Armansky assured him that she was their very best researcher, and her report on him was excruciatingly thorough. A strange girl.

Salander was sitting at her PowerBook, but she was thinking about Mikael Blomkvist. She had never in her adult life allowed anyone to cross her threshold without an express invitation, and she could count those she had invited on one hand. Blomkvist had nonchalantly barged into her life, and she had uttered only a few lame protests.

Not only that, he had teased her.

Under normal circumstances that sort of behaviour would have made her mentally cock a pistol. But she had not felt an iota of threat or any sort of hostility from his side. He had good reason to read her the riot act, even report her to the police. Instead he had treated even her hacking into his computer as a joke.

That had been the most sensitive part of their conversation. Blomkvist seemed to be deliberately not broaching the subject, and finally she could not help asking the question.

“You said that you knew what I did.”

“You’ve been inside my computer. You’re a hacker.”

“How do you know that?” Salander was absolutely positive that she had left no traces and that her trespassing could not be discovered by anyone unless a top security consultant sat down and scanned the hard drive at the same time as she was accessing the computer.

“You made a mistake.”

She had quoted from a text that was only on his computer.

Salander sat in silence. Finally she looked up at him, her eyes expressionless.

“How did you do it?” he asked.

“My secret. What are you thinking of doing about it?”

Mikael shrugged.

“What can I do?”

“It’s exactly what you do as a journalist.”

“Of course. And that’s why we journalists have an ethics committee that keeps track of the moral issues. When I write an article about some bastard in the banking industry, I leave out, for instance, his or her private life. I don’t say that a forger is a lesbian or gets turned on by having sex with her dog or anything like that, even if it happens to be true. Bastards too have a right to their private lives. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

“So you encroached on my integrity. My employer doesn’t need to know who I have sex with. That’s my business.”

Salander’s face was creased by a crooked smile.

“You think I shouldn’t have mentioned that?”

“In my case it didn’t make a lot of difference. Half the city knows about my relationship with Erika. But it’s a matter of principle.”

“In that case, it might amuse you to know that I also have principles comparable to your ethics committee’s. I call them Salander’s Principles. One of them is that a bastard is always a bastard, and if I can hurt a bastard by digging up shit about him, then he deserves it.”

“OK,” Blomkvist said. “My reasoning isn’t too different from yours, but…”

“But the thing is that when I do a PI, I also look at what I think about the person. I’m not neutral. If the person seems like a good sort, I might tone down my report.”

“Really?”

“In your case I toned it down. I could have written a book about your sex life. I could have mentioned to Frode that Erika Berger has a past in Club Xtreme and played around with BDSM in the eighties-which would have prompted certain unavoidable notions about your sex life and hers.”

Blomkvist met Salander’s gaze. After a moment he laughed.

“You’re really meticulous, aren’t you? Why didn’t you put it in the report?”

“You are adults who obviously like each other. What you do in bed is nobody’s business, and the only thing I would have achieved by talking about her was to hurt both of you, or to provide someone with blackmail material. I don’t know Frode-the information could have ended up with Wennerström.”

“And you don’t want to provide Wennerström with information?”

“If I had to choose between you and him, I’d probably end up in your court.”

“Erika and I have a…our relationship is…”

“Please, I really don’t give a toss about what sort of relationship you have. But you haven’t answered my question: what do you plan to do about my hacking into your computer?”

“Lisbeth, I’m not here to blackmail you. I’m here to ask you to help me do some research. You can say yes or no. If you say no, fine, I’ll find someone else and you’ll never hear from me again.”

CHAPTER 19. Thursday, June 19-Sunday, June 29

While he waited for word on whether Vanger was going to pull through or not, Blomkvist spent the days going over his materials. He kept in close touch with Frode. On Thursday evening Frode brought him the news that the immediate crisis seemed to be over.

“I was able to talk to him for a while today. He wants to see you as soon as possible.”

So it was that, around 1:00 on the afternoon of Midsummer Eve, Blomkvist drove to Hedestad Hospital and went in search of the ward. He encountered an angry Birger Vanger, who blocked his way. Henrik could not possibly receive visitors, he said.

“That’s odd,” Blomkvist said, “Henrik sent word saying that he expressly wanted to see me today.”

“You’re not a member of the family; you have no business here.”

“You’re right. I’m not a member of the family. But I’m working for Henrik Vanger, and I take orders only from him.”

This might have led to a heated exchange if Frode had not at that moment come out of Vanger’s room.

“Oh, there you are. Henrik has been asking after you.”

Frode held open the door and Blomkvist walked past Birger into the room.

Vanger looked to have aged ten years. He was lying with his eyes half closed, an oxygen tube in his nose, and his hair more dishevelled than ever. A nurse stopped Blomkvist, putting a hand firmly on his arm.

“Two minutes. No more. And don’t upset him.” Blomkvist sat on a visitor’s chair so that he could see Vanger’s face. He felt a tenderness that astonished him, and he stretched out his hand to gently squeeze the old man’s hand.

“Any news?” The voice was weak.

Blomkvist nodded.

“I’ll give you a report as soon as you’re better. I haven’t solved the mystery yet, but I’ve found more new stuff and I’m following up a number of leads. In a week, perhaps two, I’ll be able to tell the results.”

The most Vanger could manage was to blink, indicating that he understood.

“I have to be away for a few days.”

Henrik raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not jumping ship. I have some research to do. I’ve reached an agreement with Dirch that I should report to him. Is that OK with you?”

“Dirch is…my man…in all matters.”

Blomkvist squeezed Vanger’s hand again.

“Mikael…if I don’t…I want you to…finish the job.”

“I will finish the job.”

“Dirch has…full…”

“Henrik, I want you to get better. I’d be furious with you if you went and died after I’ve made such progress.”

“Two minutes,” the nurse said.

“Next time we’ll have a long talk.”

Birger Vanger was waiting for him when he came out. He stopped him by laying a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t want you bothering Henrik any more. He’s very ill, and he’s not supposed to be upset or disturbed.”

“I understand your concern, and I sympathise. And I’m not going to upset him.”

“Everyone knows that Henrik hired you to poke around in his little hobby…Harriet. Dirch said that Henrik became very upset after a conversation you had with him before he had the heart attack. He even said that you thought you had caused the attack.”

“I don’t think so any more. Henrik had severe blockages in his arteries. He could have had a heart attack just by having a pee. I’m sure you know that by now.”

“I want full disclosure into this lunacy. This is my family you’re mucking around in.”