Chapter 3 third chapter

Zarachenko had been awake for eight hours when Moody and Erlander came to his room at seven o'clock in the evening.After quite a major surgery to realign a large piece of his jaw and fix it with titanium alloy bone screws, his head was covered with numerous bandages, leaving only a small slit for his left eye and mouth exposed.The doctor explained that the blow had shattered his cheekbones, damaged his forehead, tore a large muscle off the right side of his face and strained his eye socket.He was in excruciating pain from his injuries and was given high doses of painkillers, but he was fairly conscious and able to speak.But doctors still warned officers not to tire him too much.

"Hello, Mr. Zarachenke." After greeting Modi, he introduced himself and his colleagues. "My name is Carl Axo Pottin." Zarachenko gritted his teeth and said with difficulty, but his voice was very steady. "I know your real identity, and I have seen your file in the National Security Bureau." This is of course not true. "That was a long time ago," Zarachenko said. "I am Karl Axel Podding now." "Are you all right? Can you talk?" "I am reporting a felony criminal case. My daughter attempted to murder me." "We know we will deal with this case in due course," Erlander said. "But we have more pressing matters to discuss."

"What could be more serious than an attempted murder?" "Now we need information from you on three murders in Stockholm, at least three murders in Nick Varn and one kidnapping." "I don't know anything. Who was killed?" "Mr. Pottinger, we have every reason to believe that your assistant, Ronald Needleman, thirty-five years old, committed these crimes." Erland said: "He also killed Trudeau last night. A police officer in Erhaitan." Maud was surprised that Erlander called him Botine, as Zarachenko meant.Zarachenke turned his head slightly to look at Erlande, his voice became softer.

"This...is really unfortunate news. I don't know anything about Niederman. I didn't kill any police officers. I was almost killed last night." "Currently Niederman is wanted. Do you know where he might be hiding?" "I don't know his circle of friends, I..." Zarachenke hesitated for a few seconds, and then said in a mysterious tone: "I have to admit...Let me tell you secretly...Sometimes I worry about Niederman .” Erlander leaned over and leaned in front of him. "What does it mean?" "I found out that he could be violent... I would actually be afraid of him."

"You mean you feel threatened by Niederman?" Erland asked. "Exactly. I'm old and incapable of mobility, unable to protect myself." "Can you explain your relationship with Niedermann?" "I'm a cripple." Zara kissed Kirby's own feet. "This is the second time my daughter tried to kill me. I hired Niederman as an assistant a few years ago, thinking he could protect me... I didn't expect him to take over my life, come and go as he wants...I also Can't say more." "What did he help you with?" Maud cut in and asked, "Doing what you can't do yourself?"

Zarachenke stared at Modi for a long time with the only exposed eye. "As far as I know, your daughter threw a petrol bomb into your car in the early 1990s." Maud continued. "Can you explain why she did it?" "You have to ask my daughter, she is mentally ill." His tone showed hostility again. "You mean you can't think of any reason for Salander to attack you in 1991?" "My daughter is mentally ill. There is a lot of archival data to prove it." Modi tilted his head.She found Zarachenko's answers more aggressive and hostile when she asked her questions, something Erlander had also noticed.Well... white face, black face.Maud raised his voice.

"Do you think her behavior has anything to do with your beating her mother and causing permanent brain damage?" Zarachenke turned to Modi. "It's nonsense. Her mother is a prostitute, and she was probably beaten by a client. I just happened to pass by." Maud raised her eyebrows. "So you're completely innocent?" "certainly." "Zarachenko... I'll repeat it to see if I understand correctly. You said you never beat your girlfriend, Salander's mother, Agneta Sofia Saran Björk, the head of your NSA at the time, wrote a long report, stamped 'Top Secret', and your beating was the focus of the report."

"I've never been sentenced, I've never been prosecuted, and if some idiot in the NSA fudges the report, there's nothing I can do about it. If I was ever involved, they'd at least question me." Maud was speechless.Zarachenko seemed to snicker on his bandaged face. "So I'm going to sue my daughter for trying to kill me." Maud sighed. "I can gradually understand why she couldn't restrain her impulse and took an ax to hit your head." Erland coughed lightly, and said, "Sorry, Mr. Potting... Let's get back to business and tell you what you know about Niederman's activities."

