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"Good evening, Herr Blomkvist," the PM said. "Excuse us for summoning you to this meeting on such short notice, but we've discussed the situation and agreed that we need to talk to you. May I offer you some coffee, or something else to drink?"
Blomkvist looked around. He saw a dining-room table of dark wood that was cluttered with glasses, coffee cups, and the remnants of sandwiches. They must have been there for a couple of hours already.
"Ramlosa," he said.
Figuerola poured him a mineral water. They sat down on the sofas as she stayed in the background.
"He recognized me and knew my name, where I live, where I work, and the fact that I'm a workout fanatic," Figuerola said to no-one in particular.
The prime minister glanced quickly at Edklinth and then at Blomkvist. Blomkvist realized at once that he was in a position of some strength. The prime minister needed something from him and presumably had no idea how much Blomkvist knew or did not know.
"How did you know who Inspector Figuerola was?" Edklinth said.
Blomkvist looked at the director of Constitutional Protection. He could not be sure why the prime minister had set up a meeting with him in a borrowed apartment in Ostermalm, but he suddenly felt inspired. There were not many ways it could have come about. It was Armansky who had set this in motion by giving information to someone he trusted. Which must have been Edklinth, or someone close to him. Blomkvist took a chance.
"A mutual friend spoke with you," he said to Edklinth. "You sent Figuerola to find out what was going on, and she discovered that some Sapo activists are running illegal phone taps and breaking into my apartment and stealing things. This means that you have confirmed the existence of what I call the Zalachenko club. It made you so nervous that you knew you had to take the matter further, but you sat in your office for a while and didn't know in which direction to go. So you went to the justice minister, and he in turn went to the prime minister. And now here we all are. What is it that you want from me?"
Blomkvist spoke with a confidence that suggested he had a source right at the heart of the affair and had followed every step Edklinth had taken. He knew that his guesswork was on the mark when Edklinth's eyes widened.
"The Zalachenko club spies on me, I spy on them," Blomkvist went on. "And you spy on the Zalachenko club. This situation makes the prime minister both angry and uneasy. He knows that at the end of this conversation awaits a scandal that the government might not survive."
Figuerola understood that Blomkvist was bluffing, and she knew how he had been able to surprise her by knowing her name and bio.
He saw me in my car on Bellmansgatan. He took the registration number and looked me up. But the rest is guesswork.
She did not say a word.
The prime minister certainly looked uneasy now.
"Is that what awaits us?" he said. "A scandal to bring down the government?"
"The survival of the government isn't my concern," Blomkvist said. "My role is to expose shit like the Zalachenko club."
The prime minister said: "And my job is to run the country in accordance with the constitution."
"Which means that my problem is definitely the government's problem. But not vice versa."
"Could we stop going around in circles? Why do you think I arranged this meeting?"
"To find out what I know and what I intend to do with it."
"Partly right. But more precisely, we've landed in a constitutional crisis. Let me first say that the government has absolutely no hand in this matter. We have been caught napping, without a doubt. I've never heard mention of this . . . what you call the Zalachenko club. The minister here has never heard a word about this matter either. Torsten Edklinth, an official high up in SIS who has worked in Sapo for many years, has never heard of it."
"It's still not my problem."
"I appreciate that. What I'd like to know is when you mean to publish your article, and exactly what it is you intend to publish. And this has nothing to do with damage control."
"Does it not?"
"Herr Blomkvist, the worst possible thing I could do in this situation would be to try to influence the shape or content of your story. Instead, I am going to propose a cooperation."
"Please explain."
"Since we have now had confirmation that a conspiracy exists within an exceptionally sensitive part of the administration, I have ordered an investigation." The PM turned to the minister of justice. "Please explain what the government has directed."
"It's very simple," said the minister of justice. "Torsten Edklinth has been given the task of finding out whether we can confirm this. He is to gather information that can be turned over to the prosecutor general, who in turn must decide whether charges should be brought. It is a very clear instruction. And this evening Edklinth has been reporting on how the investigation is proceeding. We've had a long discussion about the constitutional implications--of course we want it to be handled properly."
"Naturally," Blomkvist said in a tone that indicated he had scant trust in the prime minister's assurances.
