Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [275]
“I know. Molly Flint, forty-one, and Brian Delaney, twenty-six.”
“Do you want to meet them?”
“No. Is Brian your lover?”
“What? No.” He looked shocked. “I don’t mix—”
“Good.”
“By the way, I’m not interested in young guys … inexperienced ones, I mean.”
“No … you’re more attracted to men with a tough attitude than to some snot-nosed kid. But it’s still none of my business. But Jeremy …”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
Salander had not planned to stay in Gibraltar for more than two weeks, just long enough, she thought, to get her bearings. But she suddenly discovered that she had no idea what she was going to do or where she should go. She stayed for three months. She checked her email once a day and replied promptly to messages from Giannini on the few occasions her lawyer got in touch. She did not tell her where she was. She did not answer any other email.
She still went to Harry’s Bar, but now she came in only for a beer or two in the evenings. She spent large parts of her days at the Rock Hotel, either on her balcony or in bed. She got together with a thirty-year-old Royal Navy officer, but it was a one-night stand and all in all an uninteresting experience.
She was bored.
Early in October she had dinner with MacMillan. They had met up only a few times during her stay. It was dark and they drank a fruity white wine and discussed what they should use her billions for. And then he surprised her by asking what was upsetting her.
She studied his face for a long time and pondered the matter. Then she had, just as surprisingly, told him about her relationship with Miriam Wu, and how Mimmi had been beaten and almost killed. And she, Lisbeth, was to blame. Apart from one greeting sent by way of Giannini, Salander had not heard a word from Mimmi. And now she was in France.
MacMillan listened in silence.
“Are you in love with her?” he said at last.
Salander shook her head.
“No. I don’t think I’m the type who falls in love. She was a friend. And we had good sex.”
“Nobody can avoid falling in love,” he said. “They might want to deny it, but friendship is probably the most common form of love.”
She looked at him in astonishment.
“Will you get cross if I say something personal?”
“No.”
“Go to Paris, for God’s sake,” he said.
She landed at Charles de Gaulle airport at 2.30 in the afternoon, took the airport bus to the Arc de Triomphe and spent two hours wandering around the nearby neighbourhoods trying to find a hotel room. She walked south towards the Seine and finally found a room at a small hotel, the Victor Hugo on rue Copernic.
She took a shower and called Miriam Wu. They met that evening at a bar near Notre Dame. Mimmi was dressed in a white shirt and jacket. She looked fabulous. Salander instantly felt shy. They kissed each other on the cheek.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called, and that I didn’t come to the trial,” Mimmi said.
“That’s O.K. The trial was behind closed doors anyway.”
“I was in hospital for three weeks, and then it was chaos when I got home to Lundagatan. I couldn’t sleep. I had nightmares about that bastard Niedermann. I called my mother and told her I wanted to come here, to Paris.”
Salander said she understood.
“Forgive me,” Mimmi said.
“Don’t be such an idiot. I’m the one who’s come here to ask you to forgive me.”
“For what?”
“I wasn’t thinking. It never occurred to me that I was putting you in such danger by turning over my old apartment to you. It was my fault that you were almost murdered. You’d have every right to hate me.”
Mimmi looked shocked. “Lisbeth, I never even gave it a thought. It was Ronald Niedermann who tried to murder me, not you.”
They sat in silence for a while.
“Alright,” Salander said finally.
“Right,” Mimmi said.
“I didn’t follow you here because I’m in love with you,” Salander said.
Mimmi nodded.
“We had great sex, but I’m not in love with you.”
“Lisbeth, I think …”
“What I wanted to say was that I hope you … damn.”
“What?”
“I don’t have many friends …”
Mimmi nodded. “I’m going to be in Paris for a while. My studies