Nyström nodded.

“Which means that when we get word that Blomkvist has been shot, we’re going to have to put on a good show. We’ll call a crisis meeting and act thunderstruck by the development. We can speculate who might be behind the murder, but we’ll say nothing about the drugs until the police find the evidence.”

Blomkvist took leave of the presenter of She just before 5.00. They had spent the afternoon filling in the gaps in the material. Then Blomkvist had gone to make-up and subjected himself to a long interview on film.

One question had been put to him which he struggled to answer in a coherent way, and they had to film that section several times.

How is it possible that civil servants in the Swedish government will go so far as to commit murder?

Blomkvist had brooded over the question long before She’s presenter had asked it. The Section must have considered Zalachenko an unacceptable threat, but it was still not a satisfactory answer. The reply he eventually gave was not satisfactory either:

“The only reasonable explanation I can give is that over the years the Section developed into a cult in the true sense of the word. They became like Knutby, or the pastor Jim Jones or something like that. They write their own laws, within which concepts like right and wrong have ceased to be relevant. And through these laws they imagine themselves isolated from normal society.”

“It sounds like some sort of mental illness, don’t you think?”

“That wouldn’t be an inaccurate description.”

Blomkvist took the tunnelbana to Slussen. It was too early to go to Samir’s Cauldron. He stood on Södermalmstorg for a while. He was worried still, yet all of a sudden life felt right again. It was not until Berger came back to Millennium that he realized how terribly he had missed her. Besides, her retaking of the helm had not led to any internal strife; Eriksson had reverted happily to the position of assistant editor, indeed was almost ecstatic – as she put it – that life would now return to normal.

Berger’s coming back had also meant that everyone discovered how incredibly understaffed they had been during the past three months. Berger had had to resume her duties at Millennium at a run, and she and Eriksson managed to tackle together some of the organizational issues that had been piling up.

Blomkvist decided to buy the evening papers and have coffee at Java on Hornsgatan to kill time before he was to meet Berger.

Prosecutor Ragnhild Gustavsson of the National Prosecutors’ Office set her reading glasses on the conference table and studied the group. She had a lined but apple-cheeked face and short, greying hair. She had been a prosecutor for twenty-five years and had worked at the N.P.O. since the early ’90s. She was fifty-eight Only three weeks had passed since she had been without warning summoned to the N.P.O. to meet Superintendent Edklinth, Director of Constitutional Protection. That day she had been busily finishing up one or two routine matters so she could begin her six-week leave at her cabin on the island of Husarö with a clear conscience. Instead she had been assigned to lead the investigation of a group of civil servants who went by the name of “the Section”. Her holiday plans had quickly to be shelved. She had been advised that this would be her priority for the foreseeable future, and she had been given a more or less free hand to shape her operational team and take the necessary decisions.

“This may prove one of the most sensational criminal investigations this country has witnessed,” the Prosecutor General had told her.

She was beginning to think he was right.

She had listened with increasing amazement to Edklinth’s summary of the situation and the investigation he had undertaken at the instruction of the Prime Minister. The investigation was not yet complete, but he believed that his team had come far enough to be able to present the case to a prosecutor.

First of all Gustavsson had reviewed all the material that Edklinth had delivered. When the sheer scope of the criminal activity began to emerge, she realized that every decision she made would some day be pored over by historians and their readers. Since then she had spent every waking minute trying to get to grips with the numerous crimes. The case was unique in Swedish law, and since it involved charting criminal activity that had gone on for at least thirty years, she recognized the need for a very particular kind of operational team. She was reminded of the Italian government’s anti-Mafia investigators who had been forced in the ’70s and ’80s to work almost underground in order to survive. She knew why Edklinth himself had been bound to work in secret. He did not know whom he could trust.

Her first action was to call in three colleagues from the N.P.O. She selected people she had known for many years. Then she hired a renowned historian who had worked on the Crime Prevention Council to help with an analysis of the growth of Security Police responsibilities and powers over the decades. She formally appointed Inspector Figuerola head of the investigation.

At this point the investigation of the Section had taken on a constitutionally valid form. It could now be viewed like any other police investigation, even though its operation would be conducted in absolute secrecy.

Over the past two weeks Prosecutor Gustavsson had summoned a large number of individuals to official but extremely discreet interviews. As well as with Edklinth and Figuerola, interviews had been conducted with Criminal Inspectors Bublanski, Modig, Andersson and Holmberg. She had called in Mikael Blomkvist, Malin Eriksson, Henry Cortez, Christer Malm, Advokat Giannini, Dragan Armansky and Susanne Linder, and she had herself gone to visit Lisbeth Salander’s former guardian, Holger Palmgren. Apart from the members of Millennium’s staff who on principle did not answer questions that might reveal the identity of their sources, all had readily provided detailed answers, and in some cases supporting documentation as well.

Prosecutor Gustavsson had not been at all pleased to have been presented with a timetable that had been determined by Millennium. It meant that she would have to order the arrest of a number of individuals on a specific date. She knew that ideally she would have had several months of preparation before the investigation reached its present stage, but she had no choice. Blomkvist had been adamant. Millennium was not subject to any governmental ordinances or regulations, and he intended to publish the story on day three of Salander’s trial. Gustavsson was thus compelled to adjust her own schedule to strike at the same time, so that those individuals who were under suspicion would not be given a chance to disappear along with the evidence. Blomkvist received a surprising degree of support from Edklinth and Figuerola, and the prosecutor came to see that Blomkvist’s plan had certain clear advantages. As prosecutor she would get just the kind of fully focused media back-up she needed to push forward the prosecution. In addition, the whole process would move ahead so quickly that this complex investigation would not have time to leak into the corridors of the bureaucracy and thus risk being unearthed by the Section.

“Blomkvist’s first priority is to achieve justice for Salander. Nailing the Section is merely a by-product,” Figuerola said.

The trial of Lisbeth Salander was to commence on Wednesday, in two days’ time. The meeting on Monday involved doing a review of the latest material available to them and dividing up the work assignments.

Thirteen people participated in the meeting. From N.P.O., Ragnhild Gustavsson had brought her two closest colleagues. From Constitutional Protection, Inspector Monica Figuerola had come with Bladh and Berglund. Edklinth, as Director of Constitutional Protection, was sitting in as an observer.