Chapter 7 Chapter VII

At 5:45 p.m. on Monday, Blomkvist closed his notebook, got up from the dining table in his residence on Bellman Road, put on his jacket, and walked to Milton Security in Slusen.He took the elevator to the reception counter on the second floor, and was immediately invited into the meeting room.It was exactly six o'clock, but he was the last to arrive. "Hello, Armansky." He shook hands and greeted: "Thank you for willing to chair this informal meeting." Blomkvist looked around the room, and there were four other people: his sister, Salander's former guardian Paglan, Marlene, and Sonny Portman, who had worked as a criminal police officer and was currently a security employee of Milton.Under Armansky's direction, Portman had been keeping an eye on the Salander investigation from the beginning.

This is the first time Pangelan has been out in more than two years.Dr. Sivanandan at Ursta Rehabilitation Center was not too keen on letting him out, but Pangelan himself was adamant.He arrived in a special handicapped vehicle, accompanied by a private nurse, Johanna Karolina Oskasen, whose salary was paid by a secret foundation established to provide the best possible care for Pangem.Oskasen was sitting in another office next to the conference room, reading the book he had brought.Blomkvist closed the door behind him. "Let me introduce you to Millennium's editor-in-chief Marlene Allison. I've asked her to come here because what we're about to discuss has implications for her work."

"Okay." Armansky said: "Everyone is here, I'm all ears." Blomkvist stood in front of Armansky's whiteboard, picked up a marker, and looked at the crowd. "It's probably the craziest thing I've ever been involved in." He said, "When it's all over, I'm going to set up an association called 'Samurai at the Stupid Table' and hold an annual evening party about Liz. Salander's story. You are all members." He paused here. "Okay, here's how it goes." He started laying out a list of headings on the whiteboard, talking for a full thirty minutes before beginning the nearly three-hour discussion.

After the meeting, Gulbo sat next to Clinton, and the two talked in low tones for a few minutes before getting up to shake hands with the old colleague. Gulbo took a taxi back to Forrest Hotel to pack his luggage, check out, and then took the evening train to Gothenburg.He bought a first-class carriage with an exclusive wing.After crossing the Asta Bridge, he took out the ballpoint pen and the blank notebook, thought for a long time before starting to write, stopped writing after writing half a page, and tore off the paper. Forging documents has never been his field or strong point, but this time the job is relatively simple, because what he wants to write now is a letter signed by him, and the complicated thing is that none of the contents of the letter is true.

He had lost a lot of drafts when the train passed through Nyköping, but he probably knew how to write.When he arrived in Gothenburg, he already had twelve satisfactory letters in his hand, and he deliberately left a clear fingerprint on each letter paper. At Gothenburg Central Station, he found a photocopier to make copies of the letters, bought envelopes and stamps, and finally dropped the letters into a mailbox that would be picked up at nine o'clock in the evening. Gulber took a taxi to the City Hotel on Lawrence Park Road, where Clinton had booked him a room.A few days earlier, Blomkvist had also stayed at the same hotel.Gulbo went straight into the room and sat on the bed, exhausted, only then did he realize that he had only eaten two slices of bread all day.Still he wasn't hungry.He took off his clothes, lay flat on the bed, and fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Salander woke up when she heard the door open, and knew right away that it wasn't the night nurse.She narrowed her eyes and saw a figure with a cane at the door.Zarachenko was watching her from the light in the corridor. She stared at the electronic clock without moving her head: ten past three in the morning. Then he glanced at the bedside table again, saw the water glass, and silently calculated the distance in his heart.Just enough to reach without moving the body. It takes seconds to reach out and use the hard edge of the table to break the glass.If Zarachenko bent over her, it would take half a second to swipe the shattered cup rim toward his throat.She tried to find another way, but the glass was the only weapon within reach.

She relaxed and waited. Zarachenko stood at the door without moving for two minutes, then carefully closed the door. She heard the slight scuff of his cane as he walked away quietly down the corridor. Five minutes later, she propped herself up on her right elbow, took the water glass, and took a big sip of water.Then he stepped off the edge of the bed with both legs, and pulled out the electrode pads on his arms and chest.She struggled to her feet, staggering, and took about a minute to stabilize.She limped to the door and leaned against the wall for panting, sweating all over her body.There was a sudden chill of anger.

Fuck you, Zarachenko.Let's compete right here now! She needs weapons. Immediately afterwards, hurried footsteps were heard in the corridor. Damn, pads. "How did you get up?" the night shift nurse asked. "I want... want to... go to the bathroom," Salander said breathlessly. "Go back to bed right away." She took Salander's hand, helped her to bed, and fetched the bedpan. "You just ring the bell to call us if you want to go to the bathroom. That's what this button is for." On Tuesday, Blomkvist woke up at ten-thirty in the morning, showered, made coffee, and sat down in front of his notebook.After a meeting in Milton the night before, I went home and worked until five in the morning.The article finally began to take shape.Zarachenko's biography is still vague, and now there are only the parts he threatened Bjork to reveal, and the few details that Panglan can provide.Salander's part has been roughly drawn up.He explained step by step how she had been targeted by a group of pro-Cold War elements within the NSA and locked up in a mental hospital to prevent her from revealing Zarachenko's background.

He is happy with what he has written.There were still holes to be patched, but he knew the story was a good one, one that would hit the news pages and explode at the top of the government. He was smoking and meditating. It can be seen that there are two omissions that need special attention.One of them is fairly simple, that is, he has to deal with Tyler Polion, and he is looking forward to this moment.When it's over, the nationally renowned child psychiatrist will be one of the most hated people in Sweden.This is one piece. Another thing is more complicated. Those who had conspired against Salander—he secretly dubbed the "Zarachenko Club"—were the secret police.He knew one of them: Björk, but Björk couldn't be the only one.Must be a group of people... some sort of group or unit or something.There must be leaders and action managers.Must have a budget.But he couldn't figure out how to find these people, or even where to start.He had only a very vague idea of ​​the origins of the secret police organization.

