We are then given one of the extensive Larsson character fill-ins that either help illuminate (if you are a sympathetic reader) or infuriate (if you are not), but which undoubtedly have the effect of bringing to life characters who become involved in the narrative. Gullberg had been involved in the Wennerström debacle, which caused major problems in the Security Police. Gullberg and his colleagues were financed through a special fund, but outwardly did not appear to exist within the structure of the security policy. Gullberg is at this point unaccountable to anyone. It is here that the author once again brings in real events by having Gullberg remember Election Day, 1976, and his own thoughts on the suitability as prime minister of real-life politician Olof Palme (who was, of course, assassinated). But in connection with Zala’s defection, Gullberg remembers a young man who would be prepared to bend the rules in the service of his boss: Gunnar Björck, who has, of course, figured throughout the narrative. Björck had dealt with Zalachenko when the latter requested asylum, and the two men were involved when a massive structure of secrecy was built around the prize defector.
Also involved in the reception for Zalachenko was the lawyer Nils Erik Bjurman who, of course, was one of the many sexual abusers of Salander and the man who has had particular cause to regret what he had done to her. Larsson has now provided us with another spectacularly nasty set of individuals, with Lisbeth’s murderous father at the centre. Gullberg makes it clear that even the very name ‘Lisbeth Salander’ instilled in him a deep displeasure, but he has also grown to loathe his charge Zalachenko. He is well aware that the latter is a ‘sick bastard’, but considers that making moral judgements is not his particular problem. In another lengthy exposition, Larsson tells us that Björck came up with a solution to the Zalachenko problem – after the latter’s attack, everyone involved in the case was to be quietly filed away with Salander committed to an institution for the insane. Björck’s boss Gullberg thoroughly approved the operation. After this filling in of the back story – actually fascinatingly handled (though there is no doubt that Larsson could occasionally be pedestrian in this kind of passage) – we are taken back to Salander in her hospital bed removing her neck brace and hunting for a weapon. We are reminded that whatever has been done to her, she remains the ultimate survivor.
Critics of the Millennium Trilogy have pointed out that Salander’s implausible capacity for survival in this final book is worthy of a super-heroine, but while the author has always maintained a level of verisimilitude, he has also tacitly requested a certain suspension of disbelief where the abilities of his heroine are concerned. And most readers who have got this far would be more than prepared to extend that suspension.
Zalachenko is moving around the room on crutches and training himself to be able to move again. Salander opens her eyes when she hears a scraping sound in the corridor and a grim thought occurs to her: ‘Zalachenko is out there somewhere’. She is still in a neck brace and finds it difficult to move. Gullberg is informed that Björck is on sick leave – and the Zala affair is still very much on Gullberg’s mind. In the department there is a discussion of Salander and her fractious relationship with her sister Camilla, who was informed that Lisbeth was violent and mentally ill. They talked about their spectacular fight. It’s known that she has attacked a paedophile and that Bjurman was Salander’s guardian. They also discuss the fact that Inspector Bublanski considers that Bjurman raped Salander – news that astonishes Gullberg. He is told that Bjurman had a tattoo across his belly which read: ‘I am a sadistic pig, a pervert and a rapist’. Gullberg shows at this point an unusual streak of black humour: ‘Zalachenko’s daughter… You know what? I think you ought to recruit her for the section.’
Ironically, these enemies of Salander are prepared to accept the truth of this incident – a fairly unusual happening given the reluctance on the part of any establishment figures to believe that Salander is anything but the violent sociopath she is portrayed as. Gullberg and his associates discuss the fact that Bjurman made a contract with Zalachenko, hoping to get rid of the man’s daughter. The Russian, of course, had good reason to hate Lisbeth, and he gave the contract to the hulking Niedermann.
At this point, Larsson takes us back to a situation which is both threatening and fraught with a certain black humour. Salander is now fully compos mentis and is discussing her condition with the doctors. She learns that her father (‘the old bastard’) is down the hall – and realises that the scraping sound she heard was that of his crutches. Zalachenko has made it perfectly clear to Gullberg that unless the whole situation involving his hated daughter is resolved, he will crack the section wide open by talking to the media. They realise that he will have to be offered something.
