Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [196]
“And what’s their stated business?”
“God only knows. They do marketing analyses and have annual sales of around thirty million kronor. All the owners live abroad.”
“Aha.”
“Aha what?”
“Nothing. Just ‘aha’. Do some more checks on Bellona.”
At that moment the officer Blomkvist knew only as Stefan entered the room.
“Hi, chief,” he greeted Edklinth. “This is really cool. I checked out the story behind the Bellona apartment.”
“And?” Figuerola said.
“Bellona Inc. was founded in the ’70s. They bought the apartment from the estate of the former owner, a woman by the name of Kristina Cederholm, born in 1917, married to Hans Wilhelm Francke, the loose cannon who quarrelled with P.G. Vinge at the time S.I.S. was founded.”
“Good,” Edklinth said. “Very good. Monica, we want surveillance on that apartment around the clock. Find out what telephones they have. I want to know who goes in and who comes out, and what vehicles drop anyone off at that address. The usual.”
Edklinth turned to Blomkvist. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he restrained himself. Blomkvist looked at him expectantly.
“Are you satisfied with the information flow?” Edklinth said at last.
“Very satisfied. Are you satisfied with Millennium’s contribution?”
Edklinth nodded reluctantly. “You do know that I could get into very deep water for this.”
“Not because of me. I regard the information that I receive here as source-protected. I’ll report the facts, but I won’t mention how or where I got them. Before I go to press I’m going to do a formal interview with you. If you don’t want to give me an answer to something, you just say ‘No comment’. Or else you could expound on what you think about the Section for Special Analysis. It’s up to you.”
“Indeed,” Edklinth nodded.
Blomkvist was happy. Within a few hours the Section had taken on tangible form. A real breakthrough.
To Modig’s great frustration the meeting in Ekström’s office was lasting a long time. Mercifully someone had left a full bottle of mineral water on the conference table. She had twice texted her husband to tell him that she was still held up, promising to make it up to him as soon as she could get home. She was starting to get restless and felt like an intruder.
The meeting did not end until 7.30. She was taken completely by surprise when the door opened and Faste came out. And then Dr Teleborian. Behind them came an older, grey-haired man Modig had never seen before. Finally Prosecutor Ekström, putting on a jacket as he switched off the lights and locked the door to his office.
Modig held up her mobile to the gap in the curtains and took two low-res photographs of the group outside Ekström’s door. Seconds later they had set off down the corridor.
She held her breath until they were some distance from the conference room in which she was trapped. She was in a cold sweat by the time she heard the door to the stairwell close. She stood up, weak at the knees.
Bublanski called Figuerola just after 8.00.
“You wanted to know if Ekström had a meeting.”
“Correct,” Figuerola said.
“It just ended. Ekström met with Dr Peter Teleborian and my former colleague Criminal Inspector Faste, and an older gentleman we didn’t recognize.”
“Just a moment,” Figuerola said. She put her hand over the mouthpiece and turned to the others. “Teleborian went straight to Ekström.”
“Hello, are you still there?”
“Sorry. Do we have a description of the third man?”
“Even better. I’m sending you a picture.”
“A picture? I’m in your debt.”
“It would help if you’d tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
They sat in silence around the conference table for a moment.
“So,” Edklinth said at last. “Teleborian meets with the Section and then goes directly to see Prosecutor Ekström. I’d give a lot of money to find out what they talked about.”
“Or you could just ask me,” Blomkvist said.
Edklinth and Figuerola looked at him.
“They met to finalize their strategy for nailing Salander at her trial.”
Figuerola gave him a look. Then