Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The - Stieg Larsson [177]
All of a sudden Martin pulled his mobile telephone out of his pocket, glanced at the display, and put it on the chair next to the pistol.
“It’s time to stop all this. I have to dispose of your anorexic bitch tonight too.”
He took out a narrow leather strap from a cupboard and slipped it around Blomkvist’s neck, like a noose. He loosened the chain that held him shackled to the floor, hauled him to his feet, and shoved him towards the wall. He slipped the leather strap through a loop above Blomkvist’s head and then tightened it so that he was forced to stand on tiptoes.
“Is that too tight? Can you breathe?” He loosened it a notch and locked the other end of the strap in place, further down the wall. “I don’t want you to suffocate all at once.”
The noose was cutting so hard into Blomkvist’s throat that he was incapable of uttering a word. Martin looked at him attentively.
Abruptly he unzipped Blomkvist’s trousers and tugged them down, along with his boxer shorts. As he pulled them off, Blomkvist lost his foothold and dangled for a second from the noose before his toes again made contact with the floor. Martin went over to a cupboard and took out a pair of scissors. He cut off Blomkvist’s T-shirt and tossed the bits on the floor. Then he took up a position some distance away from Mikael and regarded his victim.
“I’ve never had a boy in here,” Martin said in a serious voice. “I’ve never touched another man, as a matter of fact…except for my father. That was my duty.”
Blomkvist’s temples were pounding. He could not put his weight on his feet without being strangled. He tried to use his fingers to get a grip on the concrete wall behind him, but there was nothing to hold on to.
“It’s time,” Martin Vanger said.
He put his hand on the strap and pulled down. Blomkvist instantly felt the noose cutting into his neck.
“I’ve always wondered how a man tastes.”
He increased the pressure on the noose and leaned forward to kiss Blomkvist on the lips at the same time that a cold voice cut through the room.
“Hey, you fucking creep, in this shithole I’ve got a monopoly on that one.”
Blomkvist heard Salander’s voice through a red fog. He managed to focus his eyes enough to see her standing in the doorway. She was looking at Martin Vanger without expression.
“No…run,” he croaked.
He could not see the look on Martin’s face, but he could almost physically feel the shock when he turned around. For a second, time stood still. Then Martin reached for the pistol he had left on the chair.
Salander took three swift strides forward and swung a golf club she had hidden at her side. The iron flew in a wide arc and hit Martin on the collarbone near his shoulder. The blow had a terrible force, and Blomkvist heard something snap. Martin howled.
“Do you like pain, creep?” Salander said.
Her voice was as rough as sandpaper. As long as Blomkvist lived, he would never forget her face as she went on the attack. Her teeth were bared like a beast of prey. Her eyes were glittering, black as coal. She moved with the lightning speed of a tarantula and seemed totally focused on her prey as she swung the club again, striking Martin in the ribs.
He stumbled over the chair and fell. The pistol tumbled to the floor at Salander’s feet. She kicked it away.
Then she struck for the third time, just as Martin Vanger was trying to get to his feet. She hit him with a loud smack on the hip. A horrible cry issued from Martin’s throat. The fourth blow struck him from behind, between the shoulder blades.
“Lis…uuth…” Blomkvist gasped.
He was about to pass out, and the pain in his temples was almost unbearable.
She turned to him and saw that his face was the colour of a tomato, his eyes were open wide, and his tongue was popping out of his mouth.
She looked about her and saw the knife on the floor. Then she spared a glance at Martin Vanger, who was trying to crawl away