Interestingly, Gullberg and his colleague Sandberg now consider the real problem is Zalachenko, not Salander (who they feel they can handle). They begin to examine the other people involved in the case, including the prosecutor Ekström and the policeman Bublanski. They note the fact that the policewoman in the investigation, Sonja Modig, is something of a special case, as is the ‘tough customer’ Anderson, who was sent by Bublanski to arrest Björck. Realising that the stage management of the affair is now getting ever more complex, Gullberg finally discusses with his colleagues the troublesome journalist Blomkvist, the man who submitted Björck’s report to the police. They are aware that Salander is somehow the link between everyone, but come to no conclusions.
Larsson now details for the reader the complex strategy used by Gullberg and his associates to deal with a convoluted situation. Dissenters from the view that Larsson justifies the immense amount of attention that has been paid to him have pointed to this section of the book as needlessly complicated. But aficionados know that nothing here is overcomplicated for its own sake – all of these elements have to be put into place so that the various resolutions will have sufficient dramatic weight. One element of the plan is to bug everyone connected with Millennium: Berger (even though Erika has left the magazine), Blomkvist and his lawyer sister Giannini.
Meanwhile, the doctors have decided that Salander’s condition is stable enough for her to receive visitors. These include police inspectors, who spend 15 minutes with her – one of them is Erlander and the other Modig. Lisbeth has reluctantly agreed to be represented by Blomkvist’s sister Giannini and she is told that the police are looking for a German citizen whose name is Niedermann, wanted for the murder of a policeman. She tells them that she thinks Niedermann will go abroad. When asked why, she replies that while Niedermann was digging a grave for her, Zalachenko mentioned that things were getting too hot and that it had already been decided that Niedermann should get out of the country.
Then (just in case the reader is thinking that things are finally going well for the beleaguered Salander) she is told that her father has made a formal accusation of murder against her, and that the case is now at the prosecutor’s office. She is, in fact, already under arrest for having attacked Zalachenko with an axe. Modig leans forward to tell her that the police put no faith in the Russian’s story. This unexpected move from the police surprises Salander: her standard response to them is one of loathing, and her initial impulse to think that perhaps she has finally encountered some human beings on the force is quickly dispensed with (‘there will be some ulterior motive’ is her cynical summing up of the situation).
In Chapter 7 there is a meeting between Blomkvist and Salander’s old employer, Armansky. Those who could recollect the beginning of the very first book in the sequence will remember that it wasn’t immediately established that Salander was really the central character of the sequence (despite the fact that she is the eponymous subject of all three books – at least in the English translations of the titles). But it’s perfectly clear by this stage of the final book that everyone – including the characters – know that they are all satellites revolving around the short-tempered shooting star that is Lisbeth Salander. Blomkvist says to Armansky, ‘When this is all over I’m going to found an association calle
d “The Knights of the Idiotic Table” and its purpose will be to arrange an annual dinner where we tell stories about Lisbeth Salander.’
The object of this attention wakes up with a start in her hospital bedroom, aware that she is being watched. She sees a silhouette with crutches in the doorway. It is Zalachenko. She thinks about stretching out her arm to break off the rim of a glass – it would take half a second to push the broken glass into her hated father’s throat if he came close to her. But he quietly retreats into the corridor. Salander has a meeting with her new attorney, Blomkvist’s sister. (Blomkvist, in the meantime, is reading all he can about the secret services.) Giannini conveys a message from her brother concerning a DVD – Salander is to decide whether or not she should tell her advocate about it (it is, of course, the film of Bjurman raping Salander). Salander is instructed that she is not to say anything to anyone except her lawyer – needless to say, this is something that Lisbeth is happy to accept without question.
