The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo Trilogy Bundle (200 page)

Only three weeks had passed since she had been summoned to the NPO to meet Superintendent Edklinth, director of Constitutional Protection. That day she had been busily finishing up one or two routine matters so she could begin her six-week leave at her cabin on the island of Husarö with a clear conscience. Instead she had been assigned to lead the investigation of a group of civil servants who went by the name of “the Section.” Her vacation plans had to be shelved. She had been advised that this would be her priority for the foreseeable future, and she had been given more or less free rein to shape her operational team and make the necessary decisions.

“This may prove to be one of the most sensational criminal investigations this country has witnessed,” the prosecutor general had told her.

She was beginning to think he was right.

She had listened with increasing amazement to Edklinth's summary of the situation and the investigation he had undertaken at the instruction of the prime minister. The investigation was not yet complete, but he believed that his team had come far enough to be able to present the case to a prosecutor.

First Gustavsson had reviewed all the material that Edklinth had delivered. When the sheer scope of the criminal activity began to emerge, she realized that every decision she made would someday be pored over by historians and their readers. Since then she had spent every waking minute trying to come to grips with the numerous crimes. The case was unique in Swedish law, and since it involved charting criminal activity that had gone on for at least thirty years, she recognized the need for a very particular kind of operational team. She was reminded of the Italian government's anti-Mafia investigators who had been forced in the seventies and eighties to work almost underground in order to survive. She knew why Edklinth himself had been bound to work in secret. He did not know whom he could trust.

Her first action was to call in three colleagues from the NPO. She selected people she had known for many years. Then she hired a renowned historian who had worked on the Crime Prevention Council to help with an analysis of the growth of Security Police responsibilities and powers over the decades. She formally appointed Inspector Figuerola head of the investigation.

At this point the investigation of the Section had taken on a constitutionally valid form. It could now be viewed like any other police investigation, even though its operation would be conducted in absolute secrecy.

Over the past two weeks Prosecutor Gustavsson had summoned a large number of individuals to official but extremely discreet interviews. As well as with Edklinth and Figuerola, interviews had been conducted with Criminal Inspectors Bublanski, Modig, Andersson, and Holmberg. She had called in Mikael Blomkvist, Malin Eriksson, Henry Cortez, Christer Malm, Advokat Giannini, Dragan Armansky, and Susanne Linder, and she had herself gone to visit Lisbeth Salander's former guardian Holger Palmgren. Apart from the members of
Millennium
's staff who on principle did not answer questions that might reveal the identity of their sources, all had
readily provided detailed answers, and in some cases supporting documentation as well.

Prosecutor Gustavsson had not been at all pleased to have been presented with a timetable that had been determined by
Millennium
. It meant that she would have to order the arrest of a number of individuals on a specific date. She knew that ideally she would have had several months of preparation before the investigation reached its present stage, but she had no choice. Blomkvist had been adamant.
Millennium
was not subject to any governmental ordinances or regulations, and he intended to publish the story on day three of Salander's trial. Gustavsson was thus compelled to adjust her own schedule to strike at the same time, so that those individuals who were under suspicion would not be given a chance to disappear along with the evidence. Blomkvist received a surprising degree of support from Edklinth and Figuerola, and the prosecutor came to see that Blomkvist's plan had certain clear advantages. As prosecutor she would get just the kind of fully focused media backup she needed to push forward the prosecution. In addition, the whole process would move ahead so quickly that this complex investigation would not have time to leak into the halls of the bureaucracy and thus risk being unearthed by the Section.

“Blomkvist's first priority is to achieve justice for Salander. Nailing the Section is merely a by-product,” Figuerola said.

The trial of Lisbeth Salander was to commence on Wednesday, in two days' time. The meeting on Monday involved doing a review of the latest material available to them and dividing up the work assignments.

Thirteen people participated in the meeting. From NPO, Ragnhild Gustavsson had brought her two closest colleagues. From Constitutional Protection, Inspector Monica Figuerola had come with Bladh and Berglund. Edklinth, as director of Constitutional Protection, was sitting in as an observer.

