David Lagercrantz - The Girl in the Spider's Web

“All three prisoners are having surgery,” she said. “It’ll be a while before we can question them again.”

“Try to question them, you mean.”

“I did manage to have a brief word with Latvinov. He was conscious for a while before his operation.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Just that he wanted to talk to a priest.”

“How come all lunatics and murderers are religious these days?”

“While all sensible old chief inspectors doubt the existence of their God, you mean?”

“Now, now.”

“Latvinov also seemed dejected, and that’s a good sign, I think,” Modig said. “When I showed him the drawing he just waved it away with a resigned expression.”

“So he didn’t try to claim it was a fabrication?”

“He just closed his eyes and started to talk about his priest.”

“Have you discovered what this American professor wants, the one who keeps calling?”

“What...? No... he’ll talk only to you. I think it’s about Balder’s research.”

“And Zander, the young journalist?”

“That’s what I came to talk about. It doesn’t look good.”

“What do we know?”

“That he worked late and was spotted disappearing down past Katarinahissen accompanied by a beautiful woman with strawberry- or dark-blonde hair and expensive clothes.”

“I’d not heard that.”

“They were seen by a man called Ken Eklund, a baker at Skansen. He lives in the Millennium building. He said they looked as if they were in love, or at least Zander did.”

“You think it could have been some sort of honeytrap?”

“It’s possible.”

“And this woman, might she be the same one who was seen at Ingarö?”

“We’re looking into that. But I don’t like the idea that they seemed to be heading towards Gamla Stan. Not only because we picked up Zander’s mobile phone signals there. That revolting specimen Orlov, who just spits at me whenever I try to question him, has an apartment on Mårten Trotzigs gränd.”

“Have we been there?”

“Not yet. We’ve only just discovered the address. The apartment was registered in the name of one of his companies.”

“Let’s hope there’s nothing unpleasant waiting for us there.”

Westman was lying on the floor in the entrance hall on Torsgatan, wondering how he could be so terrified. She was just a chick, a pierced punk chick who hardly came up to his chest. He should be able to throw her out like some little rat. Yet he was as if paralysed and it had nothing to do with the way the girl fought, he thought, still less with the fact that her foot was planted on his stomach. It was something about her look or her whole being that he could not put his finger on. For a few minutes he lay there like an idiot and listened.

“I’m just reminded,” she said, “that there’s something really wrong in my family. We seem to be capable of pretty much anything. Of the most unimaginable cruelties. It may be a genetic defect. Personally I’ve got this thing against men who harm children and women, and that makes me dangerous. When I saw August’s drawings of you and your friend Roger, I wanted to hurt you, badly. But I think August has been through enough, so there’s a slight chance that you and your friend might get off more lightly.”

“I’m—” Westman began.

“Quiet,” she said. “This isn’t a negotiation; it’s not even a conversation. I’m just setting out the terms, that’s all. Legally there are no problems. Frans was wise enough to register the apartment in August’s name. But for the rest, this is how it’s going to be: you have precisely four minutes to pack your things and get out. If you or Roger ever come back here or contact August in any way, I’ll make you suffer so much that you’ll be incapable of doing anything nice again, for the rest of your lives. In the meantime, I’ll be preparing to report you to the police with full details of the abuse you’ve subjected August to. As you know, we have more than the drawings to go on. We have testimonies from psychologists and experts. I’ll also be contacting the evening papers to tell them that I have material which substantiates the image of you that emerged in connection with your assault on Renata Kapusinski. Remind me, Lasse, what was it that you did? Bite her cheek through and kick her in the head?”

“So you’re going to go to the press.”

“I’m going to go to the press. I’m going to cause you and your friend every conceivable disgrace. But maybe — I’m saying maybe — you can hope to escape the worst of the humiliation so long as you’re never again seen near Hanna and August, and if you never again harm a woman. As a matter of fact I couldn’t give a shit about you. Once you leave, and if you live like a shy and timid little monk, you may be alright. I have my doubts — as we all know, the rate of re-offending for violence against women is high, and basically you’re a bastard, but with a bit of luck, who knows...? Have you got it?”

“I’ve got it,” he said, hating himself for saying so.

He saw no way out, he could only agree and do as he was told, and so he got up and went into the bedroom and swiftly packed some clothes. Then he took his coat and his mobile and left. He had nowhere to go.

He had never felt more pathetic in his life. Outside an unpleasant sleety rain lashed into him.

Salander heard the front door slam and footsteps receding down the stone stairs. She looked at August. He was standing still with his arms straight down by his sides, staring at her intently. That troubled her. A moment ago she had been in control of things, but now she was uncertain, and what on earth was the matter with Hanna Balder?

Hanna seemed about to burst into tears, and August... on top of everything else he started shaking his head and muttering. Salander just wanted to get out of there, but she stayed. Her work was not yet complete. Out of her pocket she took two plane tickets, a hotel voucher and a thick bundle of notes, both kronor and euros.

“I’d just like, from the bottom of my heart—” Hanna began.

“Quiet,” Salander cut in. “Here are some plane tickets to Munich. Departure is at 7.15 this evening so you’ve got to hurry. I’ve organized transport to take you directly to Schloss Elmau. It’s a nice hotel not far from Garmisch-Partenkirchen. You’ll be staying in a large room on the top floor, in the name of Müller, and you’ll be there for three months to start with. I’ve been in touch with Professor Edelman and explained to him the importance of absolute confidentiality. He’ll be making regular visits and seeing to it that August gets good care. Edelman will also arrange for suitable schooling.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m deadly serious. The police now have August’s drawing and the murderer has been arrested. But the people behind all this are still at large, and it’s impossible to know what they might be planning. You have to leave this apartment at once. I’m busy with a few other things, but I’ve arranged for a driver to take you to Arlanda. He’s a bit weird-looking, maybe, but he’s O.K. You can call him Plague. Have you got all that?”

“Yes, but—”

“Forget the buts. Just listen: you mustn’t use your credit card or your own mobile during the whole of your time away, Hanna. I’ve fixed an encrypted mobile for you, a Blackphone, in case there’s an emergency. My number is already programmed in. I’ll pick up all the costs of the hotel. You’ll get a hundred thousand kronor in cash, for unforeseen expenses. Any questions?”