Chapter 19 Chapter Nineteen

Salander finished writing her autobiography at 4 a.m. on a Friday morning and sent a copy to Blomkvist via Yahoo's "Stupid Table" community.Then lie quietly on the bed and stare at the ceiling. She knew that she would be twenty-seven years old on the eve of May Day this year, but she didn't even think about her birthday at the time.She was imprisoned, as in St. Stephen's.If things don't go her way, she may have to spend many more birthdays in some form of incarceration. She won't let that happen. When she was locked up last time, she was just about to enter puberty.Now she has grown up and has more knowledge and skills.She wondered how long it would take to escape safely and settle in another country, establishing a new identity and a new life for herself.

She got out of bed and went into the bathroom to look in the mirror.My feet were no longer limping, I felt my buttocks with my fingers, and the wounds were healed and scabbed. Then I twisted my arms and stretched my left shoulder back and forth. It felt a little tight, but it was almost healed.She knocked on her head again, and although she was pierced by a full metal bullet, her brain didn't seem to have suffered much damage. How lucky. Before she got the computer, she had been imagining how to escape the locked ward of Sogernska Hospital. Then Dr. Jonathan and Blomkvist smuggled in her PDA, disrupting her plans.After she read Blomkvist's article, she kept ruminating on it.She did a risk assessment, considered his plans, weighed her chances, and finally decided to listen to him.She wants to test the system.Blomkvist had convinced her that she had nothing more to lose, and that he could offer a very different kind of escape.If the plan failed, she would just plan to escape from St. Stephen's or some other madhouse.

What really made her decide to play the game the way Blomkvist did was the desire for revenge. She didn't forgive anyone. Zarachenko, Björk and Biermann were all dead. Yet Tyler Pollyan was alive. And her brother, that Niederman, too, except he wasn't her problem to solve.Yes, he helped kill and bury her alive, but that seems to be a minor role.If you run into him someday, let's talk about it then, before then he is a problem for the police. But Blomkvist was right: there must have been other people behind the conspiracy, unknown to her, who had shaped her life.She had to find out the names and identities of these people one by one.

So she decided to follow Blomkvist's plan, and therefore wrote a very short and blunt autobiography in forty pages, describing the naked truth of her life.She is very precise with words.Everything in the autobiography is fact.She accepted Blomkvist's statement: the Swedish media had slandered her with all kinds of ridiculous words, and such a little nonsense could not further damage her reputation. But this autobiography can also be said to be false, because she did not tell the whole truth.Nor did she want to. She went back to bed and covered herself with the quilt. There is an indescribable irritability in my heart.She took out the little-used notebook Annika had given her, and turned to the first page, which read:

(x^3+y^3=z^3) Last winter in the Caribbean, she spent weeks frantically working on Fermat's theorem.After returning to Sweden, before she started looking for Zarachenko, she kept playing with this formula.What was bothering her now was that she seemed to see the answer...she found it. But can't remember what it was. Not remembering something was an alien phenomenon to Salander.In order to test, she randomly selected the HTML code of the webpage on the Internet, took a glance at it and memorized it, and then recited it completely. Her memory, which she had always regarded as a curse, was not lost.

The brain works as usual. Except that she felt as if she had seen the answer to Fermat's theorem, but couldn't remember how, when, or where. The worst part is that she has no interest in it.Fermat's theorem no longer fascinated her.This is not a good sign.She used to be like this, she would be obsessed with a certain problem, but once she untied it, she lost interest. That was exactly how she felt about Fermat.He was no longer the devil riding on her shoulders, grabbing her attention and clouding her sanity.It was just an ordinary formula, a scribble on a piece of paper, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

It bothers her a lot.She puts down her notebook. Should sleep for a while. But she picked up the PDA and went back online.After thinking about it, she entered Armansky's hard drive, which she hadn't looked at since she got the computer.Armansky was working with Blomkvist, though there was no particular need to know what he was doing now. She absently reads his e-mail. Discovered Rosin's assessment report for Erika's residence.She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Erica Bayeux meets a stalker. Then I saw Susan's message. She apparently stayed at Erica's house the night before, and the report was mailed late at night.Salander looked at the time of posting the letter. It was almost three o'clock in the morning, and the report said that Erica had discovered that the diary, letters, and photos that had been placed in the drawer of the bedroom cabinet had been stolen, as well as a very personal video tape.