Moody was in the corridor outside Zarachenko's ward, calling Inspector Boblanski. "No results," she said. "Not at all?" asked Boblanski. "He's suing Salander with grievous assault and attempted murder. He claims he had nothing to do with the Stockholm murder." "How did he explain that Salander was buried on the grounds of his brother Seberga's farm?" "He said he had a cold and was sleeping almost all day. If Salander was shot in Gosseberga, it must have been Niederman's own initiative." "Okay, so what do you have now?"

"She was shot by a . 22 Browning and that's why she survived. The weapon was found and Zarachenko admitted it was his." "I get it. In other words, he knew we'd find his fingerprints on the gun." "True, but he said the last time he saw the gun it was in a desk drawer." "That means the great Mr. Niederman shot Salander dead while Zarachenko was asleep. What a cold-blooded bastard! Is there any evidence to refute it?" Modi thought for a moment before replying, "Zarachenko is familiar with Swedish law and police procedures. He has admitted nothing and cast Niederman as the culprit. I really don't know what we can prove. I ask Erlander Send his clothes to the forensic team to be tested for gunpowder residue, but he will say he was shooting two days ago."

Salander smelled of almonds and alcohol.She felt as if there was alcohol in her mouth, and she wanted to swallow, but her tongue was numb and unconscious.She tried to open her eyes, but couldn't.It seemed to hear a voice talking to her in the distance, but she couldn't understand what was being said.Then the voice became very clear. "I think she made it through." She felt that someone was touching her forehead, and she tried to push away the hand that violated her. At the same time, she felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder, so she had to force herself to relax. "Can you hear me, Liz?" go away. "Can you open your eyes?" What idiot is babbling here? She finally opened her eyes.At first she saw only strange lights, and finally a human figure appeared in the center of her field of vision.She tried her best to focus her eyes, but the figures kept slipping away.She felt as if she was badly hungover, and the bed seemed to keep leaning back. "Health medicine," she said. "Say it again, please?" "Crazy," she said. "That's pretty clear. Can you open your eyes again?" She opened her eyes a little, saw a completely unfamiliar face, and remembered every detail.About a foot away, a lean, blond man with dark blue eyes tilted his face. "Hi, my name is Anders Jonathan, I'm a doctor. You are in the hospital, you are injured and you just had an operation. Can you tell me your name?" "Sarande." Salander said. "Okay, could you please count from one to ten?" "One, two, four... no... three, four, five, six..." Then she passed out. Dr. Jonathan was very happy with her reaction. She not only said her name but also started to count, which means that her cognitive ability is still intact and she will not become a vegetative state.He wrote that she woke up at 9:06 p.m., and it has been about sixteen hours since the operation was completed.He slept almost all day that day, and drove back to the hospital around 7 pm. In fact, he was off that day, but he had some paperwork to finish. He couldn't resist coming to the intensive care unit to visit the patients whose brains he had flipped that morning. "Let her sleep a little longer, but check her EEG regularly, I am worried that there may be swelling or bleeding in the brain. When she tries to move her arm, her left shoulder seems to be hurting. If she wakes up again, you can give her every hour. Two milligrams of morphine." He felt extraordinarily happy as he walked out the gates of Sogenska Hospital. Kaspersen, a dental nurse who lives in Alinsos, was shaking as she staggered through the forest.She suffered severe hypothermia because she was wearing only a pair of wet pants and a thin sweater.Bare feet were bleeding.The man tied her up in the barn, and she managed to escape without being able to untie the rope that bound her hands behind her back.All ten fingers are numb. She feels like the last survivor on earth, and everyone abandons her. She doesn't know where she is.It was dark all around, and I don't know how long I have been walking aimlessly.She was still alive, she was surprised. At this time, she saw a light shooting out of the forest, and she stopped immediately. She hesitated for a few minutes, not daring to walk towards the light, and later passed through the bushes and came to the yard of a gray brick bungalow.She looked around in surprise. Then she shuffled to the door, turned and kicked the door with her heel. Salander opened her eyes and saw a light on the ceiling.When I turned my head after a while, I realized that I was wearing a neck brace.She felt a dull pain in her head and a sharp pain in