The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo Trilogy Bundle

by Stieg Larsson

  They man the place at night for security reasons. Of course. And Sandberg sleeps over after the night shift.

  Sandberg had on only his underpants and seemed to be dazed with sleep. He reached for his service weapon on the bedside table, but Figuerola bent over and swept the weapon away from him onto the floor.

  “Jonas Sandberg, you are under arrest as a suspect and accessory to the murders of Gunnar Björck and Alexander Zalachenko, and as an accomplice in the attempted murders of Mikael Blomkvist and Erika Berger. Now get your trousers on.”

  Sandberg threw a punch at Figuerola. She blocked it instinctively.

  “You must be joking,” she said. She took hold of his arm and twisted his wrist so hard that he was forced backwards to the floor. She flipped him over onto his stomach and put her knee in the small of his back. She handcuffed him herself. It was the first time she had used handcuffs on an assignment since she began at SIS.

  She handed Sandberg over to one of the backup team and continued her passage through the apartment until she opened the last door, at the very back. According to the blueprints, this was a small cubbyhole looking out onto the courtyard. She stopped in the doorway and looked at the most emaciated figure she had ever seen. She did not for one second doubt that here was a person who was mortally ill.

  “Fredrik Clinton, you are under arrest as an accomplice to murder, for attempted murder, and for a long list of further crimes,” she said. “Stay where you are in bed. We’ve called an ambulance to take you to Kungsholmen.”

  • • •

  Malm was stationed immediately outside the building on Artillerigatan. Unlike Cortez, he knew how to handle his digital Nikon. He used a short telephoto lens, and the pictures he took were of excellent quality.

  They showed the members of the Section, one by one, being led out through the front door and down to the police cars. And finally the ambulance that arrived to pick up Clinton. His eyes were fixed on the lens as the shutter clicked. Clinton looked nervous and confused.

  The photograph later won the Picture of the Year award.

  CHAPTER 27

  Friday, July 15

  Judge Iversen banged his gavel at 12:30 and decreed that district court proceedings were thereby resumed. He noticed that a third person had appeared at Advokat Giannini’s table. It was Holger Palmgren, in a wheelchair.

  “Hello, Holger,” Judge Iversen said. “I haven’t seen you in a courtroom in quite a while.”

  “Good day to you, Judge Iversen. Some cases are so complicated that these younger lawyers need a little assistance.”

  “I thought you had retired.”

  “I’ve been ill. But Advokat Giannini engaged me as assistant counsel in this case.”

  “I see.”

  Giannini cleared her throat.

  “It is germane to the case that Advokat Palmgren was until his illness Lisbeth Salander’s guardian.”

  “I have no intention of commenting on that matter,” Judge Iversen said.

  He nodded to Giannini to begin, and she stood up. She had always disliked the Swedish tradition of carrying on court proceedings informally while sitting around a table, almost as though the occasion were a dinner party. She felt better when she could speak standing up.

  “I think we should begin with the concluding comments from this morning. Dr. Teleborian, what leads you so consistently to dismiss as untrue everything that Lisbeth Salander says?”

  “Because her statements so obviously are untrue,” replied Teleborian.

  He was relaxed. Giannini turned to the judge.

  “Judge Iversen, Dr. Teleborian claims that Lisbeth Salander tells lies and that she fantasizes. The defence will now demonstrate that every word in her autobiography is true. We will present copious documentation, both visual and written, as well as the testimony of witnesses. We have now reached the point in this trial when the prosecutor has presented the principal elements of his case. We have listened, and we now know the exact nature of the accusations against Lisbeth Salander.”

  Giannini’s mouth was suddenly dry, and she felt her hands shake. She took a deep breath and sipped her mineral water. Then she placed her hands in a firm grip on the back of the chair so that they would not betray her nervousness.

  “From the prosecutor’s presentation we may conclude that he has a great many opinions but a woeful shortage of evidence. He believes that Lisbeth Salander shot Carl-Magnus Lundin in Stallarholmen. He claims that she went to Gosseberga to kill her father. He assumes that my client is a paranoid schizophrenic and mentally ill in every sense. And he bases this assumption on information from a single source: to wit, Dr. Peter Teleborian.”

  She paused to catch her breath and forced herself to speak slowly.

  “As it now stands, the case presented by the prosecutor rests on the testimony of Dr. Teleborian. If he is right, then my client would be best served by receiving the expert psychiatric care that both he and the prosecutor are seeking.”

  Pause.

  “But if Dr. Teleborian is wrong, this prosecution case must be seen in a different light. Furthermore, if he is lying, then my client is now, here in this courtroom, being subjected to a violation of her civil rights, a violation that has gone on for many years.”

  She turned to face Ekström.

  “What we shall do this afternoon is to show that your witness is a false witness, and that you as prosecutor have been deceived into accepting these false testimonies.”

  Teleborian flashed a smile. He held out his hands and nodded to Giannini, as if applauding her presentation. Giannini now turned to the judge.

