Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [29]
“Nieminen refuses to say anything about what happened,” the detective went on, “but he vehemently denies being involved in any crime.”
“You’d think he and Lundin were themselves the victims of a crime in Stallarholmen,” Fransson said, drumming her fingertips in annoyance. “Lisbeth Salander,” she added, her voice scored with scepticism. “We’re talking about a girl who looks as if she’s barely entered puberty and who’s only one metre fifty tall. She doesn’t look as though she has the tonnage to take on either Nieminen or Lundin, let alone both of them.”
“Unless she was armed. A pistol would compensate for her physique.”
“But that doesn’t quite fit with our reconstruction of what happened.”
“No. She used Mace and kicked Lundin in the balls and face with such aggression that she crushed one of his testicles and then broke his jaw. The shot in Lundin’s foot must have happened after she kicked him. But I can’t swallow the scenario that says she was the one who was armed.”
“The lab has identified the weapon used on Lundin. It’s a Polish P-83 Wanad using Makarova ammo. It was found in Gosseberga outside Göteborg and it has Salander’s prints on it. We can pretty much assume that she took the pistol with her to Gosseberga.”
“Sure. But the serial number shows that the pistol was stolen four years ago in the robbery of a gun shop in Örebro. The thieves were eventually caught, but they had ditched the gun. It was a local thug with a drug problem who hung out around Svavelsjö M.C. I’d much rather place the pistol with either Lundin or Nieminen.”
“It could be as simple as Lundin carrying the pistol and Salander disarming him. Then a shot was fired accidentally that hit him in the foot. I mean, it can’t have been her intention to kill him, since he’s still alive.”
“Or else she shot him in the foot out of sheer sadism. Who’s to know? But how did she deal with Nieminen? He has no visible injuries.”
“He does have one, or rather two, small burn marks on his chest.”
“What sort of burns?”
“I’m guessing a taser.”
“So Salander was supposedly armed with a taser, a Mace canister and a pistol. How much would all that stuff weigh? No, I’m quite sure that either Lundin or Nieminen was carrying the gun, and she took it from them. We’re not going to be sure how Lundin came to get himself shot until one or other of the parties involved starts talking.”
“Alright.”
“As things now stand, Lundin has been charged for the reasons I mentioned earlier. But we don’t have a damned thing on Nieminen. I’m thinking of turning him loose this afternoon.”
Nieminen was in a vile mood when he left the cells at Södertälje police station. His mouth was dry so his first stop was a corner shop where he bought a Pepsi. He guzzled it down on the spot. He bought a pack of Lucky Strike and a tin of Göteborg’s Rapé snuff. He flipped open his mobile and checked the battery, then dialled the number of Hans-Åke Waltari, thirty-three years old and number three in Svavelsjö M.C.’s hierarchy. It rang four times before Waltari picked up.
“Nieminen. I’m out.”
“Congrats.”
“Where are you?”
“Nyköping.”
“What the fuck are you doing in Nyköping?”
“We decided to lay low when you and Magge were busted – until we knew the lay of the land.”
“So now you know the lay of the land. Where is everybody?”
Waltari told him where the other five members of Svavelsjö M.C. were located. The news neither pleased Nieminen nor made him any calmer.
“So who the fuck is minding the store while all of you hide away like a bunch of girls?”
“That’s not fair. You and Magge take off on some fucking job we know nothing about, and all of a sudden you’re mixed up in a shootout with that slut the law are after, Magge gets shot and you’re busted. Then they start digging up bodies at our warehouse in Nykvarn.”
“So?”
“So? So we were starting to wonder if maybe you and Magge were hiding something from the rest of us.”
“And what the fuck would that be? We’re the ones who took the job for