her left shoulder, so she closed her eyes again. Hospital, she thought to herself, why am I here? She was exhausted and could barely think logically.Then a memory suddenly emerged, and in just a few seconds, the fragmentary image of her digging herself out of the hole quickly flashed in her mind, which made her terrified.But she gritted her teeth and focused on adjusting her breathing. She's not dead, but she's not sure that's a good thing. She couldn't piece together the whole process, but only remembered some vague and scattered pictures in the woodshed, and she swung an ax angrily at the face of her father—Zalachenko—was he dead or alive? She couldn't remember what happened with Niederman, but she had a vague impression that he escaped unexpectedly, and she didn't know why. Suddenly, she remembered seeing the bastard little detective Blomkvist.Maybe it was all a dream, but she remembered a kitchen, it must have been the kitchen in Gosseberga, and she seemed to see him coming towards her.It must be my hallucination. What happened to Gosseberga seemed like a distant memory, or it might have been a ridiculous dream.She focused on the present moment, and opened her eyes again. She was seriously injured, and no one needed to tell.She raised her right hand to touch her head, the bandage was wrapped, and there was a neck brace on her neck, and she remembered everything at this moment.Needleman.Zaraqianke.That old bastard has a pistol too.A handful of .22 Brownings.Compared with other pistols, this can only be regarded as a toy gun, which is why she survived. I was shot in the head and I could feel my brain with my fingers in the wound. She didn't expect to survive, but she didn't think it mattered.If death was like the dark void before she woke up, there was nothing to worry about.In any case, almost no difference can be felt.In this wonderful thought, she closed her eyes and fell asleep again. She had only napped for a few minutes before she noticed movement, and then opened her eyelids a little.She saw the nurse in white uniform leaning over to check, so she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep again. "I think you're awake," the nurse said. "Yes." Salander replied. "Hi, my name is Marion, can you understand me?" Salander tried to nod, but her head was caught by the neck guard. "No, don't move around. You don't have to be afraid, you were injured earlier and had a knife." "Can I have some water?" Salander whispered. The nurse handed her a water glass and inserted a straw.While she was drinking water, she saw another person on her left. "Hey Liz, can you hear me?" "Ok." "I'm Dr. Helena Andrin. Do you know where you are?" "Hospital." "You're at Sogernska Hospital in Gothenburg. You've had surgery and you're in intensive care." "Ok." "You needn't be afraid." "I was shot in the head." Andrin hesitated for a moment before saying, "Yes, so you remember what happened." "That old bastard has a gun." "Ah...yeah, someone does have a gun." "One point two two." "Really? I don't know about that." "How bad is my injury?" "Your prognosis is quite good. You have suffered a serious injury, but we think there should be a chance of a full recovery." Salander considered the information, then tried to look the doctor in the eye, but her vision blurred. "How's Zarachenko?" "Who?" "That old bastard. Is he still alive?" "You must be referring to Karl Axel Podding." "No, no, I'm talking about Alexander Zarachenko, that's his real name." "I don't know anything about this. But the elderly gentleman who was admitted to the hospital at the same time as you was in critical condition, but he is out of danger." Salander's heart sank as she pondered over the doctor's words. "where is he?" "It's at the other end of the corridor. But don't worry about him now, you have to focus on taking care of yourself." Salander closed her eyes, wondering if she could get out of bed, find something to use as a weapon, and solve the problem.But she could barely keep her eyes open.She thought to herself, this time he will let him escape again.She missed her chance to kill Zarachenko. "I want to examine you. Then you can go back to sleep," Dr. Andrin said. Blomkvist suddenly woke up inexplicably.He didn't know where he was for a moment, and then he remembered that he was staying in the city hotel.It was pitch black all around.He fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp and looked at the clock.two o'clock.Fifteen hours of sleep. He got out of bed and went into the bathroom.There was no way to go back to sleep, so he shaved and took a long shower before putting on jeans and a maroon sweatshirt.He called the counter and asked if he could order coffee and a sandwich this early in the morning, and the night shift said it should be fine. He came downstairs in his blazer, ordered coffee and a poutine sandwich, and bought the Gothenburg Post as