Stieg Larsson - The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest

“And?”

“Your personal funds haven’t grown by much more than the amount of interest. I could increase the profit if –”

“I’m not interested in increasing the profit.”

“O.K. You’ve spent a negligible amount. The principal expenses have been the apartment I bought for you and the fund you started for that lawyer Palmgren. Otherwise you’ve just had normal expenses. The interest rate has been favourable. You’re running about even.”

“Good.”

“The rest I invested. Last year we didn’t make very much. I was a little rusty and spent the time learning the market again. We’ve had expenses. We didn’t really start generating income until this year. Since the start of the year we’ve taken about 7 million. Dollars, that is.”

“Of which 20 per cent goes to you.”

“Of which 20 per cent goes to me.”

“Are you satisfied with that?”

“I’ve made more than a million dollars in six months. Yes, I’m satisfied.”

“You know… you shouldn’t get too greedy. You can cut back on your hours when you’re satisfied. Just make sure you spend a few hours on my affairs every so often.”

“Ten million dollars,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“When I get ten million together I’ll pack it in. It was good that you turned up in my life. We have a lot to discuss.”

“Fire away.”

He threw up his hands.

“This is so much money that it scares the shit out of me. I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know the purpose of the company besides making more money. What’s all the money going to be used for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me neither. But money can become an end in itself. It’s crazy. That’s why I’ve decided to call it quits when I’ve earned ten million for myself. I don’t want the responsibility any longer.”

“Fair enough.”

“But before I call it a day I want you to decide how this fortune is to be administered in the future. There has to be a purpose and guidelines and some kind of organization that can take over.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s impossible to conduct business this way. I’ve divided up the sum into long-term fixed investments – real estate, securities and so forth. There’s a complete list on the computer.”

“I’ve read it.”

“The other half I’ve put into speculation, but it’s so much money to keep track of that I can’t keep up. So I set up an investment company on Jersey. At present you have six employees in London. Two talented young brokers and some clerical staff.”

“Yellow Ballroom Ltd? I was wondering what that could be.”

“Our company. Here in Gibraltar I’ve hired a secretary and a promising young lawyer. They’ll be here in half an hour, by the way.”

“I know. Molly Flint, forty-one, and Brian Delaney, twenty-six.”

“Do you want to meet them?”

“No. Is Brian your lover?”

“What? No.” He looked shocked. “I don’t mix –”

“Good.”

“By the way, I’m not interested in young guys… inexperienced ones, I mean.”

“No… you’re more attracted to men with a tough attitude than to some snot-nosed kid. But it’s still none of my business. But Jeremy…”

“Yes?”

“Be careful.”

Salander had not planned to stay in Gibraltar for more than two weeks, just long enough, she thought, to get her bearings. But she suddenly discovered that she had no idea what she was going to do or where she should go. She stayed for three months. She checked her email once a day and replied promptly to messages from Giannini on the few occasions her lawyer got in touch. She did not tell her where she was. She did not answer any other email.

She still went to Harry’s Bar, but now she came in only for a beer or two in the evenings. She spent large parts of her days at the Rock Hotel, either on her balcony or in bed. She got together with a thirty-year-old Royal Navy officer, but it was a one-night stand and all in all an uninteresting experience.

She was bored.

Early in October she had dinner with MacMillan. They had met up only a few times during her stay. It was dark and they drank a fruity white wine and discussed what they should use her billions for. And then he surprised her by asking what was upsetting her.

She studied his face for a long time and pondered the matter. Then she had, just as surprisingly, told him about her relationship with Miriam Wu, and how Mimmi had been beaten and almost killed. And she, Lisbeth, was to blame. Apart from one greeting sent by way of Giannini, Salander had not heard a word from Mimmi. And now she was in France.

MacMillan listened in silence.

“Are you in love with her?” he said at last.

Salander shook her head.

“No. I don’t think I’m the type who falls in love. She was a friend. And we had good sex.”

“Nobody can avoid falling in love,” he said. “They might want to deny it, but friendship is probably the most common form of love.”

She looked at him in astonishment.

“Will you get cross if I say something personal?”

“No.”

“Go to Paris, for God’s sake,” he said.

She landed at Charles de Gaulle airport at 2.30 in the afternoon, took the airport bus to the Arc de Triomphe and spent two hours wandering around the nearby neighbourhoods trying to find a hotel room. She walked south towards the Seine and finally found a room at a small hotel, the Victor Hugo on rue Copernic.

She took a shower and called Miriam Wu. They met that evening at a bar near Notre Dame. Mimmi was dressed in a white shirt and jacket. She looked fabulous. Salander instantly felt shy. They kissed each other on the cheek.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called, and that I didn’t come to the trial,” Mimmi said.

“That’s O.K. The trial was behind closed doors anyway.”

“I was in hospital for three weeks, and then it was chaos when I got home to Lundagatan. I couldn’t sleep. I had nightmares about that bastard Niedermann. I called my mother and told her I wanted to come here, to Paris.”

Salander said she understood.

“Forgive me,” Mimmi said.

“Don’t be such an idiot. I’m the one who’s come here to ask you to forgive me .”

“For what?”

“I wasn’t thinking. It never occurred to me that I was putting you in such danger by turning over my old apartment to you. It was my fault that you were almost murdered. You’d have every right to hate me.”

Mimmi looked shocked. “Lisbeth, I never even gave it a thought. It was Ronald Niedermann who tried to murder me, not you.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“Alright,” Salander said finally.

“Right,” Mimmi said.

“I didn’t follow you here because I’m in love with you,” Salander said.

Mimmi nodded.

“We had great sex, but I’m not in love with you.”

“Lisbeth, I think…”

“What I wanted to say was that I hope you… damn .”

“What?”

“I don’t have many friends…”

Mimmi nodded. “I’m going to be in Paris for a while. My studies at home were a mess so I signed up at the university here instead. I’ll probably stay at least one academic year. After that I don’t know. But I’m going to come back to Stockholm. I’m still paying the service charges on Lundagatan and I mean to keep the apartment. If that’s O.K. with you.”

“It’s your apartment. Do what you want with it.”

“Lisbeth, you’re a very special person,” Mimmi said. “I’d still like to be your friend.”

They talked for two hours. Salander did not have any reason to hide her past from Miriam Wu. The Zalachenko business was familiar to everyone who had access to a Swedish newspaper, and Mimmi had followed the story with great interest. She gave Salander a detailed account of what had happened in Nykvarn the night Paolo Roberto saved her life.