“What do you say to putting on some coffee instead?” Blomkvist looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Just past noon.

Berger nodded and pulled the bedroom door shut. Blomkvist and Cecilia looked at each other. Cecilia appeared embarrassed. They had made love and talked until 4:00 in the morning. Then Cecilia said she thought she’d sleep over and that in the future she wouldn’t give a tinker’s cuss who knew she was sleeping with Mikael Blomkvist. She had slept with her back to him and with his arm tucked around her breasts.

“Listen, it’s OK,” he said. “Erika’s married and she isn’t my girlfriend. We see each other now and then, but she doesn’t care at all if you and I have something…She’s probably pretty embarrassed herself right now.”

When they went into the kitchen a while later, Erika had set out coffee, juice, lemon marmalade, cheese, and toast. It smelled good. Cecilia went straight up to her and held out her hand.

“I was a little abrupt in there. Hi.”

“Dear Cecilia, I’m so sorry for stomping in like an elephant,” said a very embarrassed Erika Berger.

“Forget it, for God’s sake. And let’s have breakfast.”

After breakfast Berger excused herself and left them alone, saying that she had to go and say hello to Vanger. Cecilia cleared the table with her back to Mikael. He went up and put his arms around her.

“What’s going to happen now?” Cecilia said.

“Nothing. This is the way it is-Erika is my best friend. She and I have been together off and on for twenty years and will probably be, on and off, together for another twenty. I hope so. But we’ve never been a couple and we never get in the way of each other’s romances.”

“Is that what we have? A romance?”

“I don’t know what we have, but apparently we get along.”

“Where’s she going to sleep tonight?”

“We’ll find her a room somewhere. One of Henrik’s spare rooms. She won’t be sleeping in my bed, anyway.”

Cecilia thought about this for a moment.

“I don’t know if I can handle this. You and she might function that way, but I don’t know…I’ve never…” She shook her head. “I’m going back to my place. I have to think about this for a while.”

“Cecilia, you asked me earlier and I told you about my relationship with Erika. Her existence can’t be any great surprise to you.”

“That’s true. But as long as she was at a comfortable distance down in Stockholm I could ignore her.”

Cecilia put on her jacket.

“This situation is ludicrous,” she said with a smile. “Come over for dinner tonight. Bring Erika. I think I’m going to like her.”

Erika had already solved the problem of where to sleep. On previous occasions when she had been up to Hedeby to visit Vanger she had stayed in one of his spare rooms, and she asked him straight out if she could borrow the room again. Henrik could scarcely conceal his delight, and he assured her that she was welcome at any time.

With these formalities out of the way, Blomkvist and Berger went for a walk across the bridge and sat on the terrace of Susanne’s Bridge Café just before closing time.

“I’m really pissed off,” Berger said. “I drive all the way up here to welcome you back to freedom and find you in bed with the town femme fatale.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“How long have you and Miss Big Tits…” Berger waved her index finger.

“From about the time Vanger became part owner.”

“Aha.”

“What do you mean, aha?”

“Just curious.”

“Cecilia’s a good woman. I like her.”

“I’m not criticising. I’m just pissed off. Candy within reach and then I have to go on a diet. How was prison?”

“Like an uneventful holiday. How are things at the magazine?”

“Better. For the first time in a year the advertising revenue is on the rise. We’re way below this time last year, but we’ve turned the corner. Thanks to Henrik. But the weird thing is that subscriptions are going up too.”

“They tend to fluctuate.”

“By a couple of hundred one way or the other. But we’ve picked up three thousand in the past quarter. At first I thought it was just luck, but new subscribers keep coming in. It’s our biggest subscription jump ever. At the same time, our existing subscribers are renewing pretty consistently across the board. None of us can understand it. We haven’t run any ad campaigns. Christer spent a week doing spot checks on what sort of demographic is showing up. First, they’re all brand-new subscribers. Second, 70 percent of them are women. Normally it’s the other way around. Third, the subscribers can be described as middle-income white-collar workers from the suburbs: teachers, middle management, civil service workers.”

“Think it’s the middle-class revolt against big capital?”

“I don’t know. But if this keeps up, it’ll mean a significant shift in our subscriber profile. We had an editorial conference two weeks ago and decided to start running new types of material in the magazine. I want more articles on professional matters associated with TCO, the Swedish Confederation of Professional Employees, and also more investigative reporting on women’s issues, for instance.”

“Don’t change too much,” Blomkvist said. “If we’re getting new subscribers then it means that they like what we’re running already.”

Cecilia had also invited Vanger to dinner, possibly to reduce the risk of troublesome topics of conversation. She had made a venison stew. Berger and Vanger spent a good deal of the time discussing Millennium’s development and the new subscribers, but gradually the conversation moved on to other matters. Berger suddenly turned to Blomkvist at one point and asked him how his work was coming along.

“I’m counting on having a draft of the family chronicle complete in a month for Henrik to look at.”

“A chronicle in the spirit of the Addams family,” Cecilia said.

“It does have certain historical aspects,” Blomkvist conceded.

Cecilia glanced at Vanger.

“Mikael, Henrik isn’t really interested in a family chronicle. He wants you to solve the mystery of Harriet’s disappearance.”

Blomkvist did not say a word. Ever since he had begun his relationship with Cecilia he had talked fairly openly about Harriet with her. Cecilia had already deduced that this was his real assignment, even though he never formally admitted it. He had certainly never told Henrik that he and Cecilia had discussed the subject. Vanger’s bushy eyebrows drew together a bit. Erika was silent.

“My dear Henrik,” Cecilia said. “I’m not stupid. I don’t know what sort of agreement you and Mikael have, but his stay here in Hedeby is about Harriet. It is, isn’t it?”

Vanger nodded and glanced at Blomkvist.

“I told you she was sharp.” He turned to Berger. “I presume that Mikael has explained to you what he’s working on here in Hedeby.”

She nodded.

“And I presume you think it’s a senseless undertaking. No, you don’t have to answer that. It is an absurd and senseless task. But I have to find out.”

“I have no opinion on the matter,” Berger said diplomatically.

“Of course you do.” He turned to Blomkvist. “Tell me. Have you found anything at all that might take us forward?”

Blomkvist avoided meeting Vanger’s gaze. He thought instantly of the cold, unplaceable certainty he had had the night before. The feeling had been with him all day, but he had had no time to work his way through the album again. At last he looked up at Vanger and shook his head.

“I haven’t found a single thing.”

The old man scrutinised him with a penetrating look. He refrained from commenting.

“I don’t know about you young people,” he said, “but for me it’s time to go to bed. Thank you for dinner, Cecilia. Good night, Erika. Do see me before you leave tomorrow.”