he went.News of Salander's arrest hit the front pages.He returned to his room with breakfast and read the newspaper while eating.The coverage is a bit of a mess, but in the right direction.Ronald Needleman, thirty-five years old, wanted for killing a police officer.Police also want to question him about the Stockholm murders.The police did not disclose Salander's condition at all, nor did they mention Zarachenko's name, but only said that he was a 66-year-old landowner from Gothabaga, and the media clearly regarded him as an innocent victim. After reading the newspaper, Blomkvist turned on his phone and found twenty unread text messages.There were three requests for him to call Erica, two from his sister Annika, fourteen from reporters from various newspapers who said they wanted to talk to him, and finally a brief proposal from Christ: You Better take the first train back. Blomkvist frowned. It was unusual for Christ to say such a thing.The text message was distributed at 7:06 pm.He suppressed the urge to wake people up by calling at three in the morning, turned on the computer and connected to the broadband.The first train to Stockholm left at 5:20, and there was no new news in the electronic newspaper of the "Swedish Evening News". He opened a new Word document, lit a cigarette, sat staring at a blank screen for three minutes, and started typing. Her name was Liz Salander.The Swedes knew her from police reports, press releases and evening headlines.She is twenty-seven years old and 154 centimeters tall.She has been called a psychopath, a murderer and a homosexual who worships Satan.There have always been endless, whimsical rumors about her.This issue of Millennium reveals how government officials conspired to frame Salander to protect a psychopathic murderer...   He wrote for fifty minutes, mainly recounting some of the key points he had discovered about Darger and Mia's night, and why the police had identified Salander as a murder suspect.Citing headlines about Satanic lesbianism, he said the media clearly wanted the killings to involve sexual abuse. He looked at the clock, quickly closed his laptop, packed his luggage, went to the counter downstairs and paid with a credit card, and then took a taxi to Gothenburg Central Station. Blomkvist went directly to the dining car, ordered coffee and sandwiches, then turned on the computer again, and reread what he had just written.He was too engrossed to notice Inspector Moody until she coughed lightly and asked if he could sit together, then he raised his head, smiled sheepishly, and turned off the computer at the same time. "Do you want to go home?" "It seems you are too." The officer nodded. "My colleague is staying another day." "Do you know how Salander is doing now? I fell asleep after I met you last time." "She had an operation not long after she was sent to the hospital, and she woke up yesterday evening. The doctor thinks she will make a full recovery. She is really lucky." Blomkvist nodded in agreement, and it suddenly occurred to him that he wasn't actually worried about her.He had assumed that she would survive, and there was absolutely no other result. "Did anything interesting happen?" he asked. Maud wondered how much to reveal to a reporter who knew more about the whole story than she did.But then again, she was the one who was going to sit at his table, and there were probably hundreds of journalists at the police headquarters who had gotten the news by now. "You can't paraphrase me," she declared. "I'm asking purely out of personal curiosity." She told him that the police had issued a national warrant for Niedermann, especially in the Malmö area. "What about Zarachenko? Did you interrogate him?" "I asked." "The results of it?" "I can't tell you that." "Come on, Maudy. I'll find out what you're talking about when I'm in the Stockholm office in less than an hour anyway. Come on, I can't write a word." She hesitated for a moment before meeting his gaze. "He said Salander attempted to kill him, so he intends to file a formal appeal. She will likely be prosecuted for grievous injury and attempted homicide." "She'd probably say it was in self-defense." "I hope so," said Maudy. "That doesn't sound like an official statement." "Potin... Zarachenko is very cunning, and he always answers our questions. I believe that most of the things are as you said yesterday, that is, Salander has been unfairly treated in her entire life, starting from the age of twelve. treatment." "That's exactly the story I'm going to cover," Blomkvist said. "Some people won't like it." Maud looked hesitant again.Blomkvist waited patiently. "I spoke with Boblanski half an hour ago, and he didn't go into great detail, but it appears that the initial investigation into Salander's murder of your two friends has been shelved. The focus has shifted to Niederman. " "Meaning..." He let the question