Now alarm began spreading through the group. Even Malm thought for a moment that Blomkvist was serious. Then they all noticed his broad smile.
“What you have to do this autumn is play a double game. The disagreeable fact is that our dear managing editor, Janne Dahlman, is moonlighting as an informer for Hans-Erik Wennerström. This means that the enemy is being kept informed of exactly what’s going on in our editorial offices. This explains a number of setbacks we’ve experienced. You especially, Sonny, when advertisers who seemed positive pulled out without warning.”
Dahlman had never been popular in the office, and the revelation was apparently not a shock to anyone. Blomkvist cut short the murmuring that started up.
“The reason that I’m telling you this is because I have absolute confidence in all of you. I know that you’ve all got your heads screwed on straight. That’s why I also know that you’ll play along with what takes place this autumn. It’s very important that Wennerström believes that Millennium is on the verge of collapse. It will be your job to make sure he does.”
“What’s our real situation?” Cortez said.
“OK, here it is: by all accounts Millennium should be on its way to the grave. I give you my word that that’s not going to happen. Millennium is stronger today than it was a year ago. When this meeting is over, I’m going to disappear again for about two months. Towards the end of October I’ll be back. Then we’re going to clip Wennerström’s wings.”
“How are we going to do that?” Nilsson said.
“Sorry, Monika. I don’t want to give you the details, but I’m writing a new story, and this time we’re going to do it right. I’m thinking of having roast Wennerström for the Christmas party and various critics for dessert.”
The mood turned cheerful. Blomkvist wondered how he would have felt if he were one of them sitting listening to all this. Dubious? Most likely. But apparently he still had some “trust capital” among Millennium’s small group of employees. He held up his hand.
“If this is going to work, it’s important that Wennerström believes that Millennium is on the verge of collapse because I don’t want him to start some sort of retaliation or indeed get rid of the evidence which we mean to expose. So we’re going to start writing a script that you’ll follow during the coming months. First of all, it’s important that nothing we discuss here today is written down or is referred to in emails. We don’t know to what if any extent Dahlman has been digging around in our computers, and I’ve become aware that it’s alarmingly simple to read coworkers’ private email. So—we’re going to do this orally. If you feel the need to air anything, go and see Christer at home. Very discreetly.”
Blomkvist wrote “no email” on the whiteboard.
“Second, I want you to start squabbling among yourselves, complaining about me when Dahlman is around. Don’t exaggerate. Just give your natural bitchy selves full rein. Christer, I want you and Erika to have a serious disagreement. Use your imagination and be secretive about the cause.”
He wrote “start bitching” on the whiteboard.
“Third, when Erika comes home, her job will be to see to it that Janne Dahlman thinks our agreement with the Vanger Corporation—which is in fact giving us its full support—has fallen through because Henrik Vanger is seriously ill and Martin Vanger died in a car crash.”
He wrote the word “disinformation.”
“But the agreement really is solid?” Nilsson said.
“Believe me,” Blomkvist said, “the Vanger Corporation will go to great lengths to ensure that Millennium survives. In a few weeks, let’s say at the end of August, Erika will call a meeting to warn you about layoffs. You all know that it’s a scam, and that the only one who’s going to be leaving is Dahlman. But start talking about looking for new jobs and say what a lousy reference it is to have Millennium on your C.V.”
“And you really think that this game will end up saving Millennium?” Magnusson said.
“I know it will. And Sonny, I want you to put together a fake report each month showing falling advertising sales and showing that the number of subscribers has also dropped.”
“This sounds fun,” Nilsson said. “Should we keep it internal here in the office, or should we leak it to other media too?”
“Keep it internal. If the story shows up anywhere, we’ll know who put it there. In a very few months, if anyone asks us about it, we’ll be able to tell them: you’ve been listening to baseless rumours, and we’ve never considered closing Millennium down. The best thing that could happen is for Dahlman to go out and tip off the other mass media. If you’re able to give Dahlman a tip about a plausible but fundamentally idiotic story, so much the better.”
They spent an hour concocting a script and dividing up the various roles.
After the meeting Blomkvist had coffee with Malm at Java on Horngatspuckeln.
“Christer, it’s really important that you pick up Erika at the airport and fill her in. You have to convince her to play along with the game. If I know her, she’ll want to confront Dahlman instantly—but that can’t happen. I don’t want Wennerström to hear any kind of buzz and then manage to bury the evidence.”
“Will do.”
