Girl Who Played with Fire, The - Stieg Larsson [203]
Then she opened the police report from 1991.
And the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. She felt as if the ground had started to shake.
She read the medical report written by a Dr. Jesper H. Löderman, in which Dr. Peter Teleborian figured prominently. Löderman had been the prosecutor’s trump card when he tried to get her institutionalized at the hearing when she was eighteen.
Then she found an envelope containing correspondence between Teleborian and some policeman called Gunnar Björck. The letters were all dated 1991, just after “All The Evil” happened.
Nothing was said straight out in the correspondence, but suddenly a trapdoor opened beneath Salander. It took her several minutes to grasp the implications. Björck referred to some conversation they must have had. His wording was irreproachable, but between the lines he was saying that it would be all right with him if Salander were locked up in an asylum for the rest of her life.
It is important for the child to get some distance from the context. I cannot evaluate her psychological condition or what sort of care she needs, but the longer she can be kept institutionalized, the less risk there is that she would unintentionally create problems regarding the current matter.
Regarding the current matter. Salander rolled the phrase around in her mind for a while.
Teleborian was responsible for her care at St. Stefan’s. It had been no accident. The tone of the correspondence led her to understand that these letters were never intended to see the light of day.
Teleborian had known Björck.
Salander bit her lower lip as she pondered. She had never done any research on Teleborian, but he had started out in forensic medicine, and even the Security Police occasionally needed to consult a forensic medical expert or psychiatrist for their investigations. If she started digging, she would surely find a connection. At some point during his career, Teleborian and Björck’s paths had crossed. When Björck needed someone who could bury Salander, he had turned to Teleborian.
That was how it had happened. What previously looked like chance now took on a whole new dimension.
She sat still for a long time staring into space. Nobody was innocent. There were only varying degrees of responsibility. And somebody was responsible for Salander. She would definitely have to pay a visit to Små-dalarö. She assumed that no-one in the shipwreck that was the state justice system would have any desire to discuss the subject with her, and in the absence of anyone else, a talk with Gunnar Björck would have to do.
She looked forward to that talk.
She did not need to take all the folders with her. As she read them they became forever imprinted on her photographic memory. She took along Palmgren’s notebooks, Björck’s police report from 1991, the medical report from 1996 when she was declared incompetent, and the correspondence between Teleborian and Björck. That was enough to fill her backpack.
She closed the door, but before she had time to lock it she heard the sound of motorcycles behind her. She looked around. It was too late to try to hide, and she didn’t have the slightest chance of outrunning two bikers on Harley-Davidsons. She stepped down warily from the porch and met them in the driveway.
Bublanski marched furiously down the corridor and saw that Hedström had not yet returned to Modig’s office. But the toilet was vacant. He continued down the corridor and found him holding a plastic cup from the coffee vending machine, talking to Andersson and Bohman.
Bublanski turned unseen at the doorway and walked up one flight to Ekström’s office. He shoved the door open without knocking, interrupting Ekström in the middle of a phone conversation.
“Come with me,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?” Ekström said.
“Put the telephone down and come with me.”
Bublanski’s