The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest m(-3

by Stieg Larsson

  Good Lord. What sort of a mess have I landed in?

  And then, How the hell am I going to get out of it?

  He stroked his goatee. He cleared his throat. Slowly he removed his glasses.

  “I regret to say that it seems I have been misinformed on a number of essential points in this investigation.”

  He wondered if he could shift the blame on to the police investigators. Then he had a vision of Inspector Bublanski. Bublanski would never back him up. If Ekström made one wrong move, Bublanski would call a press conference and sink him.

  Ekström met Salander’s gaze. She was sitting there patiently, and in her eyes he read both curiosity and vengeance.

  No compromises.

  He could still get her convicted of grievous bodily harm in Stallarholmen. And he could probably get her convicted for the attempted murder of her father in Gosseberga. That would mean changing his strategy immediately; he would drop everything that had anything to do with Teleborian. All claims that she was a psychopath had to go, but that meant that her story would be strengthened all the way back to 1991. The whole declaration of incompetence was bogus, and with that…

  Plus she had that blasted film…

  Then it struck him.

  Good God. She’s a victim, pure and simple.

  “Judge Iverson… I believe I can no longer rely on the documents I have here in my hand.”

  “I suppose not,” Judge Iversen said.

  “I’m going to have to ask for a recess, or that the trial be suspended until I am able to make certain adjustments to my case.”

  “Advokat Giannini?” the judge said.

  “I request that my client be at once acquitted on all counts and be released immediately. I also request that the district court take a definite position on the question of Fröken Salander’s declaration of incompetence. Moreover, I believe that she should adequately be compensated for the violations of her rights that have occurred.”

  Lisbeth Salander turned towards Judge Iversen.

  No compromises.

  Judge Iversen looked at Salander’s autobiography. He then looked over at Prosecutor Ekström.

  “I too believe we would be wise to investigate exactly what has happened that brings us to this sorry pass. I fear that you are probably not the right person to conduct that investigation. In all my years as a jurist and judge, I have never been party to anything even approaching the legal dilemma in this case. I confess that I am at a loss for words. I have never even heard of a case in which the prosecutor’s chief witness is arrested during a court in session, or of a quite convincing argument turning out to be an utter fabrication. I honestly do not see what is left of the prosecutor’s case.”

  Palmgren cleared his throat.

  “Yes?” Iversen said.

  “As a representative for the defence, I can only share your feelings. Sometimes one must step back and allow common sense to guide the formal procedures. I’d like to state that you, in your capacity as judge, have seen only the first stage of a scandal that is going to rock the whole establishment. Today ten police officers from within Säpo have been arrested. They will be charged with murder and a list of crimes so long that it will take quite some time to draw up the report.”

  “I presume that I must decide on a suspension of this trial.”

  “If you’ll excuse me for saying so, I think that would be an unfortunate decision.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Lisbeth Salander is innocent. Her ‘fantastical’ autobiography, as Herr Ekström so contemptuously dismissed it, is in fact true. And it can all be proven. She has suffered an outrageous violation of her rights. As a court we could now stick with formal procedure and continue with the trial until finally we arrive at an acquittal, but there is an obvious alternative: to let a new investigation take over everything concerning Lisbeth Salander. An investigation is already underway to sort out an integral part of this mess.”

  “I see what you mean.”

  “As the judge of this case you have a choice. The wise thing to do would be to reject the prosecutor’s entire preliminary investigation and request that he does his homework.”

  Judge Iversen looked long and hard at Ekström.

  “The just thing to do would be to acquit our client at once. She deserves in addition an apology, but the redress will take time and will depend upon the rest of the investigation.”

  “I understand the points you’re making, Advokat Palmgren. But before I can declare your client innocent I will have to have the whole story clear in my mind. That will probably take a while…”

  He hesitated and looked at Giannini.

  “If I decide that the court will adjourn until Monday and accommodate your wishes insofar as I see no reason to keep your client in custody any longer – which would mean that you could expect that, no matter what else happens, she will not be given a prison sentence – can you guarantee that she will appear for continued proceedings when summoned?”

  “Of course,” Palmgren said quickly.

  “No,” Salander said in a sharp voice.

  Everyone’s eyes turned to the person who was at the heart of the entire drama.

  “What do you mean by that?” Judge Iversen said.

  “The moment you release me I’m going to leave the country. I do not intend to spend one more minute of my time on this trial.”

  “You would refuse to appear?”

  “That is correct. If you want me to answer more questions, then you’ll have to keep me in prison. The moment you release me, this story is settled as far as I’m concerned. And that does not include being available for an indefinite time to you, to Ekström, or to any police officers.”

  Judge Iversen sighed. Palmgren looked bewildered.

  “I agree with my client,” Giannini said. “It is the government and the authorities who have committed crimes against Lisbeth Salander, not the other way around. At the very least she deserves to be able to walk out of that door with an acquittal and the chance to put this whole story behind her.”