But Gustavsson had decided that a matter of this importance could not credibly be restricted to SIS. She had therefore called in Inspector Bublanski and his team, consisting of Modig, Holmberg, and Andersson from the regular police force. They had, after all, been working on the Salander case since Easter and were familiar with all the details. Gustavsson had also called in Prosecutor Jervas and Inspector Erlander from the Göteborg police. The investigation of the Section had a direct connection to the investigation of the murder of Alexander Zalachenko.

When Figuerola mentioned that former prime minister Thorbjörn Fälldin might have to take the stand as a witness, Holmberg and Modig were scarcely able to conceal their discomfort.

For five hours they examined one individual after another who had been identified as an activist in the Section. After that they established the various crimes that could be linked to the apartment on Artillerigatan. A further nine people had been identified as being connected to the Section, although they never visited Artillerigatan. They worked primarily at SIS on Kungsholmen, but had met with some of the Section's activists.

“It is still impossible to say how widespread the conspiracy is. We do not know under what circumstances these people meet with Wadensjöö or with anyone else. They could be informers, or they may have been given the impression that they're working for internal affairs or something similar. So there is some uncertainty about the degree of their involvement, and that can be resolved only after we've had a chance to interview them. Furthermore, these are merely those individuals we have observed during the weeks the surveillance has been in effect; there could be more that we do not yet know about.”

“But the chief of Secretariat and the chief of Budget—”

“We have to assume that they're working for the Section.”

It was 6:00 on Monday when Gustavsson gave everyone an hour's break for dinner, after which they would reconvene.

It was just as everyone had stood up and begun to move about that Jesper Thoms, Figuerola's colleague from CP's operations unit, drew her aside to report on what had developed during the last few hours of surveillance.

“Clinton has been in dialysis for most of the day and got back to Artillerigatan at 3:00. The only one who did anything of interest was Nyström, although we aren't quite sure what it was he did.”

“Tell me,” said Figuerola.

“At 1:30 he drove to Central Station and met up with two men. They walked across to the Sheraton and had coffee in the bar. The meeting lasted for about twenty minutes, after which Nyström returned to Artillerigatan.”

“So who were they?”

“They're new faces. Two men in their mid-thirties who seem to be of eastern European origin. Unfortunately, our observer lost them when they went into the tunnelbana.”

“I see,” Figuerola said wearily.

“Here are the pictures,” Thoms said. He handed her a series of surveillance photographs.

She glanced at the enlargements of two faces she had never set eyes on before.

“Thanks,” she said, laying out the photographs on the conference table. She picked up her handbag to go and find something to eat.

Andersson, who was standing nearby, bent to look more closely at the pictures.

“Oh, shit,” he said. “Are the Nikolich brothers involved in this?”

Figuerola stopped in her tracks. “Who did you say?”

“These two are seriously rotten apples,” Andersson said. “Tomi and Miro Nikolich.”

“Have you had dealings with them?”

“Sure. Two brothers from Huddinge. Serbs. We had them under observation several times when they were in their twenties and I was in the gangs unit. Miro is the dangerous one. He's been wanted for about a year for aggravated assault. I thought they'd both gone back to Serbia to become politicians or something.”

“Politicians?”

“Right. They went to Yugoslavia in the early nineties and helped carry out ethnic cleansing. They worked for a Mafia leader, Arkan, who was running some sort of private fascist militia. They got a reputation for being shooters.”

“Shooters?”

“Hit men. They've been flitting back and forth between Belgrade and Stockholm. Their uncle has a restaurant in Norrmalm, and they've apparently worked there once in a while. We've had reports that they were mixed up in at least two of the killings in what was known as the ‘cigarette war,' but we never got close to charging them with anything.”

Figuerola gazed mutely at the photographs. Then suddenly she turned pale as a ghost. She stared at Edklinth.

“Blomkvist,” she cried with panic in her voice. “They're not just planning to involve him in a scandal, they're planning to murder him. Then the police will find the cocaine during the investigation and draw their own conclusions.”

