Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [188]
Berger stared at the screen as she tried to work out what Salander was getting at.
Why am I not surprised?
Berger hesitated for ten seconds. Open up S.M.P. to … what? A complete loony? Salander might be innocent of murder, but she was definitely not normal.
But what did she have to lose?
Berger followed the instruction.
It took three minutes.
Berger stared in fascination at the screen as her computer slowly rebooted. She wondered whether she was mad. Then her I.C.Q. pinged.
Figuerola woke at 8.00 on Saturday morning, about two hours later than usual. She sat up in bed and looked at the man beside her. He was snoring. Well, nobody’s perfect.
She wondered where this affair with Blomkvist was going to lead. He was obviously not the faithful type, so no point in looking forward to a long-term relationship. She knew that much from his biography. Anyway, she was not so sure she wanted a stable relationship herself – with a partner and a mortgage and kids. After a dozen failed relationships since her teens, she was tending towards the theory that stability was overrated. Her longest had been with a colleague in Uppsala – they had shared an apartment for two years.
But she was not someone who went in for one-night stands, although she did think that sex was an underrated therapy for just about all ailments. And sex with Blomkvist, out of shape as he was, was just fine. More than just fine, actually. Plus, he was a good person. He made her want more.
A summer romance? A love affair? Was she in love?
She went to the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth. Then she put on her shorts and a thin jacket and quietly left the apartment. She stretched and went on a 45-minute run out past Rålambshov hospital and around Fredhäll and back via Smedsudden. She was home by 9.00 and discovered Blomkvist still asleep. She bent down and bit him on the ear. He opened his eyes in bewilderment.
“Good morning, darling. I need somebody to scrub my back.”
He looked at her and mumbled something.
“What did you say?”
“You don’t need to take a shower. You’re soaked to the skin already.”
“I’ve been running. You should come along.”
“If I tried to go at your pace, I’d have a heart attack on Norr Mälarstrand.”
“Nonsense. Come on, time to get up.”
He scrubbed her back and soaped her shoulders. And her hips. And her stomach. And her breasts. And after a while she had completely lost interest in her shower and pulled him back to bed.
They had their coffee at the pavement café beside Norr Mälarstrand.
“You could turn out to be a bad habit,” she said. “And we’ve only known each other a few days.”
“I find you incredibly attractive. But you know that already.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Sorry, can’t answer that question. I’ve never understood why I’m attracted to one woman and totally uninterested in another.”
She smiled thoughtfully. “I have today off,” she said.
“But not me. I have a mountain of work before the trial begins, and I’ve spent the last three evenings with you instead of getting on with it.”
“What a shame.”
He stood up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She took hold of his shirtsleeve.
“Blomkvist, I’d like to spend some more time with you.”
“Same here. But it’s going to be a little up and down until we put this story to bed.”
He walked away down Hantverkargatan.
Berger got some coffee and watched the screen. For fifty-three minutes absolutely nothing happened except that her screen saver started up from time to time. Then her I.C.Q. pinged again.
But Salander was gone from her I.C.Q. Berger stared at the screen in frustration. Finally she turned off the computer and went out to find a café where she could sit and think.
CHAPTER 20
Saturday, 4.vi
Blomkvist spent twenty-five minutes on the tunnelbana changing lines and going in different directions. He finally got off a bus at Slussen, jumped on the Katarina lift up to Mosebacke and took a circuitous route to Fiskargatan 9. He had bought bread, milk and cheese at the mini supermarket next to the County Council building and he put