Giannini turned to Judge Iversen. “I asked to have a projector available today…”

“It’s in place,” the judge said.

“Could we close the curtains, please?”

Giannini opened her PowerBook and plugged in the cables to the projector. She turned to her client.

“Lisbeth. We’re going to look at the film. Are you ready for this?”

“I’ve lived through it,” Salander said dryly.

“And I have your approval to show it here?”

Salander nodded. She fixed her eyes on Teleborian.

“Can you tell us when the film was made?”

“On 7 March, 2003.”

“Who shot the film?”

“I did. I used a hidden camera, standard equipment at Milton Security.”

“Just one moment,” Prosecutor Ekström shouted. “This is beginning to resemble a circus act.”

“What is it we are about to see?” Judge Iversen said with a sharp edge to his voice.

“Dr Teleborian claims that Lisbeth Salander’s account of her rape by Advokat Bjurman is a fantasy. I am going to show you evidence to the contrary. The film is ninety minutes long, but I will only show a few short excerpts. I warn you that it contains some very unpleasant scenes.”

“Is this some sort of trick?” Ekström said.

“There’s a good way to find out,” said Giannini and started the D.V.D. in her laptop.

“Haven’t you even learned to tell the time?” Advokat Bjurman greets her gruffly. The camera enters his apartment.

After nine minutes Judge Iversen banged his gavel. Advokat Bjurman was being shown violently shoving a dildo into Lisbeth Salander’s anus. Giannini had turned up the volume. Salander’s half-stifled screams through the duct tape that covered her mouth were heard throughout the courtroom.

“Turn off the film,” Judge Iversen said in a very loud and commanding voice.

Giannini pressed stop and the ceiling lights were turned back on. Judge Iversen was red in the face. Prosecutor Ekström sat as if turned to stone. Teleborian was as pale as a corpse.

“Advokat Giannini… How long is this film, did you say?”

“Ninety minutes. The rape itself went on in stages for about five or six hours, but my client only has a vague sense of the violence inflicted upon her in the last few hours.” Giannini turned to Teleborian. “There is a scene, however, in which Bjurman pushes a needle through my client’s nipple, something that Doctor Teleborian maintains is an expression of Lisbeth Salander’s wild imagination. It takes place in minute seventy-two, and I’m offering to show the episode here and now.”

“Thank you, that won’t be necessary,” the judge said. “Fröken Salander…”

For a second he lost his train of thought and did not know how to proceed.

“Fröken Salander, why did you record this film?”

“Bjurman had already subjected me to one rape and was demanding more. The first time he made me suck him off, the old creep. I thought it was going to be a repeat. I thought I’d be able to get such good evidence of what he did that I could then blackmail him into staying away from me. I misjudged him.”

“But why did you go not to the police when you have such… irrefutable evidence?”

“I don’t talk to policemen,” Salander said flatly.

Palmgren stood up from his wheelchair. He supported himself by leaning on the edge of the table. His voice was very clear.

“Our client on principle does not speak to the police or to other persons of authority, and least of all to psychiatrists. The reason is simple. From the time she was a child she tried time and again to talk to police and social workers to explain that her mother was being abused by Alexander Zalachenko. The result in every instance was that she was punished because government civil servants had decided that Zalachenko was more important than she was.”

He cleared his throat and continued.

“And when she eventually concluded that nobody was listening to her, her only means of protecting her mother was to fight Zalachenko with violence. And then this bastard who calls himself a doctor” – he pointed at Teleborian – “wrote a fabricated psychiatric diagnosis which described her as mentally ill, and it gave him the opportunity to keep her in restraints at St Stefan’s for 380 days. What a bastard.”

Palmgren sat down. Judge Iversen was surprised by this outburst. He turned to Salander.

“Would you perhaps like to take a break…”

“Why?” Salander said.

“Alright, then we’ll continue. Advokat Giannini, the recording will be examined, and I will require a technical opinion to verify its authenticity. But I cannot tolerate seeing any more of these appalling scenes at present. Let’s proceed.”

“Gladly. I too find them appalling,” said Giannini. “My client has been subjected to multiple instances of physical and mental abuse and legal misconduct. And the person most to blame for this is Dr Peter Teleborian. He betrayed his oath as a physician and he betrayed his patient. Together with a member of an illegal group within the Security Police, Gunnar Björck, he patched together a forensic psychiatric assessment for the purpose of locking up an inconvenient witness. I believe that this case must be unique in Swedish jurisprudence.”

“These are outrageous accusations,” Teleborian said. “I have done my best to help Lisbeth Salander. She tried to murder her father. It’s perfectly obvious that there’s something wrong with her-”

Giannini interrupted him.

“I would now like to bring to the attention of the court Dr Teleborian’s second forensic psychiatric assessment of my client, presented at this trial today. I maintain that it is a lie, just as the report from 1991 was a lie.”

“Well, this is simply-” Teleborian spluttered.

“Judge Iversen, could you please ask the witness to stop interrupting me?”

“Herr Teleborian…”

“I will be quiet. But these are outrageous accusations. It’s not surprising that I’m upset-”

“Herr Teleborian, please be quiet until a question is directed at you. Do go on, Advokat Giannini.”

“This is the forensic psychiatric assessment that Dr Teleborian has presented to the court. It is based on what he has termed ‘observations’ of my client which were supposed to have taken place after she was moved to Kronoberg prison on June 5. The examination was supposed to have been concluded on July 5.”

“Yes, so I have understood,” Judge Iversen said.

“Dr Teleborian, is it the case that you did not have the opportunity to examine or observe my client before June 6? Before that she was at Sahlgrenska hospital in Göteborg, where she was being kept in isolation, as we know.”

“Yes.”

“You made attempts on two separate occasions to gain access to my client at Sahlgrenska. Both times you were denied admittance.”

Giannini opened her briefcase and took out a document. She walked around her table and handed it to Judge Iversen.

“I see,” the judge said. “This appears to be a copy of Dr Teleborian’s report. What is your point?”

“I would like to call upon two witnesses. They are waiting outside the courtroom now.”

“Who are these witnesses?”

“They are Mikael Blomkvist from Millennium magazine, and Superintendent Torsten Edklinth, Director of the Constitutional Protection Unit of the Security Police.”

“And they are outside?”

“Yes.”

“Show them in,” Judge Iversen said.

“This is highly irregular,” Prosecutor Ekström said.

Ekström had watched in extreme discomfort as Giannini shredded his key witness. The film had been devastating evidence. The judge ignored Ekström and gestured to the bailiff to open the door to admit Blomkvist and Edklinth.

“I would first like to call upon Mikael Blomkvist.”

“Then I would ask that Herr Teleborian stand down for a while,” Judge Iverson said.

“Are you finished with me?” Teleborian said.

“No, not by any means,” Giannini said.

Blomkvist replaced Teleborian in the witness box. Judge Iversen swiftly dealt with the formalities, and Blomkvist took the oath.