“She’s escaped from the hospital, is that what you’re trying to say?”
Fager was not to be put off: “No-one expected she would be able to leave the place.” All visitors had been searched. Or at least should have been searched. But then something happened to the hospital’s computer system. It crashed, and some of the medical equipment stopped working. The situation became serious. Doctors and nurses were running around all over the place, and just then three men in suits turned up. They told reception that they were there to visit another patient, an engineer from ABB apparently, who was on the same ward. Then things happened quickly. The men were armed with nunchakus. Fager, that idiot, started to explain that nunchakus were wooden sticks used in martial arts.
Modig waved it all away.
“What actually happened, for heaven’s sake?”
“These men overpowered the security, hustled Benito out of the hospital and disappeared in a grey van with what turned out to be fake number plates. One of the men has been identified as Esbjörn Falk, of Svavelsjö M.C., the criminal motorcycle gang.”
“I know what Svavelsjö M.C. is,” Modig said. “So what’s been done so far?”
“There’s a nationwide alert issued on Benito. We’ve told the media. Alvar Olsen’s under protection.”
“And Lisbeth Salander?”
“What about her?”
“Idiot,” she muttered, then said she had to leave right away because the situation required immediate action.
On her way out through prison security, she called Bublanski and told him about Benito and about Faria Kazi’s interview. He quoted an ancient Jewish saying back to her: “One can see into a man’s eyes, but not into his heart.”
CHAPTER 18
June 22
Dan Brody was late for work again today. He was agitated and listless, haunted by dark thoughts. But he was better dressed for the weather in a light-blue linen suit, a T-shirt and sneakers. The sun beat down as he walked along Birger Jarlsgatan thinking about Leo. All of a sudden he heard a car’s screeching halt, and he staggered, just as he had at the Fotografiska Museum.
For a moment he struggled for breath. Yet he kept walking and became reimmersed in his thoughts. Those days in December, after their first weekend together, were still the happiest of his life, in spite of moments of pain and resentment. He and Leo had talked and played music without interruption. But they never left the building together, only ever one at a time. For they had devised a plan. They were going to confront Greitz and she must not suspect anything.
DECEMBER, ONE AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER
Leo cancelled his Christmas lunch at a restaurant with Greitz and invited her over to his place at 1:00 p.m. on December 23 instead. In the meantime, the brothers enjoyed playing games with their identities. Out and about in town they were both Leo, and that amused them enormously. Dan borrowed Leo’s suits, shirts and shoes. He had his hair cut like Leo’s and practised being Leo with role-play. Leo kept saying that Dan was the more convincing of the two of them. “You’re more Leo than I am!”
Leo did only short days at the office. One evening he went out with his colleagues to Riche but even then he was back early to tell Dan that he’d come this close—he showed Dan with a thumb and forefinger—to revealing their secret to Malin.
“But you didn’t say anything?”
“Oh, no. She seems to think I’m in love.”
“Is she upset?”
“No, not really.”
Dan knew that Leo had a flirtation going with Malin Frode, who was getting divorced and would soon be leaving Alfred Ögren. But Leo always claimed it wasn’t serious. He thought she had her eye on Blomkvist, the journalist. And anyway, Leo didn’t think he loved her either. They were just fooling around, he said. Mostly.
He and Leo were always swapping ideas and memories and gossip. They made a pact which seemed unbreakable, and rehearsed in detail what they would do when Greitz arrived, how Dan would hide himself and Leo would question her, cautiously at first, and then more aggressively.
The day before the lunch, December 22, a Friday, Malin was giving a farewell party at her home on Bondegatan. Just like Dan, Leo disliked parties in small spaces. There was too much noise. He could not bring himself to go, he said. He had another idea. He would show Dan his office at Alfred Ögren. The building would probably be deserted because most of the staff would be at Malin’s, and no-one worked late on a Friday evening, especially one so close to Christmas. Dan thought it sounded like a good idea. He was curious about Leo’s work.
At around 8:00 p.m. they left the apartment ten minutes apart. Leo first with one bottle of good Burgundy and another of Champagne in his briefcase. Dan left ten minutes later, also dressed in Leo’s clothes, but in a paler suit and a darker overcoat. It was cold. It was snowing. They were going to celebrate.
They planned to go public with their story the day after their meeting with Greitz and, even though Dan was against it, Leo had promised him a substantial sum of money. There would be no more inequality between them, he said. And no more boring investment banking. He would leave his job and the gloominess at Alfred Ögren so that they could begin playing music together. The evening got off to a wonderful start. They drank and toasted each other, and the air was full of promise. “Tomorrow,” they said. “Tomorrow!”
But something went wrong. Dan thought it was because of Leo’s office. There were Renaissance angels on the ceiling, turn-of-the-century art on the walls, and gilt handles on the chests of drawers. It was so opulent and vulgar that Dan became provocative. He needled his brother:
“Looks like you have it made,” he said.
Leo agreed. “I know. I feel ashamed. I’ve never liked this room, it was my father’s.”