Some readers may be led to speculate exactly what Stieg Larsson’s view of humanity was. Certainly, the central characters of his books, including the two principal protagonists, and several of those with whom they interact, are individuals with whom the reader can, to some extent, identify – although the terrifyingly violent Salander behaves in a way that is (it has to be said) off the scale for most readers. But these relatively sympathetic individuals are far outnumbered by the unspeakable miscellany of criminals, rapists and lowlifes with which the duo are obliged to deal. Certainly, life is cheap for most of the other characters in the sequence, notably such establishment figures as Gullberg.
It is in Chapter 7 that the real ruthlessness of this character is demonstrated, in a fashion that is reminiscent of a similarly abrupt murder in James Elroy’s LA Confidential. Gullberg visits Lisbeth’s father Zalachenko and asks him if he really planned to betray them after all they had done for them. The Russian replies that he is a survivor, and does what he has to do to survive. To his surprise, Gullberg snaps back that he considers him to be evil and rotten, and that he is not going to lift a finger to help him this time. Gullberg unzips the outer pocket of his case and pulls out a nine-millimetre Smith & Wesson revolver. ‘What are you going to do with that, shoot me?’ laughs Zalachenko. And at that point Gullberg squeezes the trigger and places a bullet in the centre of the Russian’s forehead. He follows this up by placing the muzzle against the Russian’s temple and pulling the trigger twice (reasoning that ‘he wanted to be sure this time that the bastard really was dead’).
Down the corridor, Salander hears the shot, but doesn’t realise that a job she had tried to do has been finished for her by someone else. Gullberg leaves the building, making no attempt to force his way into Lisbeth’s locked room. But Larsson’s surprises for the reader in this chapter are not over. Gullberg raises the gun a final time, presses it to his own head and pulls the trigger. In fact, he does not kill himself and lies somewhere between life and death.
Blomkvist is at a coffee bar when he hears of the death of Zalachenko, and leaving his coffee untouched snatches up his laptop and rushes to the editorial offices of Millennium. He asks immediately who the killer is, but nobody as yet knows (inevitably, he will be drawing the wrong conclusion). Erlander discusses with Malmberg the identity of the murderer – a 78-year-old man called Evert Gullberg who they say is a retired tax lawyer and who has a habit of sending threatening letters to people in government (including the minister of justice). But a discussion between Gullberg’s associates has Clinton delivering some significant information about Gullberg – he points out that he has been carrying the gun around for six months. He had cancer in the stomach, colon and bladder, and his violent act was one last favour for the section. His assignment was to make sure that Zalachenko never got a chance to talk.
When Gunnar Björck hears about the shooting in the hospital, he experiences a deep panic, and realises that he is now vulnerable and exposed. He goes back to the cabin and is astonished to see that the ceiling lamp has been removed and that in its place hangs a rope from a hook above a stool. He turns round, his knees buckling beneath him and sees two men of southern European appearance. They carry him to the stool, and calmly lift him up, gripping him under his arms.
Larsson provides an interesting paragraph for the policeman Erlander, investigating the elderly man who has killed Zalachenko. He wonders if he is one of the pathologically obsessed individuals that the world appears to be full of, such as those who stalk celebrities and look for love, and when the love is not returned – as inevitably it isn’t – it turns to violent hatred. Larsson then provides a similarly dispiriting list of the stalkers and psychopaths who populate the modern world, including conspiracy theorists and those who have the gift to ‘read messages’ hidden from the world that most of us inhabit. The passage is one that has a certain strength, as one feels that these are the people who concerned the author himself, as much as the right-wing extremists who were his target when working for Expo and suchlike. It was not a comfortable world, the one inhabited by Stieg Larsson – and perhaps his creation of two characters who can (to some degree) bring order out of chaos was an attempt at some kind of amelioration of the real world in fictional terms.
Continuing the physical personal threat that is one of the hallmarks of the final book in the trilogy, there is an assault on a character who has already been threatened with a gun – Blomkvist’s sister. She arrives with a black eye and a gash above her eyebrow to tell him that her briefcase has been stolen, and it contained the Zalachenko report that he gave her. Although he says it doesn’t matter and that it’s possible to make another copy, he realises with horror that she is now a target.