"The investigation has already reached a sensitive stage. We have not yet identified exactly who is involved. That will take time. And that's why we sent Inspector Figuerola to invite you to this meeting."
"It wasn't exactly an invitation."
The prime minister frowned and glanced at Figuerola.
"It's not important," Blomkvist said. "Her behaviour was exemplary. Please come to the point."
"We want to know your publication date. This investigation is being conducted in great secrecy. If you publish before Edklinth has completed it, it could be ruined."
"And when would you like me to publish? After the next election, I suppose?"
"You decide that for yourself. It's not something I can influence. Just tell us, so that we know exactly what our deadline is."
"I see. You spoke about cooperation . . ."
The PM said: "Yes, but first let me say that under normal circumstances I would not have dreamed of asking a journalist to come to such a meeting."
"Presumably in normal circumstances you would be doing everything you could to keep journalists away from a meeting like this."
"Yes. But I understand that you're driven by several factors. You have a reputation for not pulling your punches when there's corruption involved. In this case there are no differences of opinion to divide us."
"Aren't there?"
"No, not in the least. Or rather, the differences that exist might be of a legal nature, but we share an objective. If this Zalachenko club exists, it is not merely a criminal conspiracy--it is a threat to national security. These activities must be stopped, and those responsible must be held accountable. On that point we would be in agreement, correct?"
Blomkvist nodded.
"I understand that you know more about this story than anyone else. We suggest that you share your knowledge. If this were a regular police investigation of an ordinary crime, the leader of the preliminary investigation could decide to summon you for an interview. But, as you can appreciate, this is an extreme state of affairs."
Blomkvist weighed the situation for a moment.
"And what do I get in return--if I do cooperate?"
"Nothing. I'm not going to haggle with you. If you want to publish tomorrow morning, then do so. I won't get involved in any horse-trading that might be constitutionally dubious. I'm asking you to cooperate in the interests of the country."
"In this case 'nothing' could be quite a lot," Blomkvist said. "For one thing, I'm very, very angry. I'm furious at the state and the government and Sapo and all these fucking bastards who for n
o reason at all locked up a twelve-year-old girl in a mental hospital until she could be declared incompetent."
"Lisbeth Salander has become a government matter," the PM said, and smiled. "Mikael, I am personally very upset over what happened to her. Please believe me when I say that those responsible will be held accountable. But before we can do that, we have to know who they are."
"My priority is that Salander should be acquitted and declared competent."
"I can't help you with that. I'm not above the law, and I can't direct what prosecutors and the courts decide. She has to be acquitted by a court."
"OK," Blomkvist said. "You want my cooperation. Give me some insight into Edklinth's investigation, and I'll tell you when and what I plan to publish."
"I can't give you that insight. That would be placing myself in the same relation to you as the minister of justice's predecessor once stood to the journalist Ebbe Carlsson."*
"I'm not Ebbe Carlsson," Blomkvist said calmly.
"I know that. On the other hand, Edklinth can decide for himself what he can share with you within the framework of his assignment."
"Hmm," Blomkvist said. "I want to know who Evert Gullberg was."
Silence fell over the group.
"Gullberg was presumably for many years the chief of that division within SIS which you call the Zalachenko club," Edklinth said.
The prime minister gave him a sharp look.
"I think he knows that already," Edklinth said by way of apology.
"That's correct," Blomkvist said. "He started at Sapo in the fifties. In the sixties he became chief of some outfit called the Section for Special Analysis. He was the one in charge of the Zalachenko affair."
The PM shook his head. "You know more than you ought to. I would very much like to discover how you came by all this information. But I'm not going to ask."
"There are holes in my story," Blomkvist said. "I need to fill them. Give me information and I won't try to compromise you."
"As prime minister I'm not in a position to deliver any such information. And Edklinth is on very thin ice if he does so."
"Don't bullshit me. I know what you want and you know what I want. If you give me information, then you'll be my sources--with all the enduring anonymity that implies. Don't misunderstand me. . . . I'll tell the truth as I see it in what I publish. If you are involved, I will expose you and do everything I can to ensure that you are never reelected. But as of yet I have no reason to believe that is the case."