Edklinth stared back at her.

“He's supposed to be meeting Erika Berger at Samir's Cauldron,” Figuerola said. She grabbed Andersson by the shoulder. “Are you armed?”

“Yes.”

“Come with me.”

Figuerola rushed out of the conference room. Her office was three doors down. She ran in and took her service weapon from the desk drawer. Against all regulations she left the door to her office unlocked and wide open as she raced off towards the elevators. Andersson hesitated for a second.

“Go,” Bublanski told him. “Sonja, you go with them too.”

•    •    •

Blomkvist got to Samir's Cauldron at 6:20. Berger had just arrived and found a table near the bar, not far from the entrance. He kissed her on the cheek. They both ordered lamb stew and strong beers from the waiter.

“How was the
She
woman?” Berger said.

“Cool, as usual.”

Berger laughed. “If you don't watch out you're going to become obsessed by her. Imagine, a woman who can resist the famous Blomkvist charm.”

“There are in fact several women who haven't fallen for me over the years,” Blomkvist said. “How has your day been?”

“Wasted. But I accepted an invitation to be on a panel to debate the whole
SMP
business at the Publicists' Club. That will be my final contribution.”

“Great.”

“It's just such a relief to be back at
Millennium.
”

“You have no idea how good it is that you're back. I'm still elated.”

“It's fun to be at work again.”

“Mmm.”

“I'm happy.”

“And I have to go to the gents',” Blomkvist said, getting up.

He almost collided with a man who had just walked in. Blomkvist noticed that he looked vaguely eastern European and was staring at him. Then he saw the sub-machine gun.

As they passed Riddarholmen, Edklinth called to tell them that neither Blomkvist nor Berger was answering their mobiles. They had presumably turned them off for dinner.

Figuerola swore and passed Södermalmstorg at a speed of close to fifty miles an hour. She kept her horn pressed down and made a sharp turn onto Hornsgatan. Andersson had to brace himself against the door. He had taken out his gun and checked the magazine. Modig did the same in the back seat.

“We have to call for backup,” Andersson said. “You don't play games with the Nikolich boys.”

Figuerola ground her teeth.

“This is what we'll do,” she said. “Sonja and I will go straight into the restaurant and hope they're sitting inside. Curt, you know what these guys look like, so you stay outside and keep watch.”

“Right.”

“If all goes well, we'll take Blomkvist and Berger straight out to the car and drive them down to Kungsholmen. If we suspect anything's wrong, we'll stay inside the restaurant and call for backup.”

“OK,” Modig said.

Figuerola was nearly at the restaurant when the police radio crackled beneath the dashboard.

All units. Shots fired on Tavastgatan on Södermalm. Samir's Cauldron restaurant
.

Figuerola felt a sudden lurch in her chest.

Berger saw Blomkvist bump into a man as he was heading past the entrance towards the gents'. She frowned without really knowing why. She saw the other man stare at Blomkvist with a surprised expression. She wondered if it was somebody he knew.

Then she saw the man take a step back and drop a bag to the floor. At first she did not know what she was seeing. She sat paralysed as he raised some kind of gun and aimed it at Blomkvist.

Blomkvist reacted without stopping to think. He flung out his left hand, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and twisted it up towards the ceiling. For a microsecond the muzzle passed in front of his face.

The burst of fire from the sub-machine gun was deafening in the small room. Mortar and glass from the overhead lights rained down on Blomkvist as Miro Nikolich squeezed off eleven shots. For a moment Blomkvist looked directly into the eyes of his attacker.

Then Nikolich took a step back and yanked the gun towards him. Blomkvist was unprepared and lost his grip on the barrel. He knew at once that he was in mortal danger. Instinctively he threw himself at the attacker instead of crouching down or trying to take cover. Later he realized that if he had ducked or backed away, he would have been shot on the spot. He got a new grip on the barrel of the sub-machine gun and used his entire weight to drive the man against the wall. He heard another six or seven shots go off and tore desperately at the gun to direct the muzzle at the floor.