At the beginning of his investigation on Monday, he sent Kertesz to a second-hand bookstore in Sodermalm to buy all the books about the secret police.In the afternoon, Kertesz came to his residence with six books. The Swedish Spy War, by Michael Rothquist (Tampus Press, 1988); Wardstrand and Westander, 1988); The Secret Police, Jan Ottosen and Lars Magnussen (Dida, 1991); The Secret Police The Power Struggle of the Police, by Eric Magnussen (Collerner, 1989); A Mission, by Karl Libaum (Varstrom & Westander , 1990); and the somewhat unexpected Undercover Agent, by Thomas Whiteside (Ballantine Press, 1966), which deals with the Wennerstrom affair, but with That incident in the sixties, not the Wennerstrom incident that Blomkvist recently uncovered.

He spent a good deal of time Monday night and Tuesday morning reading, or at least skimming, the books, and made a few discoveries.First, most of the books on the secret police were published in the late 1980s, and searching the Internet found that there are almost no newer works on similar themes. Second, there does not seem to be any clear and simple basic outline of the activities of the Swedish secret police over the years.This may be due to the fact that many documents are stamped "Top Secret", but there does not appear to be any serious scrutiny by any agency, researcher or media against the secret police. He also noticed something else odd: None of the books Kertesz found contained a bibliography.Instead, the footnotes often quote articles from the evening papers or interviews with an elderly retired secret police officer. The book "Secret Police" is very fascinating, but it's a pity that most of it is before and during World War II.Vigne’s memoir, which Blomkvist sees as a propaganda tool, was written by a secret police chief who was dismissed after being severely criticized by the public to defend himself. The first chapter of Undercover has so much misinformation about Sweden that he throws it in the trash.In the end, only two volumes, The Power Struggle of the Secret Police and The Swedish Spy War, were left that really showed their ambitions to describe the work of the secret police, with dates, names and organizational structure.He found Erik's book especially worth reading, which, though it did not provide any answers to his questions at the moment, explained in detail the organization of the secret police and its major involvement over the decades. The most surprising is Libam's "A Mission", which describes the problems encountered by the former Swedish ambassador to France after the assassination of Palme and the incident of Albert Carlson.Blomkvist had never read Libaum's work, and he was taken aback by the author's sarcastic tone combined with sharp comments.But even Libaum's book didn't bring Blomkvist any closer to an answer, only that he was beginning to understand a little bit about the kind of opponent he was up against. He turned on his phone and dialed Kertesz. "Cortez, thank you for running errands for me yesterday." "What do you need now?" "Run for me again." "I don't want to say it, Michel, but I have work to do. I'm the editor's secretary now." "Great job promotion." "What do you want me to do?" "Over the years, there have been some public reports on the secret police. Libam wrote one, and there must be others like it." "I understand." "Send me whatever Congress can find, like budgets, public reports, questions, etc. And the annual report of the secret police, no matter how old it is." "As ordered." "Very good. By the way, Kertesz..." "How about it?" "Just give it to me tomorrow." Salander thought about Zarachenko all day long.She knew that they were only separated by a ward, that he would hang out in the corridor at night, and that he had come to her room at ten past three in the morning this morning. In order to kill him, she tracked him all the way to Goseboga, but the operation failed. Zarachenko was still alive, and was lying on the bed less than ten meters away from her.She's stuck.It's hard to see how bad the situation is for the time being, but if she doesn't want to risk being locked up in an insane asylum again under the care of Tyler Pollyan, she has to run away, or even go abroad secretly. The problem was that she could hardly even sit upright in bed.Things did improve though.The head still hurts, but not continuously. The pain in the left shoulder is also slightly relieved, but it will recur as soon as I move. She heard footsteps outside the door, and the nurse opened it to let in a woman in black trousers, a white shirt, and a dark coat.She was a slender beauty with short, crisp dark hair and an air of cheerful confidence.She was carrying a black briefcase.Salander saw at once that her eyes resembled Blomkvist's. "Hi Liz, I'm Annika