Dan pushed things a step further. “You were hell-bent on bringing me here though, weren’t you? You wanted to show off and ram all this down my throat.”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Leo said. “I just wanted you to see my life. I know it’s unfair.”
“Unfair?” Dan raised his voice.
The word was no longer enough. It was obscene. It was beyond belief. They argued back and forth, Dan accusing Leo, then calming down and apologizing, before going on the offensive again. And then—it was hard to know at what point—Dan had gone too far. The resentment that had been lying beneath the surface, causing tension from the beginning but kept in check by the delirious joy of their meeting, now broke out. Not only did it tear open a wound between them, it seemed to cast the whole situation in a new light.
“You’ve had all of this, yet all you do is complain. ‘Mamma doesn’t understand me, Pappa didn’t have a clue. I wasn’t allowed to play music. It was so tough, poor little rich me.’ I don’t want to hear another word. Don’t you get that? I was beaten and I went hungry. I had nothing, absolutely nothing, and you…”
Dan was shaking all over, he had no idea what had come over him. Perhaps they were both drunk. He accused Leo of being a shit and an insincere bastard, a show-off who flaunted his depressions. He was about to smash a pair of Chinese vases, but instead he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
He spent hours wandering the streets, freezing cold and crying. Eventually he ended up back at the af Chapman youth hostel at Skeppsholmen and spent the night there. But at 11:00 the next morning he went back to Leo’s apartment on Floragatan and hugged him and they both apologized. They turned their attentions to preparing themselves for the meeting with Greitz. Still, something unresolved hung in the air which would affect what was about to happen.
—
A year and a half later Dan was thinking of that time as he turned into Smålandsgatan, and his face showed it. He passed the Konstnärsbaren restaurant and emerged on Norrmalmstorg. The weather was hot for ten in the morning. He was not feeling all that well, and was certainly not looking forward to meeting Sweden’s most famous investigative journalist.
—
Rakel Greitz and Benito Andersson, who had nothing in
common save their sadism and the fact that neither was currently in good physical health, were both looking forward to meeting Lisbeth Salander. Neither knew who the other was, and if they should have happened to meet they would have regarded each other with contempt. But they were equally single-minded and equally determined to get Salander out of the picture. And they each had their networks. Benito was associated with that particular chapter of Svavelsjö M.C., which from time to time received information from Salander’s sister, Camilla, and her group of hackers. Greitz could rely on backup from her organization, which had its own technologically savvy resources as well.
Above all, Greitz had her willpower and her vigilance, despite the cancer. She had for the time being taken up residence in a hotel on Kungsholmen to keep anyone from following her home. She was well aware that things were going badly. She had foreseen it, in fact. Ever since December 23, two Christmases ago, when everything had fallen apart. At the time, she had done what she had done because she saw no choice. It had been a bold gamble on her part, and now she stood ready once more.
She would have preferred to start with Salander and von Kanterborg. But the two women were impossible to track down, so she decided to deal first with Daniel Brolin. He was the weak link. She came walking along Hamngatan, past NK department store, dressed in a thin grey coat and skirt and a black cotton turtleneck. Despite the nausea and pain, she felt strong. But the heat was getting to her. What had happened to Sweden? When she was young there had never been a summer like this one. This was tropical. It was insane. She felt hot and sticky, but she pulled herself together and drew her shoulders back. Further down the street, as she passed two men in blue overalls digging a hole at the edge of the pavement, she caught the smell of drains in the stifling, stagnant air. She thought the men looked overweight and ugly. She walked on to Norrmalmstorg and was about to reach Alfred Ögren’s building when she made a deeply troubling discovery: Mikael Blomkvist the journalist, whom she had already encountered on the stairs at Hilda’s place in Skanstull, now on his way into the firm’s offices.
Greitz took a step into the shadows and called Benjamin.
—
Dan Brody, or Leo Mannheimer, as he called himself nowadays, was sitting in his far-too-elegant office and felt his pulse pounding and the walls closing in on him. What was he to do? His “junior adviser”—as his male secretary liked to style himself—had informed him that Mikael Blomkvist was in reception. Dan had said that he would be ready for him in twenty minutes.
Even as he said it he knew it sounded impolite. But—as so often in the past—he needed time to think. Who knows, maybe Blomkvist would help him get even with Greitz. Whatever the cost might be.
DECEMBER, ONE AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER
It was snowing that day at Floragatan as they waited for Rakel Greitz. Dan apologized again and again.
“It’s OK,” Leo said. “I had a visitor at the office yesterday after you left.”
“Who was that?”
“Malin. We finished the Champagne. It wasn’t a great success. I wasn’t at my best. I was in the middle of writing something. Would you like to see?”
Dan nodded. Leo got up from the piano and left the room. He came back a minute later with a sheet of paper inside a plastic folder. He looked solemn and burdened by guilt. With a slow, deliberate gesture he handed over the document, which was sand-coloured and lightly textured with a watermark at the top.