Part Two of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest is entitled ‘Hacker Republic’, and begins (as is customary with Larsson) with a feminist superscription, this time from an Irish law of the year 697 which forbade women to be soldiers – suggesting (as the author points out) – that women had been soldiers previously. Again we have a reference to the Amazons, almost as if Larsson thinks the reader may have forgotten this particular metaphor being conspicuously drawn for his combative heroine. It’s interesting that Larsson also speculates on the fact that the traditional image of the Amazon with the right breast removed in order to facilitate the drawing of a bow (the word literally means ‘without breast’) is not verified by any drawing, amulet or statue of a woman in a museum.
After a section in which we see Erika Berger attempting to fit in to her new magazine post, Larsson shows us Blomkvist under observation from Malm. The latter notes that Blomkvist is, in fact, clearly being tailed. In a conversation with Armansky, the journalist identifies the men who have been following him as representatives of Säpo. In the middle of the discussion between Blomkvist and Armansky there is a section in which the author’s own views are (one feels) made clear. It’s suggested that the Security Police invariably made fools of themselves – the natural order of things – and Larsson adduces for his argument examples from all over the world, such as the French Secret Police sending frogmen to New Zealand to blow up the Greenpeace ship Rainbow Warrior. Blomkvist learns something useful from Armansky – the latter has a contact within Säpo who is to be trusted, and in the battle ahead, this contact will be worth his weight in gold.
If Larsson at times invites the reader to be irritated at the actions of his characters, that is nothing compared to the irritation they cause in those they interact with in the narrative. Giannini is tired and frustrated after her dealings with Salander – she knows she is hiding something, as is Annika’s brother. Giannini tries to convince her client that her constant withholding of information will mean that she will be convicted, but Salander doesn’t seem to care.
We are then given another passage in which Larsson demonstrates his mastery of the psychology of the book’s protagonist: Lisbeth examines in her own mind the effect she has on many of the people around her. It isn’t the case that she simply doesn’t care how she is received; th
ings are more complex than that. But the element of self-loathing and self-destructiveness that was evident in the first book is still a motivator for her actions, often as powerful as her hatred of those who have set themselves against her.
Salander’s doctor, Jonasson, is visited by a man who is (he informs him) Peter Teleborian, the head physician at a psychiatric clinic in Uppsala. He was, he tells Jonasson, Salander’s psychiatrist when she was institutionalised, and the two men disagree on a diagnosis – the more sympathetic Jonasson suggests Asperger’s syndrome, but the reply is that Asperger patients do not generally set fire to their parents. The visiting psychiatrist believes her to be a clearly defined sociopath. Teleborian, however, is unable to persuade Jonasson that a visit with Salander is in order and leaves abruptly.
Blomkvist, meanwhile, is convinced that Salander is, as before, being set up for a fall and the articles he is writing for Millennium present a problem – he is not sure how to portray her in these pieces. The journalist has arranged a meeting with Idris Ghidi, a man he feels can be useful to him. The latter’s brothers were murdered by Saddam in the 1980s, along with his uncles a decade later. Blomkvist tells him that he has a job for him which is not illegal, but unusual. He tells him that he knows that one of his jobs is at the Sahlgrenska Hospital, cleaning a corridor in the intensive care unit six days a week. Ghidi nods assent to this, and Blomkvist tells him what it is that he wants him to do.
Of course, Larsson is fully aware that elements of conspiracy are de rigueur in any novel in this trilogy, and the ante is upped when Ekström continues to orchestrate a campaign against Blomkvist, based on the fact that he may reveal information about Zalachenko. He persuades others that they must do as he says in this regard, as Sweden is now in a particularly exposed position and that the fate of the country is in the hands of those who will help him silence the journalist. Even the KGB is invoked as part of the destabilising campaign supposedly orchestrated by Blomkvist and the dangerous Salander (she is considered, in colloquial terms, ‘stark raving mad’).
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