Giannini," she said. "May I come in?" Salander looked at her expressionlessly.Suddenly she didn't want to see Blomkvist's sister at all, and regretted allowing her to defend her. After Annika came in, she closed the door and pulled a chair to sit down.She looked at the client and sat quietly for a while. This girl looks like she's in a bad situation.Her head was bandaged and there were bruises around her bloodshot eyes. "Before we start, I want to know if you really want me to represent you. I usually take civil cases and represent victims of rape or domestic violence. I'm not a criminal lawyer. But I've studied your case carefully. After your case, I would love to defend you if I could. I should also tell you that Michael is my brother, as you must already know, and that he and Armansky paid my attorney's fees." She stopped for a while, and continued when she saw that the other party did not respond. "If you want me to be your lawyer, I will work for you, not my brother or Armanski. I also have to tell you that I will be advised and assisted by your former guardian, Panglan, during any trial .He was a very resilient old gentleman who dragged the sick out of bed to help you." "Panglan?" "yes." "Have you seen him?" "yes." "How is he now?" "He's pissed off, but strangely he doesn't seem worried about you at all." Salander grinned.This is the first time she has smiled since she entered Sogernska Hospital. "how do you feel?" "Like a pile of shit." "So, you want me to be your lawyer? Armansky and Michael will pay me, and..." "don't want." "What do you mean no?" "I'll pay for it myself. I don't want to take a penny from Armansky and the little detective. But I have to go online to pay." "I see. We'll talk about that later. Anyway, most of my salary is paid by the state. So you want me to be your lawyer?" Salander nodded slightly. "Okay. Let me pass on Michael's message first. It sounds a bit confusing, but he said you will understand." "Oh?" "He wants you to know that he has told me most of the things, with the exception of a few details, the first of which is your skill he discovered at Hedstar." He knows I have a photographic memory...and a hacker.He didn't say it. "it is good." "The second item is a DVD. I don't know what he's referring to, but he insists on letting you decide whether to tell me. Do you know what he's talking about?" Video of Bierman raping me. "Know." "That's good." Annika suddenly became hesitant. "I'm kind of mad at my brother. Although he hired me, he only told me what he wanted to say. Are you going to hide something from me, too?" "I don't know. Can we talk about this later?" Salander said. "Of course. We'll have to talk a lot. I don't have time for a long talk today. I have to see Prosecutor Yeva in forty-five minutes. I just want to make sure you really want me. But there's one more thing Tell you." "What's up?" "Here's the thing: If I'm not there, you don't say a word to the police, no matter what they ask you. Even if they talk you up or accuse you of anything. Will you promise me?" "I can do it." Gulbo, who had been busy all day on Monday, was completely paralyzed. He didn't wake up until nine o'clock on Tuesday morning, sleeping four hours more than usual.After getting up, he went into the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth, and looked in the mirror for a long time before turning off the light and coming out to change clothes.He chose the last clean shirt in his brown briefcase and put on a brown patterned tie. He went downstairs to the hotel restaurant and drank a cup of black coffee, spread a little jam on a piece of whole wheat toast with cheese, and drank a glass of mineral water. After breakfast, he went to the hotel lobby to use the public phone to call Clinton's cell phone. "It's me. How's it going?" "Very unstable." "Clinton, can you handle it?" "Yes, it's the same as before. It's a pity that Luo Tingye is not here. He is better at the action plan than me." "You two are just as good, and you can switch places at any time. In fact, you used to do that all the time." "Intuition. He's always been a little sharper than me." "How are you doing now?" "Jonas is smarter than he thought. We got external support from Morrison, who ran errands, but he was available. Blomkvist's phone lines and cell phones are bugged, and they will be dealt with today Annika and Millennium's office phone. We are working on all relevant office and apartment plans and will do it as soon as possible." "The first thing is to find all the copies..." "Already done, with amazing luck. Annika called Blomkvist this morning and asked him how many copies were out there, and Blomkvist only had one. Erica made copies of the report, but Handed over to Boblanski." "Very well, don't waste any more time." "I know. But