  “Your honour. I will show that Dr. Teleborian’s so-called forensic psychiatric investigation is nothing but a deception from start to finish. I will show that he is lying about Lisbeth Salander. I will show that my client has in the past been subjected to a gross violation of her rights. And I will show that she is just as sane and intelligent as anyone in this room.”

  “Excuse me, but—” Ekström began.

  “Just a moment.” She raised a finger. “I have for two days allowed you to talk uninterrupted. Now it’s my turn.”

  She turned back to Judge Iversen.

  “I would not make so serious an accusation before the court if I did not have ample evidence to support it.”

  “By all means, continue,” the judge said. “But I don’t want to hear any long-winded conspiracy theories. Bear in mind that you can be charged with slander for false statements that are made before a court.”

  “Thank you. I will bear that in mind.”

  She turned to Teleborian. He still seemed entertained by the situation.

  “The defence has repeatedly asked to be allowed to examine Lisbeth Salander’s medical records from the time when she, in her early teens, was committed to your care at St. Stefan’s. Why have we not been shown those records?”

  “Because a district court decreed that they were classified. That decision was made out of solicitude for Lisbeth Salander, but if a higher court were to rescind that decision, I would naturally hand them over.”

  “Thank you. For how many nights during the two years that Lisbeth Salander spent at St. Stefan’s was she kept in restraints?”

  “I couldn’t recall that offhand.”

  “She herself claims that it was 380 out of the total of 786 days and nights she spent at St. Stefan’s.”

  “I can’t possibly answer as to the exact number of days, but that is a fantastic exaggeration. Where do those figures come from?”

  “From her autobiography.”

  “And you believe that today she is able to remember accurately each night she was kept in restraints? That’s preposterous.”

  “Is it? How many nights do you recall?”

  “Lisbeth Salander was an extremely aggressive and violence-prone patient, and undoubtedly she was placed in a stimulus-free room on a number of occasions. Perhaps I should explain the purpose of a stimulus-free room—”

  “Thank you, that
won’t be necessary. According to theory, it is a room in which a patient is denied any sensory input that might provoke agitation. For how many days and nights did thirteen-year-old Lisbeth Salander lie strapped down in such a room?”

  “It would be … I would estimate perhaps on 30 occasions during the time she was at the hospital.”

  “Thirty. Now that’s only a fraction of the 380 that she claims.”

  “Undeniably.”

  “Not even 10 percent of her figure.”

  “Yes …”

  “Would her medical records perhaps give us more accurate information?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Excellent,” Giannini said, taking out a large sheaf of paper from her briefcase. “Then I ask to be allowed to hand over to the court a copy of Lisbeth Salander’s medical records from St. Stefan’s. I have counted the number of notes about the restraining straps and find that the figure is 381, one more than my client claims.”

  Teleborian’s eyes widened.

  “Stop … this is classified information. Where did you get that from?”

  “I got it from a reporter at Millennium magazine. It can hardly be classified if it’s lying around a newspaper’s offices. Perhaps I should add that extracts from these medical records were published today in Millennium. I believe, therefore, that even this district court should have the opportunity to look at the records themselves.”

  “This is illegal—”

  “No, it isn’t. Lisbeth Salander has given her permission for the extracts to be published. My client has nothing to hide.”

  “Your client has been declared incompetent and has no right to make any such decision for herself.”

  “We’ll come back to the declaration of incompetence. But first we need to examine what happened to her at St. Stefan’s.”

  Judge Iversen frowned as he accepted the papers that Giannini handed to him.

  “I haven’t made a copy for the prosecutor; he received a copy of this privacy-invading document more than a month ago.”

  “How did that happen?” the judge said.

  “Prosecutor Ekström got a copy of these classified records from Teleborian at a meeting which took place in his office at 5:00 p.m. on Saturday, June 4, this year.”

  “Is that correct?” Judge Iversen said.

  Ekström’s first impulse was to deny it. Then he realized that Giannini might somehow have evidence.

  “I requested permission to read parts of the records if I signed a confidentiality agreement,” Ekström said. “I had to make sure that Salander had the history she was alleged to have.”

  “Thank you,” Giannini said. “This means that we now have confirmation that Dr. Teleborian not only tells lies but also broke the law by disseminating records that he himself claims are classified.”

  “Duly noted,” said the judge.

  • • •

  Judge Iversen was suddenly very alert. In a most unorthodox way, Giannini had launched a serious attack on a witness, and she had already made mincemeat of an important part of his testimony. And she claims that she can document everything she says. Judge Iversen adjusted his glasses.

  “Dr. Teleborian, based on these records which you yourself wrote, could you now tell me how many days Lisbeth Salander was kept in restraints?”

  “I have no recollection that it could have been so extensive, but if that’s what the records say, then I have to believe it.”

  “A total of 381 days and nights. Does that not strike you as excessive?”

  “It is unusual, yes.”

  “How would you perceive it if you were thirteen years old and someone strapped you to a steel-framed bed for more than a year? Would it feel like torture?”