After discussing with Miss Bayeux, we determined that it was stolen while she was in Naka Hospital.There was no one in the house for about two and a half hours, and the defective alarm installed in the Naka Security Office was not activated.At least one of Erika and Rosin was present at other times before the theft was discovered. Conclusion: Erika's stalker has been around, so saw her get into a taxi, and probably also saw her injured.Then take the opportunity to enter the house. Salander updated Armansky's hard drive, which she had downloaded, and then shut down, lost in thought.There are mixed feelings in my heart.

She had no reason to like Erica.She remembered the humiliation of seeing Erica and Blomkvist walking down Horns Road on New Year's Eve a year and a half ago. It was the silliest moment of her life, and she would never allow herself to feel like it again. She still remembered the terrible hatred in her heart at that time, and the thought of running after her to hurt Erica. How embarrassing. She is cured. But there was no reason to sympathize with Erika either. She wondered what was recorded on that deeply personal videotape.She also has a very personal video of the bastard lawyer Bierman raping her, which is currently in Blomkvist's custody.She wondered how she would react if someone broke into her house and stole the CD.Ordinarily, Blomkvist did the same, but the motive was not to hurt her.

Humph.nerve-wracking. On Tuesday night, Erica couldn't sleep at all.She limped impatiently up and down while Susan watched.Her anxiety hung over the house like a thick fog. At 2:30, Susan managed to persuade Erica to go to bed. Although she was still awake, Susan was relieved when she heard the bedroom door close.She opened her laptop and sent Armansky an e-mail outlining the situation.As soon as the mail was sent, Erica was heard getting out of bed and walking around again. At seven-thirty, she told Erica to call the newspaper in sick.Erica reluctantly agreed, and then fell asleep on the sofa in the living room facing the plywood-sealed floor-to-ceiling windows.Susan covered her with a blanket, made coffee, and called Armansky to explain that she was there and that Rosin had called her.