it must be done in one fell swoop. If you don't get all the copies at once, you won't succeed." "Yes." "It's a bit complicated because Annika is in Gothenburg today. I sent some outsiders to follow her and they're on the plane now." "Very good." Gulbo couldn't think of what else to say for a while, and finally said, "Thank you, Clinton." "It should. This is much more interesting than sitting around waiting for a kidney transplant." After the two said their goodbyes, Gulbo paid the hotel bill and went out into the street.Now that the big picture has been decided, all it takes is careful planning. He walked up to the Elite Park Avenue Hotel and asked to use the fax machine because he didn't want to do it at his hotel.After faxing the letter I wrote the day before, I went to the avenue to hail a taxi, and halfway through I tore the copy of the letter into pieces and threw it into the trash can. Annika talked with Prosecutor Yeva for fifteen minutes, wondering what charges the prosecutor planned to charge Salander, but soon realized that Yeva had not made up her mind. "For the time being I'll be charging aggravated wounding or attempted homicide for the time being, because Salander took the ax to her father. I suppose you'd plead in self-defense." "Maybe." "Honestly, I'm going to deal with Niederman first now." "I see." "I have spoken to the Attorney General, and they are still discussing whether to refer the charges against your client to a prosecutor in Stockholm, together with the case here." "I guess the case will go to Stockholm," Annika said. "It doesn't matter. But I need to ask the girl, when can I?" "I asked her doctor, Jonathan, and he said that Salander would not be available for questioning for a few days. Not only is she seriously injured, but she is still being given strong painkillers." "I have received a similar report, which, as you can understand, is disappointing. Again, Niederman is my priority. Your client said he did not know where he was hiding." "She didn't know Niedermann at all, just happened to recognize him and followed him to Gosseberga, Zarachenko's farm." "Let's meet again when your client is in better health and can be interviewed," Yeva said. Holding a bouquet of flowers, Gurbo walked into the elevator at Sogenska Hospital with a short-haired woman in a dark jacket.He pressed the elevator door and politely let her go out first, only to see her walk to the service desk. "My name is Annika. I'm a lawyer. I want to see my client Salander again." Gulbo turned his head very slowly, looking in surprise at the woman who stepped out of the elevator before him.While the nurse was checking Annika's papers and looking up the list, he glanced at the lawyer's briefcase. "Room 12," said the nurse. "Thanks, I know where it is," she said, walking down the corridor. "Is there anything I can do for you?" "Yes, I would like to send these flowers to Pottin." "He cannot receive visitors now." "I know, I just want to keep the flowers." "We'll pass it on for you." Gulbo brought the flowers purely as an excuse, mainly because he wanted to understand the layout of the ward.After thanking the nurse, he followed the signs to the stairwell and passed the door of Zarachenko's room, which according to Jonas was Ward No. 14. He was waiting in the stairwell, and through the glass window in the door he saw the nurse carrying the bouquet into Zarachenko's room.When she got back to the nursing station, Gulbo pushed open the door of number fourteen and entered quickly. "Morning, Zarachenko," he said. Zarachenko looked up at the intruder in surprise. "I thought you were dead," he said. "not yet." "what you up to?" "What do you say?" Gulbra pulled up a chair and sat down. "Eighty percent want to see me die." "Then I'll be thankful. How could you be so stupid? We gave you a whole new life and you ended up here." Zarachenko would have laughed if he could.In his opinion, the Swedish secret police are all laymen, Gulbo and Björk are no exception, not to mention that big idiot Bürmann. "This time we have to rescue you from the fire pit again." The adjective sounded harsh to Zarachenko, who recalled the Molotov cocktail he had suffered. "Stop lecturing me. Get me out of here quickly." "I'm here to discuss this with you." Gulbe put the briefcase on his lap, took out a notebook, and turned to the blank pages.Then he stared at Zarachenko with sharp eyes for a long time. "There's one thing I'm curious about...we've done so much for you, are you really going to betray us?" "What do you say?" "It depends on how crazy you are." "Don't call me crazy. I'm just trying to survive. I'll do anything to survive." Gulbe shook his head. "No, Zarachenko, you're doing this because you're bad in your bones. You want to hear what the 'team' has to