“And see to it that Erika stays away from her email until she installs the PGP encryption programme and learns how to use it. It’s pretty likely that through Dahlman, Wennerström is able to read everything we email to each other. I want you and everyone else in the editorial offices to install PGP. Do it in a natural way. Get the name of a computer consultant to contact and have him come over to inspect the network and all the computers in the office. Let him install the software as if it were a perfectly natural part of the service.”
“I’ll do my best. But Mikael—what are you working on?”
“Wennerström.”
“What exactly?”
“For the time being, that has to remain my secret.”
Malm looked uncomfortable. “I’ve always trusted you, Mikael. Does this mean that you don’t trust me?”
Blomkvist laughed.
“Of course I trust you. But right now I’m involved in rather serious criminal activities that could get me two years in prison. It’s the nature of my research that’s a little dubious … I’m playing with the same underhand methods as Wennerström uses. I don’t want you or Erika or anyone else at Millennium to be involved in any way.”
“You’re making me awfully nervous.”
“Stay cool, Christer, and tell Erika that the story is going to be a big one. Really big.”
“Erika will insist on knowing what you’re working on …”
Mikael thought for a second. Then he smiled.
“Tell her that she made it very clear to me in the spring when she signed a contract with Henrik Vanger behind my back that I’m now just an ordinary mortal freelancer who no longer sits on the board and has no influence on Millennium policy. Which means that I no longer have any obligation to keep her informed. But I promise that if she behaves herself, I’ll give her first option on the story.”
“She’s going to go through the roof,” Malm said cheerfully.
Blomkvist knew that he had not been entirely honest with Malm. He was deliberately avoiding Berger. The most natural thing would have been to contact her at once and tell her about the information in his possession. But he did not want to talk to her. A dozen times he had stood with his mobile in his hand, starting to call her. Each time he changed his mind.
He knew what the problem was. He could not look her in the eyes.
The cover-up in which he had participated in Hedestad was unforgivable from a professional point of view. He had no idea how he could explain it to her without lying, and if there was one thing he had never thought of doing, it was lying to Erika Berger.
Above all, he did not have the energy to deal with that problem at the same time as he was tackling Wennerström. So he put off seeing her, turned off his mobile, and avoided talking to her. But he knew that the re
prieve could only be temporary.
Right after the editorial meeting, Mikael moved out to his cabin in Sandhamn; he hadn’t been there in over a year. His baggage included two boxes of printouts and the CDs that Salander had given him. He stocked up on food, locked the door, opened his iBook, and started writing. Each day he took a short walk, bought the newspapers, and shopped for groceries. The guest marina was still filled with yachts, and young people who had borrowed their father’s boat were usually sitting in the Divers’ Bar, drinking themselves silly. Blomkvist scarcely took in his surroundings. He sat in front of his computer more or less from the moment he opened his eyes until he fell into bed at night, exhausted.
Encrypted email from editor in chief
P.S. I understood the insinuation that Christer relayed with such glee. You’re going to have to eat your words. Are you seriously cross with me?
P.P.S. I am trusting you for the time being, but you are going to have to give proof—you remember, the stuff that stands up in court—on J.D.
From
To
Hi Ricky. No, for God’s sake, I’m not cross. Forgive me for not keeping you updated, but the past few months of my life have been topsy-turvy. I’ll tell you everything when we see each other, but not by email. I’m at Sandhamn. There is a story, but the story is not Harriet Vanger. I’m going to be glued to my computer here for a while. Then it’ll be over. Trust me. Hugs and kisses. M.
From
To
Sandhamn? I’m coming to see you immediately.
From
To
Not right now. Wait a couple of weeks, at least until I’ve got the story organised. Besides, I’m expecting company.
From
To
In that case, of course I’ll stay away. But I have to know what’s going on. Henrik Vanger has become CEO again, and he doesn’t answer my calls. If the deal with Vanger is off, I absolutely need to know. Ricky
P.S. Who is she?
From
To
First of all: no question of Henrik pulling out. But he is still working only a short day, and I’m guessing that the chaos after Martin’s death and Harriet’s resurrection is taking its toll on his strength.
Second: Millennium will survive. I’m working on the most important report of our lives, and when we publish it, it’s going to sink Wennerström once and for all.
Third: My life is up and down right now, but as for you and me and Millennium—nothing has changed. Trust me. Kisses/Mikael.
P.S. I’ll introduce you as soon as an opportunity presents itself.
When Salander went out to Sandhamn she found an unshaven and hollow-eyed Blomkvist, who gave her a quick hug and asked her to make some coffee and wait while he finished what he was writing.