  No compromises.

  Judge Iversen glanced at his watch.

  “It is 3.00. That means that you’re going to force me to keep your client in custody.”

  “If that’s your decision, then we accept it. As Fröken Salander’s representative I request that she be acquitted of the charges brought by Prosecutor Ekström. I request that you release my client without restrictions, and without delay. And I request that her previous declaration of incompetence be rescinded and that her civil rights be immediately restored.”

  “The matter of the declaration of incompetence is a significantly longer process. I would have to get statements from psychiatric experts after she has been examined. I cannot simply make a snap decision about that.”

  “No,” Giannini said. “We do not accept that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Lisbeth Salander must have the same civil rights as any other citizen of Sweden. She has been the victim of a crime. She was falsely declared incompetent. We have heard evidence of that falsification. The decision to place her under guardianship therefore lacks a legal basis and must be unconditionally rescinded. There is no reason whatsoever for my client to submit to a psychiatric examination. No-one else has to prove that they are not mentally ill if they are the victim of a crime.” Judge Iversen considered the matter for a moment. “Advokat Giannini, I realize that this is an exceptional situation. I’m calling a recess of fifteen minutes so that we can stretch our legs and gather our thoughts. I have no wish that your client be kept in custody tonight if she is innocent, but that means that this trial will have to continue today until we are done.”

  “That sounds good to me,” said Giannini.

  Blomkvist hugged his sister. “How did it go?”

  “Mikael, I was brilliant against Teleborian. I annihilated him.”

  “I told you you’d be unbeatable. When it comes down to it, this story is not primarily about spies and secre
t government agencies; it’s about violence against women, and the men who enable it. From what little I heard and saw, you were phenomenal. She’s going to be acquitted.”

  “You’re right. There’s no longer any doubt”

  Judge Iversen banged his gavel.

  “Could you please sum up the facts from beginning to end, so that I can get a clear picture of what actually happened?”

  “Let’s begin,” Giannini said, “with the astounding story of a group within the Security Police who call themselves ‘the Section’, and who got hold of a Soviet defector in the mid-’70s. The story is published today in Millennium magazine. I imagine it will be the lead story on all the news broadcasts this evening…”

  At 6.00 that evening Judge Iversen decided to release Salander and to revoke her declaration of incompetence.

  But the decision was made on one condition: Judge Iversen demanded that Salander submit to an interview in which she would formally testify to her knowledge of the Zalachenko affair. At first she refused. This refusal brought about a moment’s wrangling until Judge Iversen raised his voice. He leaned forward and fixed his gaze on Salander.

  “Fröken Salander, if I rescind your declaration of incompetence, that will mean that you have exactly the same rights as all other citizens. It also means that you have the same obligations. It is therefore your duty to manage your finances, pay taxes, obey the law, and assist the police in investigations of serious crimes. So I am summoning you to be questioned like any other citizen who has information that might be vital to an investigation.”

  The force of this logic seemed to sink in. She pouted and looked cross, but she stopped arguing.

  “When the police have interviewed you, the leader of the preliminary investigation – in this case the Prosecutor General – will decide whether you will be summoned as a witness in any future legal proceedings. Like any other Swedish citizen, you can refuse to obey such a summons. How you act is none of my concern, but you do not have carte blanche. If you refuse to appear, then like any other adult you may be charged with obstruction of justice or perjury. There are no exceptions.”

  Salander’s expression darkened yet more.

  “So, what is your decision?” Judge Iversen said.

  After thinking it over for a minute, Salander gave a curt nod.

  O.K. A little compromise.

  During her summary of the Zalachenko affair that evening, Giannini launched a savage attack on Prosecutor Ekström. Eventually Ekström admitted that the course of events had proceeded more or less as Giannini had described them. He had been helped during the preliminary investigation by Superintendent Nyström, and had received his information from Dr Teleborian. In Ekström’s case there was no conspiracy. He had gone along with the Section in good faith in his capacity as leader of the preliminary investigation. When the whole extent of the conspiracy finally dawned on him, he decided to withdraw all charges against Salander, and that decision meant that a raft of bureaucratic formalities could be set aside. Judge Iversen looked relieved.

  Palmgren was exhausted after his day in court, the first in many years. He needed to go back to the Ersta rehabilitation home and go to bed. He was driven there by a uniformed guard from Milton Security. As he was leaving, he put a hand on Salander’s shoulder. They looked at each other, saying nothing. After a moment she nodded.

  Giannini called Blomkvist at 7.00 to tell him that Salander had been acquitted of all charges, but that she was going to have to stay at police headquarters for what might be another couple of hours for her interview.

  The news came as the entire staff of Millennium were gathered at the office. The telephones had been ringing incessantly since the first copies of the magazine had been distributed by messenger that lunchtime to other newsrooms across the city. In the early evening T.V.4 had broadcast its first special program on Zalachenko and the Section. The media were having a field day.

