Stieg Larsson - The Girl who played with Fire

“That’s a little hard to believe,” Andersson said. “She looks unusual and has tattoos and shouldn’t be that hard to find.”

“The police in Uppsala went in with their weapons drawn yesterday after receiving a tip. They surrounded and scared the hell out of a fourteen-year-old boy who did look a lot like Salander. The parents were quite upset.”

“It’s a handicap that we’re searching for someone who looks like a fourteen-year-old. She could melt into any crowd of teenagers.”

“But with the attention she’s been getting in the media, someone should have seen something,” Andersson said. “They’re running her picture on Sweden’s Most Wanted this week, so maybe that will lead to something new.”

“I doubt it, considering that she’s already been on the front page of every newspaper in the country,” Faste said.

“Which suggests that maybe we should change our approach,” Bublanski said. “With accomplices, she could have slipped out of the country, but it’s more probable that she’s gone to ground.”

Bohman held up his hand. Bublanski nodded to him.

“The profile we have of her is that she’s self-destructive. On the other hand, she’s a strategist who plans all her actions carefully. She does nothing without analysing the consequences. At least that’s what Dragan Armansky thinks.”

“That was the assessment her one-time psychiatrist gave as well. But let’s hold off on the characterization for a while,” Bublanski said. “Sooner or later she’ll have to make a move. Jerker, what sort of resources does she have?”

“Now here’s something you can sink your teeth into,” Holmberg said. “She’s had a bank account for several years at Handelsbanken. That’s the income she declares. Or rather, the income that her guardian, Nils Bjurman, declared. A year ago the account held about 100,000 kronor. In the autumn of 2003 she withdrew the entire amount.”

“She needed cash in the autumn of 2003. That was when she stopped working for Milton Security,” Bohman said.

“Possibly. The account stood at zero for about two weeks. And then she put the same amount back into it.”

“She thought she needed money for something, but she didn’t spend it and put the money back?”

“Possibly. In December 2003 she used the account to pay a number of bills, including her rent for a year in advance. The account dropped to 70,000 kronor. After that the account wasn’t touched for a year, except for a deposit of around 9,000 kronor. I’ve checked – it was an inheritance from her mother. In March this year she took out this sum – the exact amount was 9,312 kronor – and that’s the only time she’s touched the account.”

“So what the hell does she live on?”

“Listen to this. In January of this year she opened a new account. This one at Svenska Enskilda Banken. She deposited two million kronor.”

“Where did the money come from?” Modig asked.

“The money was transferred to her account from a bank in the Channel Islands.”

Silence descended over the conference room.

“I don’t understand any of this,” Modig said after a moment.

“So this is money she hasn’t declared?” Bublanski asked.

“No, but technically she doesn’t have to until next year. What’s interesting is that the sum is not recorded in Bjurman’s report on her assets, and he filed a report every month.”

“So – either he didn’t know about it or else they were running a scam together. Jerker, where do we stand on forensics?”

“I had a report from the leader of the preliminary investigation yesterday evening. This is what we know. One: we can tie Salander to both crime scenes. We found her fingerprints on the murder weapon and on the shards of a broken coffee cup in Enskede. We’re waiting for results from all the DNA samples we gathered, but there’s no doubt that she was there in the apartment. Two: we have her prints on the box we found in Bjurman’s apartment, the one the gun came in. Three: we finally have a witness who can place her at the site of the murders in Enskede. The owner of a corner shop telephoned to say that Salander was definitely in his shop on the night of the murders. She bought a pack of Marlboro Lights.”

“And he comes out with this days after we asked the public for information?”

“He was away over the holidays, like everybody else. In any case” – Holmberg pointed at a map – “the corner shop is here, about two hundred yards from the crime scene. She came in just as he was closing at 10:00 p.m. He gave a perfect description of her.”

“Tattoo on her neck?” Andersson said.

“He was a bit vague about that. He thought he saw a tattoo. But he definitely saw that she had a pierced eyebrow.”

“What else?”

“Not that much in the way of technical evidence. But it should hold up.”

“Faste – the apartment on Lundagatan?”

“We’ve got her prints, but we don’t think she lives there. We’ve turned the place upside down, and it seems that a Miriam Wu is living there. Her name was added to the contract as recently as February this year.”

“What do we know about Wu?”

“No police record. Known lesbian. She appears in shows at the Gay Pride Festival. Seems to be studying sociology and is part owner of Domino Fashion, a sex shop on Tegnérgatan.”

“Sex shop?” Modig said with raised eyebrows.

On one occasion she had bought, to her husband’s delight, some sexy lingerie at Domino Fashion. And she had absolutely no intention of revealing that to the men in the room.

“Yeah, they sell handcuffs and whore outfits and stuff like that. Need a whip?”

“It’s not a sex shop. It’s a fashion boutique for people who like sexy underwear.”

“Same shit.”

“Go on,” Bublanski said angrily. “Is there any sign of Fröken Wu?”

“Not a trace.”

“She could have gone away for Easter,” Modig said.

“Or else Salander whacked her too,” Faste said. “Maybe she wants to make a clean sweep of all her acquaintances.”

“Wu is a lesbian. Should we conclude that she and Salander are a couple?”

“I think we can draw the conclusion that there’s a sexual relationship,” Andersson said. “First, we found Salander’s prints on and around the bed in the apartment. We also found her prints on a pair of handcuffs.”

“Then she’ll appreciate the cuffs I’ve got ready for her,” Faste said.

Modig groaned.

“Go on,” Bublanski said to Andersson.

“We got a tip that Miriam Wu was seen at Kvarnen kissing a girl who matched Salander’s description. That was about two weeks ago. The informant claimed that he knows who Salander is and has run into her there before, although he hadn’t seen her in the past year. I haven’t had time to double-check with the staff, but I’ll do it this afternoon.”

“In her casebook at social welfare it doesn’t mention a thing about her being a lesbian. A number of times in her teens she ran away from her foster families and picked up men in bars. She was noticed by the police several times in the company of older men.”

“Which doesn’t mean shit if she was a whore,” Faste said.

“What do we know about people she knows? Curt?”

“Hardly anything. She hasn’t had a run-in with the police since she was eighteen. She knows Dragan Armansky and Mikael Blomkvist, we know that much. And she knows Miriam Wu, of course. The same source that tipped us off about her and Wu at Kvarnen says that she used to hang out with a bunch of girls there a while back. Some kind of girl band called Evil Fingers.”

“Evil Fingers?” Bublanski repeated.

“Seems to be something occult.”

“Don’t tell me Salander is some damned Satanist too,” Bublanski said. “The media are going to go nuts.”