say, and I'll tell you. We're not going to do anything to help you this time." For a moment, Zaraqenke showed a hesitant expression.He looked at Gulbeau to see if he was just bluffing to scare him. "You have no choice," he said. "Of course there is a choice," Gulbeau replied. "I will……" "You can't do anything." Gulbe took a deep breath, unzipped the outer briefcase pocket, and pulled out a nine-millimeter Smith & Wesson with a gold-plated stock.The gun had been a gift from the British Intelligence Service twenty-five years ago in return for a valuable piece of information: the name of a Philby clerk in MI5. Zarachenke showed a surprised expression, and then laughed out loud. "What are you going to do with the gun? Shoot me? Then you'll spend the rest of your life miserable in prison." "I don't think so." Zarachenko was suddenly very unsure whether Gulbo was playing tricks or not. "It would cause a very big scandal." "I still don't think so. It might get a few headlines, but after a week, no one will remember the name Zarachenko." Zarachenko narrowed his eyes. "You are a despicable person." Gulbo's tone was so indifferent that Zaraqenke's whole body shivered. Gulbo pulled the trigger, and the bullet just hit Zarachenko in the middle of his forehead. At this time, Zarachenko was about to step over the edge of the bed with his artificial leg. It took four or five strokes to stop.Gulbe saw flowery red blood splattered on the wall behind the bedside table. Only then did he realize that he had tinnitus after the gunshot, so he rubbed his left ear with his free hand. He then stood up, put the muzzle of the gun to Zarachenko's temple, and pulled the trigger twice.This time he wants this bastard to die for sure. Salander sat up in shock when she heard the first shot, and her shoulders felt a sharp pain.Then when there were two more beeps, she tried to get out of bed. Annika only came for a few minutes.She sat motionless, trying to discern where the sharp gunshots were coming from.She could tell from Salander's reaction that something terrible was about to happen. "Lie down," she yelled, putting her hand on Salander's chest and pushing her to lie down. Then Annika crossed the room, opened the door, and saw two nurses rushing to the second adjoining room.The first nurse ran to the door and stopped suddenly, screaming, "No, don't!" and took a step backwards, bumping into another nurse. "He has a gun, run!" Annika watched the two of them hide in the room next to Salander. Then a thin, gray-haired man in a houndstooth jacket was seen stepping out of the hallway, a gun in his hand.Annika recognized him as the person who took the elevator upstairs with her. At this time, the two eyes met, and he looked a little confused.Then he aimed his pistol at her and took a step forward.She shrank her head, closed the door with a bang, and looked around in despair.There happened to be a nursing table next to her, so she quickly pushed it to the door and stuck the table under the doorknob. She heard movement, turned her head and saw that Salander was trying to get out of bed again.She stepped forward quickly, wrapped her arms around the client and hugged her up.He helped her into the bathroom and sat on the toilet, tearing off the electrode pads and drip tube halfway.Then she turned and locked the bathroom door, pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket, and called emergency services. Gulbe came to Salander's door, pressed the doorknob, and got stuck, unable to move at all. For a moment he stood outside the door, not knowing what to do.He knew that the lawyer, Annika, was also in the room, and wondered if she had a copy of Bjork's report in her briefcase.But he couldn't get into the ward, and he didn't have the strength to knock the door open. It wasn't planned anyway.Clinton will deal with Annika, and Gulbo will only be in charge of Zarachenko. He looked down the corridor and saw a crowd of nurses, patients, and visitors staring at him.He raised his pistol and fired at a painting on the wall at the end of the corridor.The onlookers disappeared instantly, as if by magic. He took one last look at Salander's room before walking resolutely back to Zarachenko's room and closing the door.He sat in the visitor's chair and watched the Russian traitor before him, who had been such an intimate part of his life for so many years. He sat quietly for nearly ten minutes before he heard movement in the corridor. It turned out that the police had arrived.At this time, he didn't think about anything in particular. He raised the pistol one last time, pointed to his temple, and pulled the trigger. The subsequent development of the matter proved that it was not beneficial to attempt suicide in the hospital.The hospital sent Guerbo to the trauma center as