  Blomkvist walked into the main office, stuck his fingers in his mouth and gave a loud whistle.

  “Great news. Salander has been acquitted on all counts.”

  Spontaneous applause broke out. Then everyone went back to talking on their telephones as if nothing had happened.

  Blomkvist looked up at the television that had been turned on in the editorial office. The news on T.V.4 was just starting. The trailer was a brief clip of the film showing Sandberg planting cocaine in his apartment on Bellmansgatan.

  “Here we can clearly see a Säpo officer planting what we later learn is cocaine at the apartment of Mikael Blomkvist, journalist at Millennium magazine.”

  Then the anchorman came on the screen.

  “Twelve officers of the Security Police were today arrested on a range of criminal charges, including murder. Welcome to this extended news broadcast.”

  Blomkvist turned off the sound when She came on, and he saw himself sitting in a studio armchair. He already knew what he had said. He looked over at the desk where Svensson had sat. All his research documents on the sex-trafficking industry were gone, and the desk was once more home to stacks of newspapers and piles of unsorted paper that nobody had time to deal with.

  For Blomkvist, it was at that desk that the Zalachenko affair had begun. He wished that Svensson had been able to see the conclusion of it. A pile of copies of his just-published book was on the table next to Blomkvist’s own about the Section.

  You would have loved this moment, Dag.

  He heard the telephone in his office ringing, but he could not face picking it up. He pulled the door shut and went into Berger’s office and sank into a comfortable chair by the window. Berger was on the telephone. He looked about. She had been back a month, but had not yet got around to putting up the paintings and photographs that she had taken away when she left in April. The bookshelves were still bare.

  “How does it feel?” she said when she hung up.

  “I think I’m happy,” he said.

  She laughed. “The Section is going to be a sensation. Every newsroom is going crazy for it. Do you feel like appearing on Aktuellt at 9.00 for an interview?”

  “I think not.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “We’re going to be talking about this for several months. There’s no rush.”

  She nodded.

  “What are you doing later this evening?” Berger said.

  “I don’t know.” He bit his lip. “Erika… I…”

  “Figuerola,” Berger said with a smile.

  He nodded.

  “So it’s serious?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She’s terribly in love with you.”

  “I think I’m in love with her too,” he said.

  “I promise I’ll keep my distance until, you know… well, maybe,” she said.

  At 8.00 Armansky and Linder appeared at Millennium’s offices. They thought the occasion called for champagne, so they had brought over a crate from the state liquor store. Berger hugged Linder and introduced her to everyone. Armansky took a seat in Blomkvist’s office.

  They drank their champagne. Neither of them said anything for quite a while. It was Armansky who broke the silence.

  “You know what, Blomkvist? The first time we met, on that job in Hedestad, I didn’t much care for you.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “You came over to sign a contract when you hired Lisbeth as a researcher.”

  “I remember.”

  “I think I was jealous of you. You’d known her only for a couple of hours, yet she was laughing with you. For some years I’d tried to be Lisbeth’s friend, but I have never once made her smile.”

  “Well… I haven’t really been that successful either.”

  They sat in silence once again.

  “Great that all this is over,” Armansky said.

  “Amen to that,” Blomkvist said, and they raised their glasses in salute.

  Inspectors Bublanski and Modig conducted the formal interview with Salander. They had both been
at home with their families after a particularly taxing day but were immediately summoned to return to police headquarters.

  Salander was accompanied by Giannini. She gave precise responses to all the questions that Bublanski and Modig asked, and Giannini had little occasion to comment or intervene.

  Salander lied consistently on two points. In her description of what had happened in Stallarholmen, she stubbornly maintained that it was Nieminen who had accidentally shot “Magge” Lundin in the foot at the instant that she nailed him with the taser. Where had she got the taser? She had confiscated it from Lundin, she explained.

  Bublanski and Modig were both sceptical, but there was no evidence and no witnesses to contradict her story. Nieminen was no doubt in a position to protest, but he refused to say anything about the incident; in fact he had no notion of what had happened in the seconds after he was stunned with the taser.

  As far as Salander’s journey to Gosseberga was concerned, she claimed that her only objective had been to convince her father to turn himself in to the police.

  Salander looked completely guileless; it was impossible to say whether she was telling the truth or not. Giannini had no reason to arrive at an opinion on the matter.

  The only person who knew for certain that Salander had gone to Gosseberga with the intention of terminating any relationship she had with her father once and for all was Blomkvist. But he had been sent out of the courtroom shortly after the proceedings were resumed. No-one knew that he and Salander had carried on long conversations online by night while she was confined to Sahlgrenska.

  The media missed altogether her release from custody. If the time of it had been known, a huge contingent would have descended on police headquarters. But many of the reporters were exhausted after the chaos and excitement that had ensued when Millennium reached the news-stands and certain members of the Security Police were arrested by other Security Police officers.