"Stay there with Erica," Armansky told her. "You'll sleep a few hours yourself." "I don't know how this is billed..." "Let's talk about it later." Erica slept until 2:30 in the afternoon, and woke up to find Susan reclining on the sofa across the living room, asleep. Figuelaura was up late on Friday morning and didn't have time to go for a morning run.She blamed Blomkvist and dragged him out of bed after the shower. Blomkvist drove to work at the magazine, and everyone was surprised to see him get up so early.He muttered something perfunctory and went to make coffee, then called Marlene and Kertesz into the office.They spent three hours discussing the articles in the themed issue and keeping track of the progress of the book. "Dag's book was sent for printing yesterday." Marlene said, "It goes through the normal process of perfect bound paperback." "The special issue will be titled The Liz Salander Story." Kertesz said, "The date of the court session will definitely be changed, but it is tentatively scheduled for Wednesday, July 13th. The magazine will be printed by then. It’s just that there’s no release date yet. You can decide when the time comes.” "Okay, then Zarachenko's book is still a nightmare until now. I plan to name the book "The Team". The first half is basically the content of the magazine, starting with the murder of Dag and Mia. , followed by the pursuit of Salander, Zarachenko, and Niedermann. The second half is about everything we know about the 'team'." "Miike, even if the printing company breaks the record for us every time, we have to hand over the final draft to them by the end of this month at the latest." Marlene said: "Christ also needs two or three days to do the layout design, and the layout is very difficult. Let's say one week, so there's only two weeks left to finish the text. I don't know how we're going to do it." "We didn't have time to dig up the whole story," admits Blomkvist, "but I don't think it would take a whole year to dig up. The point of this book is to explain what happened, and if there are no sources Just to put it bluntly, if it's our guess, we need to make it clear. So we need to write what happened, what is supported by evidence, and what is our speculation." "It's ambiguous," Kertesz said. Blomkvist shook his head and said, "If I say an NSA agent broke into my house, and there's videotape of this and this guy, that's proof. If I say he was sent by the 'team', then It's just speculation, but based on all the facts we've stated, it's a reasonable guess. Does that make sense?" "Have." "I don't have time to write these missing parts myself. I have a few articles here, Kertesz, you have to piece them together. It's about fifty pages. Marlene, you support Kertesz, as we edit Duggar's book. What do you two think of all three of our names appearing on the front and back of the book?" "Okay." Marlene said, "But we have more urgent problems." "For example?" "We've got a ton of stuff to do here while you put your heart and soul into Zarachenko's story..." "You mean I'm not helping?" Marlene nodded. "You're right, sorry." "No need to apologize. We all know that once you're headlong into a story, nothing else matters. But the rest of us can't, especially me. Erica can count on me, I have Kertesz, and he's top notch Talent, but he still spends the same amount of time on your story. Even if you are included, we are still two editors short." "two?" "And I'm not Erica. I'm not as proficient as she is. I'm still learning. Monica works like hell, and so does Rota. No one can stop for a second to think." "This is only temporary, as long as the court is open..." "No, Michael, it won't be over then. Once the court starts, it's going to be a bigger mess. You remember the time of the Wennerstrom incident, you're going to be running between TV studios I ran away, and I didn’t see anyone for three months.” Blomkvist sighed, "What advice do you have?" "If we're going to keep the magazine up and running by the fall, we're going to need new blood. At least two, maybe three. We really don't have enough editorial staff to handle the situation right now, and..." "what?" "And I don't think I'm ready." "I see, Marlene." "I'm serious. I'm a great editorial secretary and it's easy to have Erica as my boss. We agreed to let me try this summer... well, I've tried, I'm not a managing editor. .” "Nonsense," Kertesz said. Marlene shook her head. "I get it," Blomkvist said, "but don't forget these are extraordinary times." Marlene smiled wryly. "Take it as an employee's complaint." Throughout Friday, the Constitutional Safeguards Action Group tried to make sense of Blomkvist's message.Two team members moved to the temporary office in the Peace House Square to compile all the data.But it is very inconvenient, because the internal network of the police station is in the main office, so they have to go back and forth between the two buildings several times a day, even though it is only a ten-minute walk, it is still very tiring.By the time of the lunch break, much evidence had been collected proving that both Clinton and Rottinger had ties to the secret police in the sixties and early seventies. Luo Tingye was born in a military intelligence unit, and for several years was responsible for coordinating the connection between the military defense and the secret police.Clinton has a background in the Air Force. In 1967, he began to serve in the bodyguard team of the secret police. Both had left the NSA: Clinton in 1971, Rottinger in 1973.Clinton went into business as a management consultant, Rottinger into the public service, doing investigative work for the Swedish Atomic Energy Agency, stationed in London. It wasn't until the evening that Figuelaura was able to make a more definite report