Girl Who Played with Fire, The - Stieg Larsson [17]
She did not miss an opportunity to be in close contact with him. He pretended not to notice her blatant advances, but that only induced her to redouble her efforts. Quite simply, it was becoming tiresome.
Berger burst out laughing. “Good Lord, you’re being sexually harassed at work.”
“Ricky, this is a drag. There’s no way I want to hurt or embarrass her. But she’s no more subtle than a mare in heat. I’m worried what she might come up with next.”
“She’s got a crush on you and she’s too young to know how to express herself.”
“You’re wrong. She knows damned well how to express herself. There’s something warped about how far she goes, and she’s getting annoyed that I’m not taking the bait. I don’t need a new wave of rumours making me out to be some lecherous rock-star type on the hunt for a nice lay.”
“OK, but let me get to the nub of the problem. She rang your doorbell last night—is that the extent of it?”
“With a bottle of wine. She said she’d been to a party at a friend’s house close by and tried to make it look like pure chance that she found herself in my building.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t let her in, obviously. I said that she’d come at an awkward time, that I had a friend there.”
“How did she take that?”
“She was really upset, but she did leave.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Get her off my back. I’m thinking of having a serious talk with her on Monday. Either she lays off or I’ll kick her out of the office.”
Berger thought for a moment. “Let me have a talk with her. She’s looking for a friend, not a lover.”
“I don’t know what she’s looking for, but…”
“Mikael. I’ve been through what she’s going through. I’ll talk to her.”
Like everyone else who had watched TV or read an evening paper in the past year, Bjurman had heard of Mikael Blomkvist. But he did not recognize him in Café Hedon, and in any case he had no idea that there was a connection between Salander and Millennium.
Besides, he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to pay attention to his surroundings.
Ever since the lifting of his mental paralysis, he had been continuously circling round and round the same conundrum.
Salander had in her possession a video of his assault on her which she had recorded with a hidden camera. She had made him watch the video. There was no room for favourable interpretations. If it ever got to the Guardianship Agency, or, God forbid, if it ended up in the hands of the media, his career, his freedom, and his life would be over. He knew the penalties for aggravated rape, exploitation of a person in a subordinate position, abuse and aggravated abuse; he reckoned he would get at least six years in prison. A zealous prosecutor might use one section of the video as the basis for a charge of attempted murder.
He had all but asphyxiated her during the rape when he had excitedly pressed a pillow over her face. He devoutly wished he had finished the job.
They would not accept that she was the whole time playing a game. She had enticed him with her cute little-girl eyes, had seduced him with a body that looked like a twelve-year-old’s. She had provoked him to rape her. They would never see that she had in fact put on a performance. She had planned…
The first thing he would have to do was to gain possession of the video and make sure somehow that there were no copies. That was the crux of the problem.
There was no doubt in his mind that a witch like Salander would have made enemies over the years. Here Bjurman had an advantage. Unlike anyone else who might try to get at her, he had access to all her medical records, welfare reports, and psychiatric assessments. He was one of the very few people in Sweden who knew her secrets.
The personal file that the agency had copied to him when he agreed to serve as her guardian had been a mere fifteen pages that mainly presented a picture of her adult life, a summary of the assessment made by the court-appointed psychiatrists, the district court’s ruling to place her under guardianship, and her bank statements