Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [101]
“Not you, Johannes. You stay here and sit down.”
She picked up his article and read it one more time.
“You’re here on a temporary basis, I gather.”
“Yes. I’ve been here five months – this is my last week.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“I apologize for putting you in the middle of a duel between me and Holm. Tell me about this story.”
“I got a tip this morning and took it to Holm. He told me to follow up on it.”
“I see. It’s about the police investigating the possibility that Lisbeth Salander was mixed up in the sale of anabolic steroids. Does this story have any connection to yesterday’s article about Södertälje, in which steroids also appeared?”
“Not that I know of, but it’s possible. This thing about steroids has to do with her connection to boxers. Paolo Roberto and his pals.”
“Paolo Roberto uses steroids?”
“What? No, of course not. It’s more about the boxing world in general. Salander used to train at a gym in Söder. But that’s the angle the police are taking. Not me. And somewhere the idea seems to have popped up that she might have been involved in selling steroids.”
“So there’s no actual substance to this story at all, just a rumour?”
“It’s no rumour that the police are looking into the possibility. Whether they’re right or wrong, I have no idea yet.”
“O.K., Johannes. I want you to know that what I’m discussing with you now has nothing to do with my dealings with Holm. I think you’re an excellent reporter. You write well and you have an eye for detail. In short, this is a good story. My problem is that I don’t believe it.”
“I can assure you that it’s quite true.”
“And I have to explain to you why there’s a fundamental flaw in the story. Where did the tip come from?”
“From a source within the police.”
“Who?”
Frisk hesitated. It was an automatic response. Like every other journalist the world over, he was unwilling to name his source. On the other hand, Berger was editor-in-chief and therefore one of the few people who could demand that information from him.
“An officer named Faste in the Violent Crimes Division.”
“Did he call you or did you call him?”
“He called me.”
“Why do you think he called you?”
“I interviewed him a couple of times during the hunt for Salander. He knows who I am.”
“And he knows you’re twenty-seven and a temp and that you’re useful when he wants to plant information that the prosecutor wants put out.”
“Sure, I understand all that. But I get a tip from the police investigation and go over and have a coffee with Faste and he tells me this. He is correctly quoted. What am I supposed to do?”
“I’m persuaded that you quoted him accurately. What should have happened is that you should have taken the information to Holm, who should have knocked on the door of my office and explained the situation, and together we would have decided what to do.”
“I get it. But I—”
“You left the material with Holm, who’s the news editor. You acted correctly. But let’s analyse your article. First of all, why would Faste want to leak this information?”
Frisk shrugged.
“Does that mean that you don’t know, or that you don’t care?”
“I don’t know.”
“If I were to tell you that this story is untrue, and that Salander doesn’t have a thing to do with anabolic steroids, what do you say then?”
“I can’t prove otherwise.”
“No indeed. But you think we should publish a story that might be a lie just because we have no proof that it’s a lie.”
“No, we have a journalistic responsibility. But it’s a balancing act. We can’t refuse to publish when we have a source who makes a specific claim.”
“We can ask why the source might want this information to get out. Let me explain why I gave orders that everything to do with Salander has to cross my desk. I have special knowledge of the subject that no-one else at S.M.P. has. The legal department has been informed that I possess this knowledge but cannot discuss it with them. Millennium is going to publish a story that I am contractually bound not to reveal to S.M.P., despite the fact that I work here. I obtained