quickly as possible, and was received by Dr. Jonathan, who immediately launched a series of measures to maintain the operation of his major organs. This is Jonathan's second emergency operation in less than a week to remove a full-metal bullet from the human brain tissue.After five hours of surgery, Gulbo was in critical condition but alive. But Gulbo's injury was far more serious than Salander's.He hovered on the edge of life and death for several days. Blomkvist was in a coffee bar on Hornsstrasse when he heard the radio broadcast: An unknown sixty-six-year-old man had been shot and killed in Gothenburg's Sogenska Hospital. Rand.Before he drank his coffee, he picked up his computer bag and hurried to the magazine office on Yot Road.He crossed Marienplatz and was about to turn onto Rue St. Paul when his cell phone rang.He answered while running. "I'm Blomkvist." "Hi, I'm Marlene." "I heard, do you know who the murderer is?" "I don't know yet, Kertesz is chasing him." "I'm on my way. I'll be there in five minutes." Blomkvist met Kertesz just outside the Millennium offices. "Extron has a press conference at three o'clock," Kertesz said. "I'm going to Kings Island right now." "Know what now?" Blomkvist called after him. "Ask Marlene." Kertesz said and left. Blomkvist walked into Erica's—no, Marlene's office, and she was on the phone, writing quickly on a yellow post-it note, waving him away.Blomkvist went into the small kitchen and poured two cups of coffee with milk, each with the logos of the Christian Democratic Youth Party and the Swedish Social Democratic Youth Union.When he came back, Marlene had already finished calling.He handed her the Youth League cup. "Yes, Zarachenko was shot dead at 1:15." She looked at Blomkvist and said, "I was just on the phone with a nurse in Sogenska, and she said the killer was a 70 A man of a few years old sent flowers to Zarachenko a few minutes before the murder. He shot Zarachenko in the head a few times and then committed suicide. Zarachenko is dead. The murderer is barely alive and is undergoing surgery .” Blomkvist finally breathed a little easier.Ever since he heard the news at the coffee bar, he has always been worried that Salander might have killed someone.To do so would greatly hinder their work. "Do you know the murderer's name?" Marlene shook her head.At the same time the phone rang and she picked it up, and from the conversation Blomkvist guessed it was Marlene's special correspondent for Sogenska.So he got up and walked back to his office and sat down. He didn't seem to have been in this office for weeks. The desk was full of unopened mail. He swept it aside and called his sister. "Annika." "It's me, Michel. Have you heard about Sogenska?" "you could put it that way." "Where are you?" "Hospital. That bastard pointed a gun at me too." Blomkvist was at a loss for words for a moment, and it took a few seconds for him to really understand what his sister said. "What the hell... are you there?" "Yes, I have never experienced such a terrible thing." "Are you hurt?" "No, but he tried to break into Salander's room. I jammed the door and we were locked in the bathroom." Blomkvist suddenly felt that the whole world was out of balance.His sister almost... "How is she?" he asked. "She wasn't hurt, I mean at least not in today's incident." He meditated for a moment. "Anika, do you have any information about the killer?" "No idea. He was an elderly man, well dressed. I thought he looked a bit flustered. Never seen him before, but I took the elevator up with him a few minutes before it happened." "Zalachenko is really dead, without a doubt?" "Yeah. I heard three shots and I overheard all three in the head. It's a mess here though, a bunch of cops here, and evacuating some seriously ill right now that shouldn't be moving and seriously injured. When the police arrived at the scene, one of them planned to interrogate Liz without even asking about her condition. I had to severely reprimand them.” Inspector Erlander saw Annika from the door of Salander's ward, saw her cell phone was stuck to her ear, and waited for her to finish speaking. Two hours after the murder, there was still chaos in the hallway.Zarachenko's room has been sealed off.The doctors started rescue immediately after the shooting, but they gave up soon after, and he was hopeless.The body was sent to the forensic office, and the police did their best to conduct investigations without destroying the crime scene. Erlander's cell phone rang. It was Frederick Manbell from the investigation team. "The murderer has been identified," Mabel said. "His name is Evert Gulbe. He is seventy-eight years old." Seventy-eight years old.It is rare to have such an old murderer. "Who is this Evert Gulbe?" "Retired, living in Lahelm, supposed to