Stieg Larsson - The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest

“I know that you were married, that you have two children in England who don’t want to see you, and that you’ve taken the big leap since your divorce and now have primarily homosexual relationships. You’re probably ashamed of that and avoid the gay clubs, and you avoid being seen in town with any of your male friends. You regularly cross the border into Spain to meet men.”

MacMillan was shaken to the core. And he was suddenly terrified. He had no idea how she had come by all this information, but she knew enough to destroy him.

“And I’m only going to say this one time. I don’t give a shit who you have sex with. It’s none of my business. I want to know who you are, but I will never use what I know. I won’t threaten you or blackmail you.”

MacMillan was no fool. He was perfectly aware, of course, that her knowledge of all that information about him constituted a threat. She was in control. For a moment he had considered picking her up and throwing her over the edge of the terrace, but he restrained himself. He had never in his life been so scared.

“What do you want?” he managed to say.

“I want to have a partnership with you. You will bring to a close all the other business you’re working on and will work exclusively for me. You will make more money from my company than you could ever dream of making any other way.”

She explained what she required him to do, and how she wanted the arrangements to be made.

“I want to be invisible,” she said. “And I want you to take care of my affairs. Everything has to be legitimate. Whatever money I make on my own will not have any connection to our business together.”

“I understand.”

“You have one week to phase out your other clients and put a stop to all your little schemes.”

He also realized that he had been given an offer that would never come round again. He thought about it for sixty seconds and then accepted. He had only one question.

“How do you know that I won’t swindle you?”

“Don’t even think about it. You’d regret it for the rest of your miserable life.”

He had no reason to cook the books. Salander had made him an offer that had the potential of such a silver lining that it would have been idiotic to risk it for bits of change on the side. As long as he was relatively discreet and did not get involved in any financial chicanery, his future would be assured.

Accordingly he had no thought of swindling Ms Salander.

So he went straight, or as straight as a burned-out lawyer could go who was administering an astronomical sum of stolen money.

Salander was simply not interested in the management of her finances. MacMillan’s job was to invest her money and see to it that there were funds to cover the credit cards she used. She told him how she wanted her finances to be handled. His job was to make sure it was done.

A large part of the money had been invested in gilt-edged funds that would provide her with economic independence for the rest of her life, even if she chose to live it recklessly and dissolutely. It was from these funds that her credit card bills were paid.

The rest of the money he could play with and invest as he saw fit, provided that he did not invest in anything that might cause problems with the police in any way. She forbade him to engage in stupid petty crimes and cheap con games which – if he was unlucky – might prompt investigations which in turn could put her under scrutiny.

All that remained was to agree on how much he would make on the transactions.

“I’ll pay you £500,000 as a retainer. With that you can pay off all your debts and have a good deal left over. After that you’ll earn money for yourself. You will start a company with the two of us as partners. You get 20 per cent of all the profits generated. I want you to be rich enough that you won’t be tempted to try it on, but not so rich that you won’t make an effort.”

He had started his new job on February 1 the year before. By the end of March he had paid off all his debts and stabilized his personal finances. Salander had insisted that he make cleaning up his own affairs a priority so that he would be solvent. In May he dissolved the partnership with his alcoholic colleague George Marks. He felt a twinge of conscience towards his former partner, but getting Marks mixed up in Salander’s business was out of the question.

He discussed the matter with Salander when she returned to Gibraltar on another unheralded visit in early July and discovered that MacMillan was working out of his apartment instead of from the office he had previously occupied.

“My partner’s an alcoholic and wouldn’t be able to handle this. And he would be an enormous risk factor. At the same time, fifteen years ago he saved my life when he took me into his business.”

She pondered this a while as she studied MacMillan’s face.

“I see. You’re a crook who’s loyal. That could be a commendable quality. I suggest you set up a small account that he can play around with. See to it that he makes a couple of thousand a month so he gets by.”

“Is that O.K. with you?”

She nodded and looked around his bachelor pad. He lived in a studio apartment with a kitchen nook on one of the alleys near the hospital. The only pleasant thing about the place was the view. On the other hand, it was a view that was hard to avoid in Gibraltar.

“You need an office and a nicer place to live,” she said.

“I haven’t had time,” he said.

Then she went out and found an office for him, choosing a 130-square-metre place with a little balcony facing the sea in Buchanan House on Queensway Quay, which was definitely upmarket in Gibraltar. She hired an interior decorator to renovate and furnish it.

MacMillan recalled that while he had been busy shuffling papers, Salander had personally supervised the installation of an alarm system, computer equipment, and the safe that she had already rummaged through by the time he entered the office that morning.

“Am I in trouble?” he said.

She put down the folder with the correspondence she had been perusing.

“No, Jeremy. You’re not in trouble.”

“That’s good,” he said as he poured himself some coffee. “You have a way of popping up when I least expect it.”

“I’ve been busy lately. I just wanted to get an update on what’s been happening.”

“I believe you were suspected of killing three people, you got shot in the head, and you were charged with a whole assortment of crimes. I was pretty worried for a while. I thought you were still in prison. Did you break out?”

“No. I was acquitted of all the charges and released. How much have you heard?”

He hesitated a moment. “Well, when I heard that you were in trouble, I hired a translation agency to comb the Swedish press and give me regular updates. I’m au fait with the details.”

“If you’re basing your knowledge on what you read in the papers, then you’re not au fait at all. But I dare say you discovered a number of secrets about me.”

He nodded.

“What’s going to happen now?” he said.

She gave him a surprised look. “Nothing. We keep on exactly as before. Our relationship has nothing to do with my problems in Sweden. Tell me what’s been happening since I’ve been away. Have you been doing alright?”

“I’m not drinking, if that’s what you mean.”

“No. Your private life doesn’t concern me so long as it doesn’t encroach on our business. I mean, am I richer or poorer than I was a year ago?”

He pulled out the visitor’s chair and sat down. Somehow it did not matter to him that she was sitting in his chair.

“You turned over $2.4 billion to me. We put $200 million into personal funds for you. You gave me the rest to play with.”