to Aiklint: Clinton's and Rottinger's occupations after leaving the NSA were all false.What Clinton is doing is hard to track, with almost any possibility as a corporate adviser, and someone in that role doesn't necessarily have to report his activities to the government.It was clear from his tax returns that he made a lot of money, but most of his clients were companies headquartered in Switzerland or Liechtenstein, so it was not easy to prove that his business was fraudulent. But Rottinger, who is supposed to work in London, never set foot in his office there.The office building he claimed was actually demolished in 1973 and replaced by an extension to King's Cross station.Someone obviously made a mistake when they fabricated the facts.During the day, Figelora's team interviewed retirees from the Swedish Atomic Energy Agency, none of whom had heard of Rottinger. "Now that we know," Akelint said, "the next step is to find out what they're doing." Figolaura said, "What about Blomkvist?" "What's the meaning?" "We promised that if we found out anything about Clinton and Rottinger we would tell him." Ai Kelinte thought about it. "If he continues to dig, he will find out sooner or later. We still maintain a good relationship with him. Tell him what you find. But use your judgment well." Figuelaura promised to be careful.They spent a few more minutes arranging for the weekend, with two people on Figelora's team continuing to work and her own time off. Then she clocked off work and headed to the gym in St. Eric's Square, where she stepped up for two hours to make up for lost time.She got home at seven, took a shower, made a light dinner, and turned on the TV to listen to the news.But she was starting to feel irritable, so she put on her running clothes and stopped to think when she got to the door.Damn Blomkvist.She turned on her phone and dialed his Ericsson. "We found a lot of information about Rottinger and Clinton." "tell me." "I'll tell you when you come." "Sounds like blackmail," Blomkvist said. "I just put on my jogging clothes to burn off some extra energy." Figuelaura said, "Should I go out now, or wait for you to come?" "Can I go after nine o'clock?" "OK." At eight o'clock on Friday night, Dr. Jonathan came to see Salander.He sat in the visitor's chair and leaned back. "Do you want to examine me?" Salander asked. "No, not tonight." "it is good." "We studied your condition today and informed the prosecutor that we are going to release you from the hospital." "I see." "They want to send you to the detention center in Gothenburg tonight." "So fast?" He nodded. "There is an opinion from Stockholm. I said that the last few tests will be done on you tomorrow, so you cannot be discharged from the hospital before Sunday." "why?" "I don't know, I'm probably just angry at them for being so domineering." Salander gave a real smile.Given her a few years, she should be able to turn Dr. Jonathan into a true anarchist.In short, he actually has a tendency to be disobedient. "Frederick Clinton," Blomkvist said, staring at the ceiling on Figuolaura's bed. "If you light that cigarette, I'll put it in your navel and squeeze it out," Figuelaura said. Blomkvist looked in wonder at the cigarettes he had just taken out of his jacket. "Sorry," he said, "may I use your balcony?" "As long as you remember to brush your teeth afterwards." He wrapped a sheet around his waist.She followed him to the kitchen, poured a large glass of cold water, and leaned against the balcony door frame. "Clinton first?" "If he's still alive, it's a connection to the past." "He was dying, he needed a kidney transplant, and the dialysis and other treatments took him most of his time." "But he's alive. We should contact him and confront him directly. Maybe he'll tell the truth." "No." Figolaura said: "First, this is within the scope of the preliminary investigation and has to be handled by the police, so there is no so-called 'we'; information to you, but you have pledged not to take any action that might interfere with the investigation." Blomkvist smiled at her and said, "Wow, the secret police are pulling my dog's leash," before wringing out his cigarette. "Michael, this is not a joke." Erica was still on edge as she drove to work on Saturday morning.She originally thought that she had begun to grasp the real knack of editing newspapers, and planned to take a weekend off to reward herself—it was the first time since she entered the Swedish Morgan Post—unexpectedly, her most intimate items and the Bosher’s report It was all stolen, so she couldn't relax at all. Erica had barely slept the night before, spending most of the time in the kitchen with Susan, thinking that the "poison pen" would strike and spread some pictures that might hit her hard.What a convenient tool the Internet is for these perverts.Omg...the picture of me and my husband having sex with another man...I'll end up on half the world's websites. Panic and fear haunted her all night. It took Susan a lot of talk and words to finally coax her into bed. She got up at eight o'clock and drove to the office.She couldn't hide from her face.If there's a storm brewing, she wants to be the first to face it before anyone else gets wind of it. But in the newsroom on Saturday, when the staff was halved, it was business as usual.Everyone greeted her as she limped past the editorial desk.Holm is on leave today, and the editorial duties are being replaced by Frederickson. "Morning, I thought you were off today," he said. "I thought so too. But I was not feeling well yesterday, and some things had to be done. Did something happen?" "No, today is calm. The latest news is that the timber industry in Dalarna has suddenly recovered. There has been a robbery in Norrköping and one person has been