Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The - Stieg Larsson [126]
Filled with foreboding, he ran outside. The ambulance parked by Vanger’s house. On the ground floor all the lights were on. He dashed up the porch steps in two bounds and found a shaken Anna in the hall.
“It’s his heart,” she said. “He woke me a little while ago, complaining of pains in his chest. Then he collapsed.”
Blomkvist put his arms around the housekeeper, and he was still there when the medics came out with an unconscious Vanger on a stretcher. Martin Vanger, looking decidedly stressed, walked behind. He had been in bed when Anna called. His bare feet were stuck in a pair of slippers, and he hadn’t zipped his fly. He gave Mikael a brief greeting and then turned to Anna.
“I’ll go with him to the hospital. Call Birger and see if you can reach Cecilia in London in the morning,” he said. “And tell Dirch.”
“I can go to Frode’s house,” Blomkvist said. Anna nodded gratefully.
It took several minutes before a sleepy Frode answered Blomkvist’s ring at his door.
“I have bad news, Dirch. Henrik has been taken to the hospital. It seems to be a heart attack. Martin wanted me to tell you.”
“Good Lord,” Frode said. He glanced at his watch. “It’s Friday the thirteenth,” he said.
Not until the next morning, after he’d had a brief talk with Dirch Frode on his mobile and been assured that Vanger was still alive, did he call Berger with the news that Millennium’s new partner had been taken to the hospital with a heart attack. Inevitably, the news was received with gloom and anxiety.
Late in the evening Frode came to see him and give him the details about Henrik Vanger’s condition.
“He’s alive, but he’s not doing well. He had a serious heart attack, and he’s also suffering from an infection.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No. He’s in intensive care. Martin and Birger are sitting with him.”
“What are his chances?”
Frode waved a hand back and forth.
“He survived the attack, and that’s a good sign. Henrik is in excellent condition, but he’s old. We’ll just have to wait.”
They sat in silence, deep in thought. Blomkvist made coffee. Frode looked wretchedly unhappy.
“I need to ask you about what’s going to happen now,” Blomkvist said.
Frode looked up.
“The conditions of your employment don’t change. They’re stipulated in a contract that runs until the end of this year, whether Henrik lives or dies. You don’t have to worry.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m wondering who I report to in his absence.”
Frode sighed.
“Mikael, you know as well as I do that this whole story about Harriet is just a pastime for Henrik.”
“Don’t say that, Dirch.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve found new evidence,” Blomkvist said. “I told Henrik about some of it yesterday. I’m very much afraid that it may have helped to bring on his heart attack.”
Frode looked at him with a strange expression.
“You’re joking, you must be…”
Blomkvist shook his head.
“Over the past few days I’ve found significant material about Harriet’s disappearance. What I’m worried about is that we never discussed who I should report to if Henrik is no longer here.”
“You report to me.”
“OK. I have to go on with this. Can I put you in the picture right now?”
Blomkvist described what he had found as concisely as possible, and he showed Frode the series of pictures from Järnvägsgatan. Then he explained how his own daughter had unlocked the mystery of the names in the date book. Finally, he proposed the connection, as he had for Vanger the day before, with the murder of Rebecka Jacobsson in 1949, R.J.
The only thing he kept to himself was Cecilia Vanger’s face in Harriet’s window. He had to talk to her before he put her in a position where she might be suspected of something.
Frode’s brow was creased with concern.
“You really think that the murder of Rebecka has something to do with Harriet’s disappearance?”
“It seems unlikely, I agree, but the fact remains that Harriet wrote the initials R.J. in her date book next to the reference to the Old Testament law about burnt offerings. Rebecka