Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The - Stieg Larsson [61]
“That sounds reasonable,” Wadensjöö said.
“Millennium is a monthly, so they won’t be publishing it tomorrow. We’ve got a little time – find out exactly how long before the next issue is published – but we have to confiscate both those copies. And here we can’t go through the Prosecutor General.”
“I understand.”
“So we’re talking about an operation, getting into Blomkvist’s apartment and Millennium’s offices. Can you handle that, Jonas?”
Sandberg glanced at Wadensjöö.
“Evert … you have to understand that … we don’t do things like that any more,” Wadensjöö said. “It’s a new era. We deal more with computer hacking and electronic surveillance and such like. We don’t have the resources for what you’d think of as an operations unit.”
Gullberg leaned forward. “Wadensjöö, you’re going to have to sort out some resources pretty damn fast. Hire some people. Hire a bunch of skinheads from the Yugo mafia who can whack Blomkvist over the head if necessary. But those two copies have to be recovered. If they don’t have the copies, they don’t have the evidence. If you can’t manage a simple job like that then you might as well sit here with your thumb up your backside until the constitutional committee comes knocking on your door.”
Gullberg and Wadensjöö glared at each other for a long moment.
“I can handle it,” Sandberg said suddenly.
“Are you sure?”
Sandberg nodded.
“Good. Starting now, Clinton is your boss. He’s the one you take your orders from.”
Sandberg nodded his agreement.
“It’s going to involve a lot of surveillance,” Nyström said. “I can suggest a few names. We have a man in the external organization, Mårtensson – he works as a bodyguard in S.I.S. He’s fearless and shows promise. I’ve been considering bringing him in here. I’ve even thought that he could take my place one day.”
“That sounds good,” Gullberg said. “Clinton can decide.”
“I’m afraid there might be a third copy,” Nyström said.
“Where?”
“This afternoon I found out that Salander has taken on a lawyer. Her name is Annika Giannini. She’s Blomkvist’s sister.”
Gullberg pondered this news. “You’re right. Blomkvist will have given his sister a copy. He must have. In other words, we have to keep tabs on all three of them – Berger, Blomkvist and Giannini – until further notice.”
“I don’t think we have to worry about Berger. There was a report today that she’s going to be the new editor-in-chief at Svenska Morgon-Posten. She’s finished with Millennium.”
“Check her out anyway. As far as Millennium is concerned, we’re going to need telephone taps and bugs in everyone’s homes, and at the offices. We have to check their email. We have to know who they meet and who they talk to. And we would very much like to know what strategy they’re planning. Above all we have to get those copies of the report. A whole lot of stuff, in other words.”
Wadensjöö sounded doubtful. “Evert, you’re asking us to run an operation against an influential magazine and the editor-in-chief of S.M.P. That’s just about the riskiest thing we could do.”
“Understand this: you have no choice. Either you roll up your sleeves or it’s time for somebody else to take over here.”
The challenge hung like a cloud over the table.
“I think I can handle Millennium,” Sandberg said at last. “But none of this solves the basic problem. What do we do with Zalachenko? If he talks, anything else we pull off is useless.”
“I know. That’s my part of the operation,” Gullberg said. “I think I have an argument that will persuade Zalachenko to keep his mouth shut. But it’s going to take some preparation. I’m leaving for Göteborg later this afternoon.”
He paused and looked around the room. Then he fixed his eyes on Wadensjöö.
“Clinton will make the operational decisions while I’m gone,” he said.
Not until Monday evening did Dr Endrin decide, in consultation with her colleague Dr Jonasson, that Salander’s condition was stable enough for her to have visitors. First, two police