  “You have to understand that the patient was dangerous to herself as well as to others—”

  “OK. Let’s look at whether she was dangerous to herself. Has Lisbeth Salander ever injured herself?”

  “There were such misgivings—”

  “I’ll repeat the question: has Lisbeth Salander ever injured herself? Yes or no?”

  “As psychiatrists we must teach ourselves to interpret the overall picture. With regard to Lisbeth Salander, you can see on her body, for example, a multitude of tattoos and piercings, which are a form of self-destructive behaviour and a way of damaging one’s own body. We can interpret that as a manifestation of self-hate.”

  Giannini turned to Salander.

  “Are your tattoos a manifestation of self-hate?” she said.

  “No,” Salander said.

  Giannini turned back to Teleborian. “So you believe that I am also dangerous to myself because I wear earrings and actually have a tattoo in a private place?”

  Palmgren snickered, but he managed to transform the snicker into a clearing of his throat.

  “No, not at all … tattoos can also be part of a social ritual.”

  “Are you saying that Lisbeth Salander is not part of this social ritual?”

  “You can see for yourself that her tattoos are grotesque and extend over large parts of her body. That is no normal measure of fetishism or body decoration.”

  “What percentage?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “At what percentage of tattooed body surface does it stop being fetishism and become a mental illness?”

  “You’re distorting my words.”

  “Am I? How is it that, in your opinion, it is part of a wholly acceptable social ritual when it applies to me or to other young people, but it becomes dangerous when it’s a matter of evaluating my client’s mental state?”

  “As a psychiatrist I have to look at the whole picture. The tattoos are merely an indicator. As I have already said, it is one of many indicators which need to be taken into account when I evaluate her condition.”

  Giannini was silent for a few seconds as she fixed Teleborian with her gaze. She now spoke very slowly.

  “But Dr. Teleborian, you began strapping down my client when she was twelve years old, going on thirteen. At that time she did not have a single tattoo, did she?”

  Teleborian hesitated, and Giannini went on.

  “I presume that you did not strap her down because you predicted that she would begin tattooing herself sometime in the future.”

  “Of course not. Her tattoos had nothing to do with her condition in 1991.”

  “With that we are back to my original question. Did Lisbeth Salander ever injure herself in a way that would justify keeping her bound to a bed for a whole year? For example, did she cut herself with a knife or a razor blade or anything like that?”

  Teleborian looked unsure for a second.

  “No … I used the tattoos as an example of self-destructive behaviour.”

  “And we have just agreed that tattoos are a legitimate part of a social ritual. I asked why you restrained her for a year, and you replied that it was because she was a danger to herself.”

  “We had reason to believe that she was a danger to herself.”

  “ ‘Reason to believe.’ So you’re saying that you restrained her because you guessed something?”

  “We carried out assessments.”

  “I have now been asking the same question for about five minutes. You claim that my client’s self-destructive behaviour was one reason why she was strapped down for a total of more than a year out of the two years she was in your care. Can you please finally give me some examples of the self-destructive behaviour she evidenced at the age of twelve?”

  “The girl was extremely undernourished, for example. This was partially due to the fact that she refused food. We suspected anorexia.”

  “I see. Was she anorexic? As you can see, my client is even today uncommonly thin and fine-boned.”

  “Well, it’s difficult to answer that question. I would have to observe her eating habits for quite a long time.”

  “You did observe her eating habits—for two years. And now you’re suggesting that you confused anorexia with the fact that my client is small
and thin. You say that she refused food.”

  “We were compelled to force-feed her on several occasions.”

  “And why was that?”

  “Because she refused to eat, of course.”

  Giannini turned to her client.

  “Lisbeth, is it true that you refused to eat at St. Stefan’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why was that?”

  “Because that bastard was mixing psychotropic drugs into my food.”

  “I see. So Dr. Teleborian wanted to give you medicine. Why didn’t you want to take it?”

  “I didn’t like the medicine I was being given. It made me sluggish. I couldn’t think, and I was sedated for most of the time I was awake. And the bastard refused to tell me what the drugs contained.”

  “So you refused to take the medicine?”

  “Yes. Then he began putting the crap in my food instead. So I stopped eating. Every time something had been put in my food, I stopped eating for five days.”

  “So you had to go hungry.”

  “Not always. Several of the attendants smuggled sandwiches in to me on various occasions. One in particular gave me food late at night. That happened quite often.”

  “So you think that the nursing staff at St. Stefan’s saw that you were hungry and gave you food so that you would not have to starve?”

  “That was during the period when I was battling with this bastard over psychotropic drugs.”

  “Tell us what happened.”

  “He tried to drug me. I refused to take his medicine. He started putting it in my food. I refused to eat. He started force-feeding me. I began vomiting up the food.”

  “So there was a completely rational reason why you refused the food.”

  “Yes.”

  “It was not because you didn’t want food?”

  “No. I was often hungry.”

  “And since you left St. Stefan’s, do you eat regularly?”

  “I eat when I’m hungry.”

  “Would it be correct to say that a conflict arose between you and Dr. Teleborian?”