hang. Maud shrugged. "Who will take over the investigation of Salander?" "I don't know. What happened in Gosseberga is mainly a problem in Gothenburg. I guess a guy from Stockholm is going to get all the information for the prosecution." "Understood. What do you think the chances are that the investigation will be transferred to the NSA?" Maud shook his head. Just before reaching Alynthos, Blomkvist leaned forward and said, "Modi... I think you should know what's going on. If Zarachenko's story came to light, there would be a huge uproar. NSA The staff conspired with a psychiatrist to put Salander in a mental hospital. The only thing they can do now is to deny their account, insisting that Salander has mental problems and that it was right to put her in a nursing home in 1991 of." Maddy nodded. "I will do everything in my power to refute this statement. I believe that Salander is as healthy as you and me. Although her personality is indeed strange, her intellectual talent cannot be denied." He paused, allowing the other party to think about what he said. "I need a trusted insider." She met his eyes. "I'm not qualified to judge whether Salander has mental problems." "But you are in a position to say whether she has been subjected to a miscarriage of justice." "What are you implying?" "I just wanted to ask you to do me a favor and let me know if you find out that Salander has been mistreated again." Maud made no reply. "I don't want to know the details of the investigation or anything, just what the charges against her are." "That sounds like a good way to get me fired." "I will treat you as a source and absolutely, never mention your name." He tore out a page from his notebook and wrote an email address. "This is an untraceable Hotmail account. If you have anything to tell me, you can write it here. Of course, don't use the mailbox in the bureau, set up a temporary Hotmail account yourself." She put the account number in the inner pocket of her jacket, but made no promises. At seven o'clock on Saturday morning, Inspector Erlander was woken up by the sound of the phone, heard the sound of the TV, and smelled the aroma of coffee coming from the kitchen. His wife was already busy with the housework in the morning.He returned to Mendal's apartment at one o'clock in the morning after twenty-two hours on duty, so he was still awake when he answered the phone. "I'm Li Jiasen from the night shift, are you awake?" "No," said Erlander, "not sober. What's the matter?" "New news. Anita Kaspersen found." "Where?" "Segrola suburb south of Poros." Erlander imagined the geographic location in his mind. "Going south," he said. "He took the side road. He must have taken Highway 180, passed Poros, and then went south. Did you call Malmö?" "Yes, also Helsingborg, Landskrona and Taylorburg, and Karlskrona. I'm thinking of the ferry to the east." Erland rubbed the back of his neck. "He's almost twenty-four hours ahead of time, and may have fled the country. How did Casperson find it?" "She turned up in a house on the outskirts of Segrola." "what?" "She's going to knock..." "You mean she's alive?" "Sorry, I didn't make it clear. The woman named Kaspersen kicked the door of that house at 3:10 am this morning, scaring the sleeping owner, couple and children to death. She Barefoot, very hypothermic, hands tied behind her back. She is now in Poros Hospital, her husband has rushed." "It's incredible. I think everyone thought she was dead." "Sometimes things don't go as expected. But there's bad news: Deputy County Sheriff Spangler has been here since five o'clock in the morning. She wants you to get up immediately and go to Pollux to speak to that woman." It was Saturday morning, and Blomkvist expected the magazine offices to be empty.Before the train was about to pull into the station, he called Crist and asked him why he was texting in that tone. "Have you had breakfast yet?" Christ asked. "Eat in the car." "Okay, come to my house, and I'll let you eat more heartily." "what happened?" "Let's talk later." Blomkvist took the subway to Umeboga Square and walked to All Saints Street.It was Crist's boyfriend, Arno Magnussen, who answered the door.No matter how hard he tried, every time Blomkvist confronted him it felt like he was watching an ad.Arnold often performs on stage at the Royal Theater and is one of the most popular actors in Sweden. Seeing him in person always feels unreal.Blomkvist doesn't have a deep impression of most of the stars, but Arnold's appearance is too unique, and he has played countless familiar roles on TV and movies, especially in a ninety-minute TV series with high ratings , playing the role of the irascible but straightforward police officer Felix.Blomkvist always expected him to do exactly what Felisk had done. "Hello, Michel." Arnold greeted. "Hello," Blomkvist responded. "In the kitchen." Krist happens to be