Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [220]
“Nothing at all?”
“No. They mention it only when they’re talking with someone outside Millennium. Listen to this, for instance. Blomkvist gets a call from a reporter at Aftonbladet asking whether he has any comment to make on the upcoming trial.”
He put a tape recorder on the table.
“Sorry, but I have no comment.”
“You’ve been involved with the story from the start. You were the one who found Salander down in Gosseberga. And you haven’t published a single word since. When do you intend to publish?”
“When the time is right. Provided I have anything to say.”
“Do you?”
“Well, you can buy a copy of Millennium and see for yourself.”
He turned off the recorder.
“We didn’t think about this before, but I went back and listened to bits at random. It’s been like this the entire time. He hardly discusses the Zalachenko business except in the most general terms. He doesn’t even discuss it with his sister, and she’s Salander’s lawyer.”
“Maybe he really doesn’t have anything to say.”
“He consistently refuses to speculate about anything. He seems to live at the offices round the clock; he’s hardly ever at his apartment. If he’s working night and day, then he ought to have come up with something more substantial than whatever’s going to be in the next issue of Millennium.”
“And we still haven’t been able to tap the phones at their offices?”
“No,” Sandberg said. “There’s been somebody there twenty-four hours a day – and that’s significant – ever since we went into Blomkvist’s apartment the first time. The office lights are always on, and if it’s not Blomkvist it’s Cortez or Eriksson, or that faggot … er, Christer Malm.”
Clinton stroked his chin and thought for a moment.
“Conclusions?”
Nyström said: “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were putting on an act for us.”
Clinton felt a cold shiver run down the back of his neck. “Why hasn’t this occurred to us before?”
“We’ve been listening to what they’ve been saying, not to what they haven’t been saying. We’ve been gratified when we’ve heard their confusion or noticed it in an email. Blomkvist knows damn well that someone stole copies of the 1991 Salander report from him and his sister. But what the hell is he doing about it?”
“And they didn’t report her mugging to the police?”
Nyström shook his head. “Giannini was present at the interviews with Salander. She’s polite, but she never says anything of any weight. And Salander herself never says anything at all.”
“But that will work in our favour. The more she keeps her mouth shut, the better. What does Ekström say?”
“I saw him a couple of hours ago. He’d just been given Salander’s statement.” He pointed to the pages in Clinton’s lap.
“Ekström is confused. It’s fortunate that Salander is no good at expressing herself in writing. To an outsider this would look like a totally insane conspiracy theory with added pornographic elements. But she still shoots very close to the mark. She describes exactly how she came to be locked up at St Stefan’s, and she claims that Zalachenko worked for Säpo and so on. She says she thinks everything is connected with a little club inside Säpo, pointing to the existence of something corresponding to the Section. All in all it’s fairly accurate. But as I said, it’s not plausible. Ekström is in a dither because this also seems to be the line of defence Giannini is going to use at the trial.”
“Shit,” Clinton said. He bowed his head and thought intently for several minutes. Finally he looked up.
“Jonas, drive up to Morgongåva this evening and find out if anything is going on. If they’re printing Millennium, I want a copy.”
“I’ll take Falun with me.”
“Good. Georg, I want you to see Ekström this afternoon and take his pulse. Everything has gone smoothly until now, but I can’t ignore what you two are telling me.”
Clinton sat in silence for a moment more.
“The best thing would be if there wasn’t any trial …” he said at last.
He raised