AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Monica and I met during the investigation. She's my contact at SIS."
"I understand," Berger said, and she began to shake as suddenly the shock set in.
Figuerola stared hard at Berger.
"What went wrong?" Blomkvist said.
"We misinterpreted the reason for the cocaine," Figuerola said. "We thought they were setting a trap for you, to create a scandal. Now we know they wanted to kill you. They were going to let the police find the cocaine when they went through your apartment."
"What cocaine?" Berger said.
Blomkvist closed his eyes for a moment.
"Take me to St. Goran's," he said.
*
"Arrested?" Clinton barked. He felt a butterfly-light pressure around his heart.
"We think it's all right," Nystrom said. "It seems to have been sheer bad luck."
"Bad luck?"
"Miro Nikolich was wanted on some old assault story. A policeman from the gangs unit happened to recognize him when he went into Samir's Cauldron and wanted to arrest him. Nikolich panicked and tried to shoot his way out."
"And Blomkvist?"
"He wasn't involved. We don't even know if he was in the restaurant at the time."
"This cannot be fucking true," Clinton said. "What do the Nikolich brothers know?"
"About us? Nothing. They think Bjorck and Blomkvist were both hits that had to do with trafficking."
"But they know that Blomkvist was the target?"
"Sure, but they're hardly going to start blabbing about being hired to do a hit. They'll keep their mouths shut all the way to district court. They'll do time for possession of illegal weapons and, as like as not, for resisting arrest."
"Those damned fuck-ups," Clinton said.
"Well, they seriously screwed up. We've had to let Blomkvist give us the slip for the moment, but no harm was actually done."
It was 11:00 by the time Linder and two hefty bodyguards from Milton Security's personal protection unit collected Blomkvist and Berger from Kungsholmen.
"You really do get around," Linder said.
"Sorry," Berger said gloomily.
Berger had been in a state of shock as they drove to St. Goran's. It had dawned on her all of a sudden that both she and Blomkvist had very nearly been killed.
Blomkvist had spent an hour in the ER having his head X-rayed and his face bandaged. His left middle finger was put in a splint. The end joint was badly bruised and he would lose the fingernail. Ironically, the main injury was caused when Andersson came to his rescue and pulled Nikolich off him. Blomkvist's middle finger had been caught in the trigger guard of the M/45 and had snapped straight across. It hurt a lot, but the injury was hardly life-threatening.
For Blomkvist the shock did not set in until two hours later, when he had arrived at Constitutional Protection at SIS and reported to Inspector Bublanski and Prosecutor Gustavsson. He began to shiver and felt so tired that he almost fell asleep between questions. At that point a certain amount of palavering ensued.
"We don't know what they're planning, and we have no idea whether Mikael was the only intended victim," Figuerola said. "Or whether Erika here was supposed to die too. We don't know if they will try again or if anyone else at Millennium is being targeted. And why not kill Salander? After all, she's the truly serious threat to the Section."
"I called my colleagues at Millennium while Mikael was being patched up," Berger said. "Everyone's going to lie extremely low until the magazine comes out. The office will be left unstaffed."
Edklinth's immediate reaction had been to order bodyguard protection for Blomkvist and Berger. But on reflection he and Figuerola decided that it would not be the smartest move to contact SIS's Personal Protection unit. Berger solved the problem by declining police protection. She called Armansky to explain what had happened, which was why, later that night, Linder was called in for duty.
Blomkvist and Berger were lodged on the top floor of a safe house just beyond Drottningholm on the road to Ekero. It was a large 1930s villa overlooking Lake Malaren. It had an impressive garden, outbuildings, and extensive grounds. The estate was owned by Milton Security, but Martina Sjogren lived there. She was the widow of Hans Sjogren, their colleague of many years, who had died in an accident on assignment fifteen years earlier. After the funeral, Armansky had talked with Fru Sjogren and then hired her as housekeeper and general caretaker of the property. She lived rent-free in a wing of the ground floor and kept the top floor ready for those occasions, a few times each year, when Milton Security needed to hide away individuals who for real or imagined reasons feared for their safety.
Figuerola went with them. She sank onto a chair in the kitchen and allowed Fru Sjogren to serve her coffee, while Berger and Blomkvist settled in upstairs and Linder checked the alarm and electronic surveillance equipment around the property.
"There are toothbrushes and so on in the chest of drawers outside the bathroom," Sjogren called up the stairs.
Linder and Milton's bodyguards installed themselves in rooms on the ground floor.
"I've been on the go ever since I was woken at 4:00," Linder said. "You can put together a watch schedule, but let me sleep till at least 5:00."
"You can sleep all night. We'll take care of this," one of the bodyguards said.
"Thanks," Linder said, and she went straight to bed.
Figuerola listened absent-mindedly as the bodyguards switched on the motion detector in the courtyard and drew straws to see who would take the first watch. The one who lost made himself a sandwich and went into the TV room next to the kitchen. Figuerola studied the flowery coffe
e cups. She too had been on the go since early morning and was feeling fairly exhausted. She was just thinking about driving home when Berger came downstairs and poured herself a cup of coffee. She sat down across from Figuerola.
"Mikael went out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow."
"Reaction to the adrenaline," Figuerola said.
"What happens now?"
"You'll have to lie low for a few days. Within a week this will all be over, whichever way it ends. How are you feeling?"
"So-so. A bit shaky still. It's not every day something like this happens. I just called my husband to explain why I wouldn't be coming home."
"Hmm."
"I'm married to--"
"I know who you're married to."
Silence. Figuerola rubbed her eyes and yawned.
"I have to go home and get some sleep," she said.
"Oh, for God's sake, stop talking nonsense and go and lie down with Mikael," Berger said.
Figuerola looked at her.
"Is it that obvious?" she said.
Berger nodded.
"Did Mikael say anything?"
"Not a word. He's generally rather discreet when it comes to his lady friends. But sometimes he's an open book. And you're clearly hostile every time you even look at me. The two of you obviously have something to hide."
"It's my boss," Figuerola said.
"Where does he come into it?"
"He'd fly off the handle if he knew that Mikael and I were--"
"I can see that."
Silence.
"I don't know what's going on between you two, but I'm not your rival," Berger said.
"You're not?"
"Mikael and I sleep together now and then. But I'm not married to him."
"I heard that you two had a special relationship. He told me about you when we were out at Sandhamn."
"So you've been to Sandhamn? Then it is serious."
"Don't make fun of me."
"Monica, I hope that you and Mikael . . . I'll try to stay out of your way."
"And if you can't?"
Berger shrugged. "His ex-wife flipped out big time when Mikael was unfaithful with me. She threw him out. It was my fault. As long as Mikael is single and available, I would have no compunction. But I promised myself that if he was ever serious about someone, then I'd keep my distance."
"I don't know if I dare count on him."
"Mikael is special. Are you in love with him?"
"I think so."
"All right, then. Just don't tell him too soon. Now go to bed."