be a tax lawyer. I got a call from the NSA saying they just started a preliminary investigation against him recently." "When and why?" "Don't know when, but he apparently has a weird habit of sending crazy threatening letters to government officials." "Like who?" "The Attorney General is one of them." Erland sighed.It turned out to be a madman.fanatics. "The National Security Agency received calls from several newspapers this morning, saying that they had received a letter from Gulbo. The Department of Justice also called because Gulbo named Bodine to die." "I want a copy of the letter." "Ask the National Security Bureau?" "Yes, what else? If necessary, you can drive to Stockholm to get it yourself. I will see it as soon as I get back to the headquarters. There is still about an hour." He thought for a moment and asked another question. "Did the NSA call you?" "I didn't say that just now." "I mean...they called you, not you?" "That's right." Erland closed the phone. He didn't understand what was wrong with the National Security Agency, why it suddenly felt necessary to contact the police, and it was voluntary.Usually they are silent. Waddenshire pushed open the door of the "team" office, and Clinton, who was resting inside, sat up carefully upon seeing this. "What's going on here?" Wadenshe yelled at the top of his voice, "Gulbo killed Zarachenko and shot himself!" "I know," Clinton said. "You know?" Wadenshire yelled, his whole face flushed, as if he was about to have a stroke. "He shot himself, you know? He tried to kill himself. Is he crazy?" "You mean he's still alive?" "Alive for the time being, but with severe brain damage." Clinton sighed, "Oh, what a pity." There was deep sadness in his voice. "It's a pity?" Waddenshire exploded again: "Gulbeau is crazy, don't you understand..." Clinton interrupted him. "Gulbo has cancer that has spread to his stomach, large intestine and bladder. He has been near death for several months and will only last a few months at most." "cancer?" "He's been carrying a gun with him for the past six months, intending to kill himself before being tortured into a vegetative state if the pain becomes unbearable. But he's finally able to do one thing for the 'team'. He's gone very far. With dignity." Waddenshire was so excited that he could hardly control himself. "You know? You know he wants to kill Zarachenko?" "Of course. His job is to make sure that Zarachenko never gets a chance to speak again. And you know, that man is not threatened or unreasonable." “可是你难道不明白这会变成多大的丑闻吗？你也和古尔博一样精神错乱了吗？” 克林顿费力地站起来，直视瓦登榭的眼睛，同时交给他一叠传真复印件。 “这是行动决策。我为好友感到哀恸，但我恐怕很快也要随他而去。至于丑闻……不过就是一个退休的税务律师写了偏执的信给报社、警方和司法部。这里有一份样本。古尔博把一切都怪罪到札拉千科头上，从帕尔梅遭暗杀到企图以氯毒害瑞典人民。写信的人根本就是个疯子，有些地方还字迹模糊、用大写字体、底下画线或用惊叹号强调。我尤其欣赏他连空白处都写字。” 瓦登榭愈看信愈心惊，不觉抬手擦擦额头。 克林顿说：“无论发生什么事，札拉千科的死都和'小组'无关，开枪的只不过是一个发疯的退休老人。”他顿了一下。“重要的是从现在开始，你也得上我们的船，而且别让船摇晃。”这个病人凝视瓦登榭的眼神中，透露着钢铁般的意志。“你必须了解，'小组'就是整体国防的尖兵，我们是瑞典的最后防线，任务就是为国家的安全把关。其他一切都不重要。” 瓦登榭用怀疑的眼神看着克林顿。 “我们是不存在的人。”克林顿又继续说：“谁也不曾感激过我们。没有人想作的决定，尤其是所有政治人物都不想作的决定，得由我们来做。”他说到政治人物这几个字时，颤抖的声音充满轻蔑。“照我说的做，'小组'或许还能存续。要想有这种结果，我们就得果断地采取强硬手段。” 瓦登榭感觉内心的恐慌逐渐升高。 在国王岛警局公关室里，柯特兹拼命地写，试着记下台上所说的每句话。埃克斯壮检察官已经开始了。他解释说目前已经决定将哥塞柏加杀警案——也就是尼德曼遭通缉一案——交由哥德堡的一位检察官负责侦查，至于其他关于尼德曼的调查工作则由埃克斯壮本人处理。尼德曼是达格与米亚命案的嫌犯，但并未提及毕尔曼律师。此外，埃克斯壮还得侦查并起诉涉嫌犯下一大串罪行的莎兰德。 他解释说，有鉴于哥德堡当天发生的多起事件，其中包括莎兰德的父亲波汀遭射杀，他才决定公开这项信息。召开这场记者会最直接的原因就是想澄清已经在媒体圈散布的谣言，他自己就接到好几通关于这些谣言的电话。 “根据最新得到的消息，我可以告诉大家，波汀的女儿目前因涉嫌杀害父亲而在押，她与今天早上发生的事件无关。” “那么凶手是谁？”《回声日报》的记者喊着问道。 “今天下午一点十五分向波汀开枪致其死亡，随后企图自尽的人，已经确认身份。他已经七十八岁，一直在接受末期癌症以及因癌症所引起的精神疾病的治疗。” “他和莎兰德有任何关系吗？” “没有。此人显然是根据自己偏执的妄想而单独行动的悲剧性人物。国安局最近也对此人展开调查，因为他写了许多信给知名政治人物与媒体，信中语气明显很不稳定。就在今天早上，多家报社与政府机关也收到他威胁要杀死波汀的信。” “警方为何不保护波汀？” “信是昨晚才寄出的，因此寄达的时间正好与命案同时，根本来不及反应。” “凶手叫什么名字？” “在通知他的家属之前，我们不会公布这项信息。” “他是什么样的背景？” “据我了解，他原本是会计师兼税务律师，已经退休十五年。调查工作还在进行中，但从他寄出的信中可以看出，如果社会大众多一点关怀，这场悲剧就可以避免了。” “他还威胁其他人吗？” “我得到的信息是有的，但我无法告诉你们任何细节。” “这对莎兰德的案子有什么影响吗？” “目前没有。我们有波汀亲口向警员陈述的口供，也有大量对莎兰德不利的鉴定证据。” “那么波汀企图杀害女儿的报告呢？” “那个也在调查中，但确实有很明显的迹象显示他企图杀害女儿。目前我们能肯定的是，这是一个不正常的悲剧家庭，成员彼此强烈仇视的案子。” 柯特兹搔搔耳朵。这时他发现其他记者也都和他一样振笔疾书。 毕约克听说索格恩斯卡医院枪击案的新闻后，几乎惊恐得难以自制。整个背疼痛不已。 他花了一个小时才下定决心，接着拿起电话，想打给住在拉赫尔姆的昔日保护者。No one heard. 他细听新闻，听见一段记者会内容摘要。枪杀札拉千科的是一位七十八岁的税务专家。 天哪，七十八岁。 他又试了一次古尔博的电话，仍未接通。 最后他终于受不了不安的煎熬，再也无法待在租来的斯莫达拉勒避暑小屋。他感到脆弱且不受保护。他需要思考的时间与空间，于是收拾了衣物、止痛药与盥洗用具。因为不想用自己的电话，便跛着脚走到杂货店打公共电话到兰梭特旧日灯塔改建的旅馆订房。兰梭特地处偏远，应该不会有人上那儿找他。他预定留宿两星期。 他瞄了一眼手表，要赶上最后一班渡轮就得快一点，因此忍着背痛尽速回到小屋。进屋后，他直接到厨房确认咖啡壶已切掉电源，接着到门厅拿行李。此时他的目光无意间扫到客厅，不禁吓了一跳，立刻停下脚步。 起初眼前的景象令他迷惑。 天花板的灯不知被谁给取下，放在茶几上，改吊了一条绳索，正下方还摆了一张平时放在厨房的凳子。 毕约克望着绳圈，实在不明所以。 接着听见身后有声响，膝盖竟不由自主地打颤。 他缓缓转过身去。 有两个男人站在那里，外表看起来像是南欧人。他还来不及反应，他们便已从容上前紧抓他的双臂，将他抬离地面带往凳子。他试图反抗，一阵有如刀刃般的刺痛窜过背脊。他感觉到自己被举放到凳子上，几乎整个人都瘫软了。 陪同乔纳斯的是一个绰号法伦的男子，此人年轻时是专业窃贼，后来及时改行当锁匠。罗廷耶最初在一九八六年雇用法伦为小组工作，那次的行动需要强行进入某个无政府组织的领袖家中。此后便不时会征召他，直到九十年代中期这类行动逐渐减少为止。当天一早，克林顿再次找上法伦分派任务。法伦每工作十分钟，便可净拿一万克朗的酬劳，但他也得发誓不向行动目标窃取财物。“小组”毕竟不是犯罪集团。 