Salander looked around his cabin and decided almost at once that she liked it. It was right next to a jetty, with the water three paces from the door. It was only fifteen by eighteen feet but it had such a high ceiling that there was space for a sleeping loft. She could stand up straight there, just. Blomkvist would have to stoop. The bed was wide enough for both of them.
The cabin had one large window facing the water, right next to the front door. That was where his kitchen table stood, doubling as his desk. On the wall near the desk was a shelf with a CD player and a big collection of Elvis and hard rock, which was not Salander’s first choice.
In a corner was a woodstove made of soapstone with a glazed front. The rest of the sparse furnishings consisted of a large wardrobe for clothes and linen and a sink that also functioned as a washing alcove behind a shower curtain. Near the sink was a small window on one side of the cabin. Under the spiral stairs to the loft Blomkvist had built a separate space for a composting toilet. The whole cabin was arranged like the cabin on a boat, with clever cubbyholes for stowing things.
During her personal investigation of Mikael Blomkvist, Salander had found out that he had remodelled the cabin and built the furniture himself—a conclusion drawn from the comments of an acquaintance who had sent Mikael an email after visiting Sandhamn and was impressed by his handiwork. Everything was clean, unpretentious, and simple, bordering on spartan. She could see why he loved this cabin in Sandhamn so much.
After two hours she managed to distract Mikael enough that he turned off his computer in frustration, shaved, and took her out for a guided tour. It was raining and windy, and they quickly retreated to the inn. Blomkvist told her what he was writing, and Salander gave him a CD with updates from Wennerström’s computer.
Then she took him up to the loft and managed to get his clothes off and distract him even further. She woke up late that night to find herself alone. She peered down from the loft and saw him sitting hunched over his computer. She lay there for a long time, leaning on one hand, watching him. He seemed happy, and she too felt strangely content with life.
Salander stayed only five days before she went back to Stockholm to do a job for Armansky. She spent eleven days on the assignment, made her report, and then returned to Sandhamn. The stack of printed pages next to Mikael’s iBook was growing.
This time she stayed for four weeks. They fell into a routine. They got up at 8:00, ate breakfast, and spent an hour together. Then Mikael worked intently until late in the afternoon, when they took a walk and talked. Salander spent most of the days in bed, either reading books or surfing the Net using Blomkvist’s ADSL modem. She tried not to disturb him during the day. They ate dinner rather late and only then did Salander take the initiative and force him up to the sleeping loft, where she saw to it that he devoted all his attention to her.
It was as if she were on the very first holiday of her life.
Encrypted email from
To
Hi M. It’s now official. Janne Dahlman has resigned and starts working at Monopoly Financial Magazine in three weeks. I’ve done as you asked and said nothing, and everyone is going around playing monkey games. E.
P.S. They seem to be having fun. Henry and Lotta had a fight and started throwing things at each other a couple of days ago. They’ve been messing with Dahlman’s head so blatantly that I can’t understand how he can miss seeing that it’s all a put-up job.
From
To
Wish him good luck from me, will you, and let him go straight away. But lock up the silverware. Hugs and kisses/M.
From
To
I have no managing editor two weeks before we go to press, and my investigative reporter is sitting out in Sandhamn refusing to talk to me. Micke, I’m on my knees. Can you come in?/Erika.
From
To
Hold out another couple of weeks, then we’ll be home free. And start planning for a December issue that’s going to be unlike anything we’ve ever done. The piece will take up 40 pages. M.
From
To
40 PAGES!!! Are you out of your mind?
From
To
It’s going to be a special issue. I need three more weeks.
Could you do the following: (1) register a publishing company under the Millennium name, (2) get an ISBN number, (3) ask Christer to put together a cool logo for our new publishing company, and (4) find a good printer that can produce a paperback quickly and cheaply. And by the way, we’re going to need capital to print our first book. Kisses/Mikael
From
To
Special issue. Book publisher. Money. Yes, master. Anything else I can do for you? Dance naked at Slussplan?/E.
P.S. I assume you know what you’re doing. But what do I do about Dahlman?
From
To
Don’t do anything about Dahlman. Tell him he’s free to go right away and you aren’t sure you can pay his wages anyway. Monopoly isn’t going to survive for long. Bring in more freelance material for this issue. And hire a new managing editor, for God’s sake./M.
P.S. Slussplan? It’s a date.
From
To
Slussplan—in your dreams. But we’ve always done the hiring together./Ricky.
From
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo Trilogy Bundle Page 48