’ll have to lie low for a few days. Within a week this will all be over, whichever way it ends. How are you feeling?”

“So-so. A bit shaky still. It’s not every day something like this happens. I just called my husband to explain why I wouldn’t be coming home.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m married to—”

“I know who you’re married to.”

Silence. Figuerola rubbed her eyes and yawned.

“I have to go home and get some sleep,” she said.

“Oh, for God’s sake, stop talking nonsense and go and lie down with Mikael,” Berger said.

Figuerola looked at her.

“Is it that obvious?” she said.

Berger nodded.

“Did Mikael say anything?”

“Not a word. He’s generally rather discreet when it comes to his lady friends. But sometimes he’s an open book. And you’re clearly hostile every time you even look at me. The two of you obviously have something to hide.”

“It’s my boss,” Figuerola said.

“Where does he come into it?”

“He’d fly off the handle if he knew that Mikael and I were—”

“I can see that.”

Silence.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I’m not your rival,” Berger said.

“You’re not?”

“Mikael and I sleep together now and then. But I’m not married to him.”

“I heard that you two had a special relationship. He told me about you when we were out at Sandhamn.”

“So you’ve been to Sandhamn? Then it
is
serious.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Monica, I hope that you and Mikael . . . I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

“And if you can’t?”

Berger shrugged. “His ex-wife flipped out big time when Mikael was unfaithful with me. She threw him out. It was my fault. As long as Mikael is single and available, I would have no compunction. But I promised myself that if he was ever serious about someone, then I’d keep my distance.”

“I don’t know if I dare count on him.”

“Mikael is special. Are you in love with him?”

“I think so.”

“All right, then. Just don’t tell him too soon. Now go to bed.”

Figuerola thought about it for a moment. Then she went upstairs, undressed, and crawled into bed next to Blomkvist. He mumbled something and put his arm around her waist.

Berger sat alone in the kitchen for a long time. She felt deeply unhappy.

Blomkvist had always wondered why the loudspeakers in the district court were so faint, discreet almost. He could hardly make out the words of the announcement that the trial of Lisbeth Salander would begin in courtroom 5 at 10:00. But he had arrived in plenty of time and positioned himself to wait right by the entrance to the courtroom. He was one of the first to be let in. He chose a seat in the public gallery on the left-hand side of the room, where he would have the best view of the defence table. The seats filled up fast. Media interest had steadily increased in the weeks leading up to the trial, and over the past week Prosecutor Ekström had been interviewed daily.

Lisbeth Salander was charged with aggravated assault in the case of Carl-Magnus Lundin; with unlawful threats, attempted murder, and aggravated assault in the case of Karl Axel Bodin, alias Alexander Zalachenko, now deceased; with two counts of breaking and entering—the first at the summer cabin of the deceased lawyer Nils Erik Bjurman in Stallarholmen, the second at Bjurman’s home on Odenplan; with the theft of a vehicle—a Harley-Davidson owned by one Sonny Nieminen of Svavelsjö MC; with three counts of possession of illegal weapons—a canister of Mace, a Taser, and a Polish P-83 Wanad, all found in Gosseberga; with the theft of or withholding of evidence—the formulation was imprecise but it referred to the documentation she had found in Bjurman’s summer cabin; and with a number of further misdemeanours. In all, sixteen charges had been filed against Lisbeth Salander.

Ekström had been busy.

He had also leaked information indicating that Salander’s mental state
was cause for alarm. He cited first the forensic psychiatric report by Dr. Jesper H. Löderman that had been compiled at the time of her eighteenth birthday, and second, a report which, in accordance with a decision by the district court at a preliminary hearing, had been written by Dr. Peter Teleborian. Since the mentally ill girl had, true to form, refused categorically to speak to psychiatrists, the analysis was made on the basis of “observations” carried out while she was detained at Kronoberg prison in Stockholm during the month before her trial. Teleborian, who had many years of experience with the patient, had determined that Salander was suffering from a serious mental disturbance and employed terms such as
psychopathy, pathological narcissism
, and
paranoid schizophrenia
.

The press had also reported that seven police interviews had been conducted with Salander. At each of these interviews the defendant had declined even to say good morning to those who were leading the interrogation. The first few interviews had been conducted by the Göteborg police; the remainder had taken place at police headquarters in Stockholm. The tape recordings of the interview protocol revealed that the police had used every means of persuasion and repeated questioning, but had not received the favour of a single reply.

She had not even bothered to clear her throat.

Occasionally Advokat Giannini’s voice could be heard on the tapes, at such points as she realized that her client evidently was not going to answer any questions. The charges against Salander were accordingly based exclusively on forensic evidence and on whatever facts the police investigation had been able to determine.

Salander’s silence had at times placed her defence lawyer in an awkward position, since she was compelled to be almost as silent as her client. What Giannini and Salander discussed in private was confidential.

Ekström made no secret of the fact that his primary objective was secure psychiatric care for the defendant; of secondary interest to him was a substantial prison sentence. The normal process was the reverse, but he believed that in her case there were such transparent mental disturbances and such an unequivocal forensic psychiatric assessment that he was left with no alternative. It was highly unusual for a court to decide against a forensic psychiatric assessment.

He also believed that Salander’s declaration of incompetence should not be rescinded. In an interview he had explained with a concerned expression that in Sweden there were a number of sociopaths with such grave mental disturbances that they presented a danger to themselves as well as to others, and modern medicine could offer no alternative to keeping
these individuals safely locked up. He cited the case from the seventies of a violent girl who had been a frequent focus of attention in the media, and who thirty years later was still in a secure psychiatric institution. Every endeavour to ease the restrictions had resulted in her launching reckless and violent attacks on relatives and caretakers, or in attempts to injure herself. Ekström was of the view that Salander suffered from a similar form of psychopathic disturbance.

Media interest had also increased for the simple reason that Salander’s defence lawyer, Annika Giannini, had made not a single statement to the press. She had refused all requests to be interviewed, so that members of the media were, as they many times put it, “unable to have an opportunity to present the views of the other side of the case.” Journalists were therefore in a difficult situation: the prosecution kept on shovelling out information while the defence, uncharacteristically, gave not the slightest hint of Salander’s reaction to the charges against her, nor of what strategy the defence might employ.

This state of affairs was commented on by the legal expert engaged to follow the trial in one of the evening newspapers. The expert had stated in his column that Advokat Giannini was a respected women’s rights lawyer, but that she had absolutely no experience in criminal law outside this case. He concluded that she was unsuitable for the purpose of defending Salander. From his sister Blomkvist had also learned that several distinguished lawyers had offered their services. Giannini had, on behalf of her client, courteously turned down every such proposal.