法伦并不清楚克林顿代表谁，但应该和军方有关。他看过杨·库卢写的书，他没有提出任何问题，但在被老雇主遗忘这么多年后还能重披战袍的感觉真好。 他的任务是开门。他是闯空门的专家。尽管如此，还是花了五分钟才撬开布隆维斯特住处的门锁。接下来乔纳斯进入屋内，法伦则在楼梯间等候。 “我进来了。”乔纳斯对着免持听筒手机说道。 “好。”耳机传来克林顿的声音。“慢慢来，跟我说你看到什么。” “我现在在门厅，右手边有一个衣柜和衣帽架，左手边是浴室。剩下是一个开放空间，约五十平方米。右手边最里面有一个小小的美式厨房。” “有没有书桌或是……” “他好像是利用餐桌或坐在客厅沙发工作……等一下。” 克林顿等着。 “对了，没错，餐桌上有一个活页夹，毕约克的报告就在里头。看起来像是原件。” “非常好。桌上还有其他值得注意的东西吗？” “有几本书。维涅的回忆录、艾瑞克的《秘警的权力斗争》。还有另外四五本类似的书。” “有电脑吗？” "No." “保险箱呢？” “没有……我没看到。” “慢慢来，要作地毯式的搜索。莫天森回报说布隆维斯特还在办公室。你戴了手套吧？” "certainly." 埃兰德趁着和安妮卡两人都刚好没有讲手机的空档交谈了一下，随后走进莎兰德的房间，向她伸出手自我介绍，并打招呼问她感觉如何。莎兰德只是面无表情地瞪着他看。他于是转向安妮卡。 “我需要问几个问题。” "it is good." “你能不能告诉我今天早上发生了什么事？” 安妮卡说出了与莎兰德反锁在浴室之前，自己所见所闻与反应。埃兰德斜觑莎兰德一眼，又将目光移回律师身上。 “所以你很确定他来到这个房门前？” “我听到他试图压下门把。” “这点你非常确定吗？人在害怕或兴奋的时候很容易有幻想。” “我确实听到他在门外。他看见了我，还举枪指着我，他知道我在这个房里。” “有什么理由让你认为他是有计划的吗？也就是事先就打算也要对你开枪。” “我不知道。他拿枪瞄准我时，我立刻头往后缩，将门卡住。” “这是明智的做法，把你的当事人带进浴室更加明智。这些门太薄，他要是开枪，子弹会直穿而过。我想知道的是他攻击你是为了私人原因，或者纯粹只因为你在看他而起的反应。你是走廊上最靠近他的人。” “除了两个护士之外。” “你是否觉得他认识你或是认出了你？” "do not think so." “他会不会在报上见过你？你曾因为几件案子被广泛报道而大出风头。” “有可能，我不确定。” “而你从未见过他？” “在电梯里见过，那是我第一次见到这个人。” “这件事我不知道。你们有交谈吗？” “没有。我和他同时进电梯，我隐约注意了他几秒钟，他一手拿着花，另一手拎着公文包。” “你们的眼神有交会吗？” “没有。他直视正前方。” “是谁先进电梯？” “两人差不多同时。” “他的表情是否迷惑或者……” “我说不上来。他走进电梯，笔直地站着，手里拿着花。” "and then?" “我们在同一层楼出电梯，我就来找我的当事人了。” “你直接就来这里吗？” “是……不是。其实我先去了服务台出示证件。检察官禁止我的当事人会客。” “当时这个人在哪里？” 安妮卡犹疑着。“我不太确定。应该在我后面吧。不对，等一下……是他先出电梯，但停下来帮我按着门。我不是百分之百肯定，不过他好像也去了服务台，我只是脚程比他快。护士们应该知道。” 上了年纪、彬彬有礼的杀人犯。埃兰德暗想。 “是的，他的确去了服务台。”他证实道：“他的确和护士说过话，还遵循护士的指示将花留在柜台。你没有看见吗？” “没有。我一点印象都没有。” 埃兰德已经没有问题要问，内心被沮丧感啃噬着。他以前曾有过这种感觉，也学会了把它当成直觉引发的警讯。好像有些什么难以捉摸，有些什么不太对劲。 凶手的身份证实为艾佛特·古尔博，当过会计师，偶尔也担任业务顾问兼税务律师。年纪已经很大。因为疯狂地写恐吓信给公众人物，最近国安局已对他启动初步调查。 埃兰德根据多年经验知道外头的疯子多的是，甚至有些病态狂会跟踪名人，并躲在后者别墅附近的树林里求爱。当他们的爱没有获得回报——当然不会有回报！——这份爱很快就会转变成强烈恨意。曾有些跟踪狂从德国尾随一名二十一岁的流行乐团主唱到意大利，参与她每场演唱会，后来却因为主唱不肯抛弃一切与他们交往而发火。也有些好伸张正义者再三抱怨真实或想象的不公正，有时甚至演变成恐吓行为。另外还有精神病人与阴谋论者，总之是一些能解读凡人世界看不见的信息的疯子。 像这类将幻想化为行动的愚蠢实例不胜枚举。前外交部部长安娜·林德遇刺不正是这种疯狂冲动行为的结果吗？ 但一想到有个精神异常的会计师——或不论他是何身份——一手拿花、一手拿枪地晃进医院，再想到他竟然枪决了警方——而且是由他负责——调查的对象，埃兰德巡官实在不敢苟同。死者在官方记录中名为卡尔·阿克索·波汀，但据布隆维斯特指称，他的真实姓名是亚历山大·札拉千科，一个背叛苏俄的浑蛋情报人员，也是黑帮分子。 札拉千科至少是个证人，但在最糟的情况下，他也可能与一连串命案有重大关联。埃兰德曾获准向札拉千科进行两次短暂的问话，尽管在这两次谈话中后者坚称自己的清白，埃兰德却丝毫不为所动。 杀害札拉千科的人也对莎兰德，或至少对她的律师感兴趣，试图进入她的病房。 后来他企图自杀。医生们表示他很可能会成功，尽管他的身体尚未接收到停止运作的信息，古尔博能出庭的几率已微乎其微。 埃兰德不喜欢这个情况，一点也不喜欢。但他没有证据证明古尔博还有其他不同于外表显现的开枪动机，因此他决定小心行事。他看着安妮卡。 “我决定让莎兰德搬到另一个房间。服务台右侧连廊上有一间病房，就安全上的考虑，住那里比较好，因为房门刚好正对服务台与护理站。除了你之外，不许其他人探病。没有索格恩斯卡的医生或护士允许，谁也不准进她房间。我还会在她房门外安排二十四小时的警卫。” “你觉得她有危险？” “没有任何迹象显示她有危险，但我想小心一点。” 莎兰德倾听着律师与警员的谈话。安妮卡的回答竟能如此精确、清楚又巨细靡遗，令她十分讶异。而律师在压力下保持镇定的工夫，尤其令她印象深刻。 不过，自从被安妮卡拖下床、进入浴室后，她便头痛欲裂。她出于本能，总是尽可能不和医护人员打交道，她不喜欢求助或是显现出柔弱的样子。但头实在痛得无法好好思考，只得伸手按铃呼叫护士。 安妮卡这趟哥德堡之行原本只是揭开长期工作的一段短暂而必要的序曲，是为了认识莎兰德、问问她目前的状况，顺便将他们兄妹俩为这场官司所拼凑出来的初步策略大纲告知当事人。她原本打算当晚便返回斯德哥尔摩，不料在医院碰上这些意外，害她和莎兰德都还没有机会好好说话。莎兰德的情况比她先前听说的更糟，不但头部剧痛还发高烧，一个名叫安德林的医生不得不开给她强力止痛剂、抗生素等等药物。因此，当莎兰德一搬进新病房，门外也开始有警卫站岗后，院方便要求安妮卡离开，而且态度十分强硬。 已经下午四点半了，她不知如何是好。可以回斯德哥尔摩，但明天可能又得乘车到哥德堡。或者也可以留下来过夜，但当事人可能情况太糟，明天仍不得会客。她并没有订旅馆房间。主要是为受虐妇女辩护的她，财源并不丰厚，昂贵的旅馆开支最好能免则免。她先打电话回家，接着打给律师同侪莉莉安·尤瑟弗松，她是妇女网络的会员也是法学院的老同学。 “我现在在哥德堡。”她说：“今晚本来想回家，但发生了一些事，所以得留下来过夜。能不能住你那里？” “来呀，那会很好玩。我们都多久没见了！” “不会打扰你吧？” “不会，当然不会。不过我搬家了，现在住在一条和林内街交叉的小街道。我有一间客房，有兴趣的话，晚一点可以一块上酒吧。” “我要是还有精力的话。”安妮卡说：“什么时候方便？” 安妮卡和友人说好六点左右到达。 她搭巴士到林内街，在一家希腊餐馆待了半小时，因为觉得饿，便点了烤羊肉串色拉。她坐了许久，回想一整天发生的事，肾上腺素已消磨殆尽的此刻不由得微微打颤，不过她对自己还算满意。在最危险的那一刻，仍始终保持冷静，本能地作出正确决定。知道自己能有临危不乱的反应，这种感觉挺愉快的。 过了一会儿，她从公文包拿出随身手册，翻开到记事部分，仔细地读过一遍。她对于哥哥为她摘要的计划充满疑虑，当时乍听之下很合理，现在看来却不太完善。即便如此，她还是不打算退出。 六点一到，她付了钱，徒步走到莉莉安位于橄榄谷街的住处，按了朋友给的大门密码。进入楼梯间正要找电灯开关，忽然遭人袭击。有人出其不意地将她推撞到门边的瓷砖墙面，她的头遭到猛力撞击，立刻痛得不支倒地。 下一刻她听见脚步声迅速离去，接着大门打开后又关上。她勉强站起身来，用手摸摸额头，手掌沾了血。what the hell?她走到大街上，正好瞥见一个人从街角转进斯维亚广场。受到惊吓的她呆站了一分钟左右，才又走回门边按密码。 这时她发觉公文包不见了。遇上抢劫了。几秒钟后她才开始感到害怕。糟了，札拉千科活页夹。恐慌不安的感觉开始从心窝往上升。 她缓缓地坐到楼梯阶上。 接着忽然跳起来，手伸进夹克口袋。随身手册。Thank goodness.离开餐厅时她把手册塞进口袋，没有放回公文包。那里头写了莎兰德一案的策略摘要，一点一点都写得清清楚楚。 随后她摇摇晃晃爬上六楼，用力敲着朋友的门。 半小时后她才真正平静下来，打电话给哥哥。她的一只眼已经有瘀血，眉毛上方划出一道伤口还在流血。莉莉安用酒精帮她消毒后，贴了一块绷带。不，她不想去医院。好，来杯茶也好。这时她才又开始能够理性地思考。第一件事就是打电话给布隆维斯特。 他还在杂志社办公室，和柯特兹与玛琳一起搜寻关于杀害札拉千科的凶手的资料。他听着安妮卡叙述事发经过，愈听愈心惊。 “没有骨折吧？”他问道。 “眼睛瘀青。只要稍微冷静一下就没事了。” “你抵抗了抢匪，是这样吗？” “麦可，我的公文包被抢了，里头有你给我的札拉千科报告。” “没关系，我还可以再复印一份……” 他话说到一半，顿时觉得寒毛直竖。先是札拉千科，接着是安妮卡。 他关上电脑，塞进肩背包后，不发一语便快速地离开办公室，跑步回到贝尔曼路的公寓又跑着上楼。 The door is locked. 一进家门，就发现放在餐桌上的活页夹已不翼而飞。也不必费力寻找了，他很清楚原来放的位置。他颓坐在餐厅椅子上，脑中一片乱糟糟。 有人来过他的公寓。有人企图湮灭札拉千科的痕迹。 他和妹妹的副本都不见了。 包柏蓝斯基手上还有一份。 但还在吗？ 布隆维斯特起身走到电话边，刚拿起话筒随即定住。有人来过他的住处。他满心狐疑地盯着电话看，然后拿出手机。 但要窃听手机通话何其容易？ 他慢慢地将手机放到室内机旁边，四下看了看。 我现在遭遇的显然是专业级的对手。他们可以不用破坏门锁轻易闯入，窃听想必也是轻而易举。 他再度坐下来。 看着电脑袋。 要入侵我的电子邮件有多难？莎兰德只要五分钟就能办到。 他思考了许久，又走回去用市内电话打给妹妹，遣词用字十分谨慎。 "How are you?" “我没事，麦可。” “你把你到达索格恩斯卡医院后到遭人袭击中间发生的事，全部跟我说一遍。” 安妮卡花十分钟叙述完毕。布隆维斯特对于其中隐含的意义不置一词，只是不断问问题直到自己满意为止。他的口气仿佛一个焦虑的哥哥，但内心却以截然不同的层面重建关键重点。 她是在当天下午四点半决定留在哥德堡。她用手机打给朋友，问到了地址和大门密码。六点整，抢匪已经在楼梯间内等她。 她的手机受到监听。这是唯一可能的解释。 也就是说他也受到了监听。 否则实在说不过去。 “札拉千科报告不见了。”安妮卡又说一遍。 布隆维斯特踌躇不语。无论是谁偷走报告，都已经知道他手上那份也被偷了。要主动提起听起来才自然。 “我的也是。”他说。 "what?" 他说当他回到家，原本放在餐桌上的蓝