“I think it needs to be witnessed,” he said.
The handwriting was neat and full of flourishes. The document stated that Leo was hereby giving half of all his assets to Dan.
“Jesus!” Dan said.
“I’m seeing my lawyer after Christmas,” Leo said. “Given the circumstances, it should all go smoothly. I don’t even see it as a gift. You’re getting what should have been yours a long time ago.”
Dan was silent. He knew he should be throwing his arms around his brother and saying, “It’s too much, it’s crazy, you’re being far too generous.” But what was written on the document did not make him feel any better, or the situation any clearer, and initially he could not understand why. He felt oversensitive and ungrateful. Then he decided there was something passive-aggressive about the gift. The money was being given to him from a position of overwhelming advantage, and however grand the gesture, it was also diminishing.
So he said in a resolute voice: “I can’t accept it.”
He saw despair in Leo’s eyes.
“But why not?”
“It doesn’t work like that. You can’t fix it that easily.”
“I didn’t think I needed to fix anything. I just want to do the right thing. I’m not interested in the damn money anyway.”
“Not interested?”
Dan went crazy, even though some part of him must have realized how absurd it was. He had been handed tens of millions of kronor, which would fundamentally change his life. Yet he felt offended and angry. It could have been because of their argument the day before, or because he had been drinking and had hardly slept. It could have been because of any number of things.
“You just don’t get it,” he yelled. “You can’t say that to someone who’s always lived a marginal existence. It’s too late, Leo. Too late!”
“No, it’s not! We can begin again.”
“It’s just too late.”
“Stop!” Leo shouted back. “You’re being unfair.”
“I feel like I’m being bought. Do you understand that? Bought!”
He was going too far and he knew it, and it hurt when Leo did not come back at him with the same fury. Instead Leo simply answered sadly:
“I know.”
“What do you know?”
“Those people destroyed almost everything. I hate them for it. But still, we found each other. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?”
There was such despair in his voice that Dan muttered:
“I’m grateful of course, but…”
He got no further. He regretted the “but” and was about to say something else, like “Sorry, I’m an idiot.” He remembered it so well afterwards. They were on the verge of a reconciliation, and would no doubt have found each other again, given time. Instead they heard sounds in the hallway, footsteps, and then silence. It was a minute before midday. Rakel Greitz was not due for an hour and Leo had not even set the table.
“Hide,” he whispered.
Leo put away the document, and Dan went into one of the bedrooms and closed the door.
Leo had always been a source of worry, and not only because of the business with Carl Seger. He had been unpredictable of late. She thought it might have something to do with Madeleine Bard. Losing Madeleine had made him suspicious. So Greitz wondered what was up when he cancelled their Christmas lunch and invited her instead to his apartment.
She knew everything about Leo. She knew, for example, that like many bachelors he did not like to cook or invite anyone over, especially not anyone with whom he did not feel entirely comfortable. Greitz had therefore decided to show up early, with the excuse that she wanted to help in the kitchen. But in fact what she wanted to know was whether something had happened, or if he had discovered anything about his adoption.
As she stepped out of the lift into the hallway with its painted blue ceiling, she heard agitated voices coming from inside the apartment, and they were strangely alike. Suddenly the voices stopped and she knew that whoever they belonged to was aware of her presence. Leo’s hearing was quite exceptional. She was shaken to realize that something really was amiss. She texted Benjamin:
She added:
Then she drew herself up and knocked, ready with her warmest Christmas smile. But she didn’t need it. Leo was already beaming in the doorway and, as always, he kissed her on both cheeks and helped her off with her coat, as he had been brought up to do. He was far too tactful to point out
that she was an hour early.
“You’re looking as elegant as ever, Rakel. What a Christmas this is going to be!” he said.
He’s playing his part well, she thought. She only detected traces of tension in his face after studying him very carefully. He might have been able to deceive her, had things been different. But she had keen eyes. He had been careless, which no doubt he knew himself: A moment before there had been voices, and now he was on his own. And there was a guitar lying on the sofa.
“How’s Viveka?” she said.
“I don’t think she’s got much longer.”
“Poor thing.”
“It’s just awful.”
Bullshit, she thought. I bet you’re glad the bitch is finally on her way out.
“When both parents are gone, there’s only you left,” she said, touching his arm. She wanted to reassure him, to show her sympathy, and at the same time hide her suspicion. But that was a miscalculation. Leo shuddered, evidently affected by the physical contact, and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. For a moment she felt frightened and looked again at the guitar. She decided to let things rest for a while. She wanted to give Benjamin time to pack her doctor’s bag and make his way over, so she kept the conversation going for another ten minutes, but then she could stand it no longer.
“Who’s here?”
“Who do you think?” Leo said.
She had no idea, she told him. But that was a lie. Things were beginning to fall into place, and she could see how tense Leo now was, how he was looking at her as he never had before. She realized she would have to strike hard, and mercilessly, before Daniel Brolin appeared from wherever he was hiding.
The Girl Who Takes an Eye for an Eye Page 28