Stieg Larsson - The Girl who played with Fire

“In case you get any stupid ideas, if you even try to get up I’ll shoot you right in the gut.”

Salander relaxed. He might manage to get off two, maybe three shots before she could reach him, and he was probably using ammo that would make her bleed to death in a few minutes.

“You look like shit,” Zalachenko said. “Like a fucking whore. But you’ve got my eyes.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked, nodding at his prosthesis.

Zalachenko looked at her for a long time. “No. Not anymore.”

Salander stared at him.

“You’d really like to kill me, wouldn’t you?” he said.

She said nothing. He laughed.

“I’ve thought about you over the years. In fact almost every time I look in the mirror.”

“You should have left my mother alone.”

“Your mother was a whore.”

Salander’s eyes turned black as coal. “She was no whore. She worked as a cashier in a supermarket and tried to make ends meet.”

Zalachenko laughed again. “You can have whatever fantasies you want about her. But I know that she was a whore. And she made sure to get pregnant right away and then tried to get me to marry her. As if I’d marry a whore.”

Salander looked down the barrel of the gun and hoped he would relax his concentration for an instant.

“The firebomb was sneaky. I hated you for that. But in time it didn’t matter. You weren’t worth the energy. If you’d only let things be.”

“Bullshit. Bjurman asked you to fix me.”

“That was another thing entirely. He needed a film that you have, so I made a little business deal.”

“And you thought I’d give the film to you.”

“Yes, my dear daughter. I’m convinced that you would have. You have no idea how cooperative people can be when Ronald asks for something. And especially when he starts up a chain saw and saws off one of your feet. In this case it would have been appropriate compensation – a foot for a foot.”

Salander thought about Miriam at the hands of Niedermann in the warehouse. Zalachenko misinterpreted her expression.

“You don’t have to worry. We don’t intend to cut you up. But tell me: did Bjurman rape you?”

She said nothing.

“Damn, what appalling taste he must have had. I read in the paper that you’re some sort of fucking dyke. That’s no surprise. There can’t be a man who’d want you.”

Salander still said nothing.

“Maybe I should ask Niedermann to screw you. You look as if you need it.” He thought about it. “Although Ronald doesn’t have sex with girls. He’s not a fairy. He just doesn’t have sex.”

“Then maybe you should screw me,” Salander said to provoke him.

Come closer. Make a mistake.

“No, thanks all the same. That would be perverse.”

They were silent for a moment.

“What are we waiting for?” Salander asked.

“My companion is coming right back. He just had to move his car and run a little errand. Where’s your sister?”

Salander shrugged.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t know and I honestly don’t give a shit.”

He laughed again. “Sisterly love, eh? Camilla was always the one with the brains – you were just worthless filth. But I have to admit it’s quite satisfying to see you again up close.”

“Zalachenko,” she said, “you’re a tiresome fuck. Was it Niedermann who shot Bjurman?”

“Naturally. Ronald is the perfect soldier. He not only obeys orders, he also takes his own initiative when necessary.”

“Where did you dig him up?”

Zalachenko gave his daughter a peculiar look. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but decided against it. He glanced at the front door and then smiled at Salander.

“You mean you haven’t worked it out yet?” he said. “According to Bjurman you’re supposed to be a good researcher.” Then Zalachenko roared with laughter. “We used to hang out together in Spain in the early nineties when I was convalescing from your little firebomb. He was twenty-two and became my arms and legs. He isn’t an employee… it’s a partnership. We have a flourishing business.”

“Sex trafficking.”

“You could say that we’ve diversified and deal with many different goods and services. Our business model is to stay in the background and never be seen. But you must have worked out who Ronald is.”

Salander did not know what he was getting at.

“He’s your brother,” Zalachenko said.

“No,” Salander said, breathless.

Zalachenko laughed again. But the barrel of the pistol was still pointed unnervingly at her.

“Well, I should say he’s your half brother,” Zalachenko said. “The result of a brief diversion during an assignment I had in Germany in 1969.”

“You’ve turned your son into a murderer.”

“Oh no, I’ve only helped him realize his potential. He had the ability to kill long before I took over his training. And he’s going to run the family business long after I’m gone.”

“Does he know that we’re half siblings?”

“Of course. But if you think you can appeal to his brotherly love, forget it. I’m his family. You’re just a buzz on the horizon. And he isn’t your only sibling. You have at least four more brothers and three sisters in various countries. One of your other brothers is an idiot, but another actually has potential. He runs the Tallinn arm of the business. But Ronald is the only one who really lives up to the Zalachenko genes.”

“I don’t suppose my sisters will get a role in the family business.”

Zalachenko looked startled at the suggestion.

“Zalachenko… you’re just an ordinary asshole who hates women. Why did you kill Bjurman?”

“Bjurman was a moron. He couldn’t believe it when he learned you were my daughter. He was one of the few people in this country who knew about my background. I have to admit that it made me nervous when he contacted me out of the blue, but then everything turned out for the best. He died and you got the blame.”

“But why shoot him?”

“Well, it wasn’t really planned. It’s always useful to have a back door into Säpo. Even if I haven’t needed one for years. And even if he’s a moron. But that journalist in Enskede had somehow found a connection between him and me and called him just as Ronald was at his apartment. Bjurman panicked, went berserk. Ronald had to make a decision on the spot. He acted quite correctly.”

Salander’s heart sank like a stone when her father confirmed what she had already suspected. Svensson had found a connection. She had talked to Svensson and Johansson for more than an hour. She’d liked the woman immediately but was a little cooler towards the journalist. He reminded her too much of Blomkvist – an insufferable do-gooder who thought he could change everything with a book. But she had recognized his honest intentions.

It turned out that her visit had been a waste of time. They couldn’t point her to Zalachenko. Svensson had found his name and started digging, but he wasn’t able to identify him.

Instead, she had made a devastating mistake. She knew that there had to be a connection between Bjurman and Zalachenko, and she asked questions about Bjurman in an attempt to ascertain whether Svensson had come across his name. He hadn’t, but his suspicions were instantly aroused. He zeroed right in on Bjurman and plied her with questions.

She gave him very little, but he had understood that Salander was a player in the drama. He also realized that he had information she wanted. They had agreed to meet again for further discussions after Easter. Then Salander had gone home to bed. When she woke up the next morning, she was greeted by the news that two people had been murdered in an apartment in Enskede.