serving freshly made muffins with cloudberry jam and coffee.Before even sitting down, Blomkvist regained his appetite.Crist wanted to know what happened to Gosseberga, and Blomkvist briefly described it, and it wasn't until the third muffin that he remembered to ask what happened. "When you went to Gothenburg to be your little detective Blomkvist, there was a little problem with Millennium." Blomkvist stared at Christ closely. "what is the problem?" "It doesn't matter. Erica took over as editor-in-chief of the Swedish Morgan Post, and yesterday was her last day at Millennium." He sat there for several seconds before comprehending the meaning of this sentence, but he did not doubt its authenticity. "Why didn't she tell anyone before?" he finally spoke. "She wants to tell you, but you've been running around and haven't been able to find anyone for weeks, and she probably thinks you're too busy with Salander alone. She obviously wants to tell you first, so she can't Telling the rest of us, the days went by like this... until she started feeling really guilty and depressed. But none of us noticed." Blomkvist closed his eyes. "Damn it!" he said. "Yeah. As a result, you became the last person in the office to know. I want to find an opportunity to tell you personally, so that you can understand the real ins and outs, so that you don't think that someone is doing something behind your back." "No, I don't think so, but, my God... if she wants to go to the Swedish Morgan Post, it would be great to get the job... But what do we do now?" "The next issue will be edited by Marlene." "Marlene?" "Unless you want to be..." "No, of course not." "I think so too. So Marlene will be the editor-in-chief." "Have you appointed an editorial secretary?" "Kertesz, he's been with us for four years, he's hardly an intern." "May I express my opinion?" "No." Christ said decisively. Blomkvist let out a dry laugh. "Okay, just do as you decide. Marlene is strong, but lacks confidence. Kertesz acted a little rashly. We should pay more attention to the two of them." "Will do." Blomkvist sat silently with a cup of coffee in his hand.He didn't dare to think about how empty the magazine would be after Erica left, and what the future of the magazine would be. "I have to make a call to Erica..." "better not." "What's the meaning?" "She's sleeping in the office, you better wake her up." Blomkvist found Erica fast asleep on the sofa bed in her office.She spent the night clearing personal belongings from her desk and bookshelves and sorting out papers she wanted to keep, packing a total of five boxes.He stood at the door watching her for a while, then went in and sat on the edge of the sofa to wake her up. "If you have to spend the night at the office, why don't you sleep at my house?" he asked. "Michael," she greeted. "Christ told me all about it." She was about to speak when he bent down and kissed her cheek. "are you mad?" "Crazy," he replied. "I'm sorry, I really can't refuse. But it doesn't feel right to leave you guys under such a bad situation." "I'm actually the least qualified to criticize you for abandoning ship and absconding. When I abandoned you, the situation was worse than it is now." "It's two different things. You're just taking a break and I'm leaving for good and not telling anyone. I'm really sorry." Blomkvist smiled feebly. "When the time comes, it's time." Then he added in English: "In short, it's the nonsense of 'what a woman should do, she has to do'." Erica smiled.That was what she had said to him when he moved to Hadeby.He reached out and brushed her hair intimately. "I can understand why you want to get out of this madhouse... but wanting to lead the most boring old man's newspaper in all of Sweden... It's hard for me to understand at the moment." "There are quite a few girls working there now." "Bullshit. Go check the headlines, it hasn't changed since. You must be a delirious masochist. Shall we go get a coffee?" Erica sat up. "I need to hear what happened in Gothenburg." "I'm writing it right now," said Blomkvist. "There's going to be a big fight when it's published. It will be published to coincide with the trial. I hope you don't intend to take this story to the Swedish Morgan Post. Fact Now, I need your help to write something about Zarachenko before I leave." "Michael...I..." "Your last editorial. Anytime. No matter when the court is in session, it's almost impossible to get it published before then." "That doesn't seem very good. What do you think should be written?" "Moral," Blomkvist said, "and explain that one of our colleagues was killed because of a government official's dereliction of duty fifteen years ago." Erica knew exactly what kind of editorial he wanted.She was, after all, the leader of the Society when Duggar was killed.Thinking of it this way, my heart suddenly widened. "Okay," she said. "My last editorial."