injured." "Okay, I'll stay in the glass cage for a while." She sat down, propped her cane against the bookshelf, and went online.Receive the letter first.There are a few letters, but none from the poisonous pen.She frowned.It has been two days since that person broke in, but he still hasn't taken advantage of this rare opportunity to take action.why?Maybe he's planning a change of strategy.Blackmail?Or maybe it's just trying to make me cranky. There is no special work to do, so I click into the strategy document I am writing for the newspaper.I stared at the screen for fifteen minutes, but couldn't read a word. She tried calling Beckman, but couldn't find anyone, and she didn't even know if his mobile phone could work abroad.Of course, she could still find his whereabouts with a little effort, but she felt extremely lazy.No, she felt helpless and powerless. She also tried calling Blomkvist to tell him Bosher's binder had been stolen, but he didn't answer. At ten o'clock, without doing anything, she decided to go home.Just as she was reaching out to turn off the computer, she suddenly saw someone knocking on her ICQ account, and couldn't help but look at the icon bar in surprise.She knew what ICQ was, but she seldom chatted, and she hadn't used the program since she joined the newspaper office. She hesitated before responding. Is it a trick?Poison pen? Erica stared at the screen with wide eyes, and it took a few seconds for her to think.Liz Salander.impossible. Erica swallowed.Only four people in this world know the origin of his scar.Salander is one of them. Salander is a computer freak.But how did she communicate with the outside world after being isolated in Sogenska Hospital since April? She didn't want the police to know she had access to the Internet.Of course not.That's why I'm now chatting with the editor-in-chief of one of Sweden's leading newspapers. Erika's heart was beating wildly. Erica couldn't believe she was asking that question.It's ridiculous.Salander was in rehab at Sogernska and couldn't handle her own problems.If Erika wanted to turn to someone, she was the most unlikely person. Erica thought for a moment before answering. Erica stared at the screen, trying to figure out what Salander meant. How am I not surprised? Erica hesitated for ten seconds.To... who?A complete lunatic, opening the door of the newspaper office?Salander might not have killed someone, but she was certainly not normal. But what has she to lose? Erica did as she was told. The process took three minutes. As the computer slowly restarted, Erica stared blankly at the screen, wondering if she was crazy.Then Salander tapped her ICQ. Figuelaura woke up at eight on Saturday morning, about two hours later than usual.She sat on the bed and looked at the man beside her, who was snoring.Well, no one is perfect. She wondered how her relationship with Blomkvist would play out.He's obviously not a faithful guy, so don't expect a long-term relationship.Most of this information can be seen from his biography.Anyway, she probably didn't want to develop a stable relationship herself-the kind with a partner, mortgage and children.Starting in her teens, after a dozen or so failed relationships, she was inclined to believe the theory that stable relationships were overrated.Her longest period was with a colleague in Uppsala, with whom she lived together for two years. But she's not one for one-night stands, although she thinks sex is an almost underrated cure-all, and having sex with Blomkvist-despite his deformed figure-was a good one, honestly. More than good.Plus, he's a good guy, and he leaves her wanting more. A summer romance?A love affair?Is she in love? She went into the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth, then put on shorts and a light coat, and went out quietly.After doing some warm-up exercises, I jogged for forty-five minutes, passed by Rowland Huff Hospital, bypassed Fried Hall, and came back via Smith's Corner.Arriving home at nine o'clock and finding Blomkvist still asleep, I leaned over and bit his ear.He opened his eyes bewilderedly. "Morning, honey. I need someone to rub my back." He looked at her and muttered something. "What did you say?" "You don't need to take a shower, you're already soaked through." "I'm going for a run, you should come with me." "If I try to keep up with you, I'm afraid I'll have a heart attack on Melastran North Road." "Nonsense. Come on, it's time to get up." He rubbed her back and soaped her.First shoulders, buttocks, then stomach, chest.After a while, she didn't want to take a bath anymore, and dragged him back to the bed directly. They went to drink coffee at a roadside café on North Melasteran Road. "You might get me into bad habits," she said. "We've only known each other for a few days." "I think you have an uncanny attraction. But you already know that." "Why do you feel that way?" "Sorry, can't answer. I never understood why I was attracted to one woman and not another." She smiled thoughtfully. "I'm off today," she said. "I didn't. I had a mountain of work before court, and I was with you the first three nights, no rush." "it's a pity." He got up and kissed her cheek.She took advantage of the situation and grabbed his sleeve. "Blomkvist, I wish I could spend more time with you." "Me too, but I'm afraid there will be some ups and downs until the story goes to press." After he finished speaking, he left along the handicraft street. Erica drank her coffee and stared at the screen.Fifty-three minutes of nothing happened, except for the occasional screensaver activation.Then her ICQ was knocked again. But Salander was offline.Erica stared at the screen in frustration, finally turned off the computer, and went out to find a coffee shop to sit down and think.