Stieg Larsson: The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest

“In what way bizarre?”

Erlander glanced at Modig and Holmberg. He was embarrassed to be discussing flaws in their organization in front of the visitors from Stockholm.

“As far as I’m concerned, the strangest thing was that he detailed one of the techs to make an inventory of everything in the woodshed – where we found the Zalachenko guy?”

“An inventory of what in the woodshed?” Spångberg wanted to know.

“Yes… well… he said he needed to know exactly how many pieces of wood were in there. So that the report would be accurate.”

There was a charged silence around the conference table before Erlander went on.

“And this morning it came out that Paulsson has been taking at least two different antidepressants. He should have been on sick leave, but no-one knew about his condition.”

“What condition?” Spångberg said sharply.

“Well, obviously I don’t know what’s wrong with him – patient’s confidentiality and all that – but the drugs he’s taking are strong ataractics on the one hand, and stimulants. He was high as a kite all night.”

“Good God,” said Spångberg emphatically. She looked like the thundercloud that had swept over Göteborg that morning. “I want Paulsson in here for a chat. Right now.”

“He collapsed this morning and was admitted to the hospital suffering from exhaustion. It was just our bad luck that he happened to be on rotation.”

“May I ask… Paulsson, did he arrest Mikael Blomkvist last night?”

“He wrote a report citing offensive behaviour, aggressive resistance to police officers, and illegal possession of a weapon. That’s what he put in the report.”

“What does Blomkvist say?”

“He concedes that he was insulting, but he claims it was in self-defence. He says that the resistance consisted of a forceful verbal attempt to prevent Torstensson and Ingemarsson from going to pick up Niedermann alone, without back-up.”

“Witnesses?”

“Well, there is Torstensson. I don’t believe Paulsson’s claim of aggressive resistance for a minute. It’s a typical pre-emptive retaliation to undermine potential complaints from Blomkvist.”

“But Blomkvist managed to overpower Niedermann all by himself, did he not?” Prosecutor Jervas said.

“By holding a gun to him.”

“So Blomkvist had a gun. Then there was some basis for his arrest after all. Where did he get the weapon?”

“Blomkvist won’t discuss it without his lawyer being there. And Paulsson arrested Blomkvist when he was trying to hand in the weapon to the police.”

“Could I make a small, informal suggestion?” Modig said cautiously.

Everyone turned to her.

“I have met Mikael Blomkvist on several occasions in the course of this investigation. I have found him quite likeable, even though he is a journalist. I suppose you’re the one who has to make the decision about charging him…” She looked at Jervas, who nodded. “All this stuff about insults and aggressive resistance is just nonsense. I assume you will ignore it.”

“Probably. Illegal weapons are more serious.”

“I would urge you to wait and see. Blomkvist has put the pieces of this puzzle together all by himself; he’s way ahead of us on the police force. It will be to our advantage to stay on good terms with him and ensure his co-operation, rather than unleash him to condemn the entire police force in his magazine and elsewhere in the media.”

After a few seconds, Erlander cleared his throat. If Modig dared to stick her neck out, he could do the same.

“I agree with Sonja. I too think Blomkvist is a man we could work with. I’ve apologized to him for the way he was treated last night. He seems ready to let bygones be bygones. Besides, he has integrity. He somehow tracked down where Salander was living but he won’t give us the address. He’s not afraid to get into a public scrap with the police… and he’s most certainly in a position where his voice will carry just as much weight in the media as any report from Paulsson.”

“But he refuses to give the police any information about Salander.”

“He says that we’ll have to ask her ourselves, if that time ever comes. He says he absolutely won’t discuss a person who is not only innocent but who also has had her rights so severely violated.”

“What kind of weapon is it?” Jervas said.

“It’s a Colt 1911 Government. Serial number unknown. Forensics have it, and we don’t know yet whether it is connected to any known crime in Sweden. If it is, that will put the matter in a rather different light.”

Spångberg raised her pen.

“Agneta… it’s up to you to decide whether you want to initiate a preliminary investigation against Blomkvist. But I advise that you wait for the report from forensics. So let’s move on. This character Zalachenko… what can our colleagues from Stockholm tell us about him?”

“The truth is,” Modig said, “that until yesterday afternoon we had never heard of either Zalachenko or Niedermann.”

“I thought you were busy looking for a lesbian Satanist gang in Stockholm. Was I wrong?” one of the Göteborg policemen said. His colleagues all frowned. Holmberg was studying his fingernails. Modig had to take the question.

“Within these four walls, I can tell you that we have our equivalent of Inspector Paulsson, and all that stuff about a lesbian Satanist gang is probably a smokescreen originating mainly from him.”

Modig and Holmberg then described in detail the investigation as it had developed. When they had finished there was a long silence around the table.

“If all this about Gunnar Björck is true and it comes out, Säpo’s ears are going to be burning,” the assistant chief of the Violent Crimes Division concluded.

Jervas raised her hand. “It sounds to me as though your suspicions are for the most part based on assumptions and circumstantial evidence. As a prosecutor I would be uneasy about the lack of unassailable evidence.”

“We’re aware of that,” Holmberg said. “We think we know what happened in broad outline, but there are questions that still have to be answered.”

“I gather you’re still busy with excavations in Nykvarn,” Spångberg said. “How many killings do you reckon this case involves?”

Holmberg rubbed his eyes wearily. “We started with two, then three murders in Stockholm. Those are the ones that prompted the hunt for Salander: the deaths of Advokat Bjurman, the journalist Dag Svensson, and Mia Johansson, an academic. In the area around the warehouse in Nykvarn we have so far found three graves, well, three bodies. We’ve identified a known dealer and petty thief who was found dismembered in one trench. We found a woman’s body in a second trench – she’s still unidentified. And we haven’t dug up the third yet. It appears to be older than the others. Furthermore, Blomkvist has made a connection to the murder several months ago of a prostitute in Södertälje.”

“So, with Gunnar Ingemarsson dead in Gosseberga, we’re talking about at least eight murders. That’s a horrendous statistic. Do we suspect this Niedermann of all of them? If so, he has to be treated as a madman, a mass murderer.”

Modig and Holmberg exchanged glances. It was now a matter of how far they wanted to align themselves with such assertions. Finally Modig spoke up.

“Even though crucial evidence is lacking, my superior, Inspector Bublanski, and I are tending towards the belief that Blomkvist is correct in claiming that the first three murders were committed by Niedermann. That would require us to believe that Salander is innocent. With respect to the graves in Nykvarn, Niedermann is linked to the site through the kidnapping of Salander’s friend Miriam Wu. There is a strong likelihood that she too would have been his victim. But the warehouse is owned by a relative of the president of Svavelsjö Motorcycle Club, and until we’re able to identify the remains, we won’t be able to draw any conclusions.”