Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [27]
“Hello, Micke,” Magnusson said.
“Hello,” Blomkvist said.
“In the kitchen.”
Malm was serving up freshly made waffles with cloudberry jam and coffee. Blomkvist’s appetite was revived even before he sat down. Malm wanted to know what had happened in Gosseberga. Blomkvist gave him a succinct account. He was into his third waffle before he remembered to ask what was going on.
“We had a little problem at Millennium while you were away Blomkvisting in Göteborg.”
Blomkvist looked at Malm intently.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing serious. Erika has taken the job of editor-in-chief at Svenska Morgon-Posten. She finished at Millennium yesterday.”
It was several seconds before he could absorb the whole impact of the news. He sat there stunned, but did not doubt the truth of it.
“Why didn’t she tell anyone before?” he said at last.
“Because she wanted to tell you first, and you’ve been running around being unreachable for several weeks now, and because she probably thought you had your hands full with the Salander story. She obviously wanted to tell you first, so she couldn’t tell the rest of us, and time kept slipping by … And then she found herself with an unbearably guilty conscience and was feeling terrible. And not one of us had noticed a thing.”
Blomkvist shut his eyes. “Goddamnit,” he said.
“I know. Now it turns out that you’re the last one in the office to find out. I wanted to have the chance to tell you myself so that you’d understand what happened and not think anyone was doing anything behind your back.”
“No, I don’t think that. But, Jesus … it’s wonderful that she got the job, if she wants to work at S.M.P…. but what the hell are we going to do?”
“Malin’s going to be acting editor-in-chief starting with the next issue.”
“Eriksson?”
“Unless you want to be editor-in-chief …”
“Good God, no.”
“That’s what I thought. So Malin’s going to be editor-in-chief.”
“Have you appointed an assistant editor?”
“Henry. It’s four years he’s been with us. Hardly an apprentice any longer.”
“Do I have a say in this?”
“No,” Malm said.
Blomkvist gave a dry laugh. “Right. We’ll let it stand the way you’ve decided. Malin is tough, but she’s unsure of herself. Henry shoots from the hip a little too often. We’ll have to keep an eye on both of them.”
“Yes, we will.”
Blomkvist sat in silence, cradling his coffee. It would be damned empty without Berger, and he wasn’t sure how things would turn out at the magazine.
“I have to call Erika and—”
“No, better not.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s sleeping at the office. Go and wake her up or something.”
Blomkvist found Berger sound asleep on the sofa-bed in her office. She had been up until all hours emptying her desk and bookshelves of all personal belongings and sorting papers that she wanted to keep. She had filled five packing crates. He looked at her for a while from the doorway before he went in and sat down on the edge of the sofa and woke her.
“Why in heaven’s name don’t you go over to my place and sleep if you have to sleep on the job,” he said.
“Hi, Mikael,” she said.
“Christer told me.”
She started to say something, but he bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
“Are you livid?”
“Insanely,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t turn it down. But it feels wrong, to leave all of you in the lurch in such a bad situation.”
“I’m hardly the person to criticize you for abandoning ship. I left you in the lurch in a situation that was much worse than this.”
“The two have nothing to do with each other. You took a break. I’m leaving for good and I didn’t tell anybody. I’m so sorry.”
Blomkvist gave her a wan smile.
“When it’s time, it’s time.” Then he added in English, “A woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do and all that crap.”
Berger smiled. Those were the words she had said to him when he moved to Hedeby. He reached out his hand and mussed her hair