The Girl Who Takes an Eye for an Eye: Continuing Stieg Larsson's Millennium Series

by David Lagercrantz

  “Trust me,” she said.

  She claimed to have called ahead to warn specialists, who were preparing to receive Leo. Maybe Dan knew it was all nonsense. Maybe he was too shocked to absorb what was happening. It was hard to remember anything at all. He focused solely on keeping Leo’s breathing going, and nobody stopped him. That was something to be grateful for. Greitz drove fast. There was not much traffic and they came up onto Solnabron. The red hospital buildings seemed to rise like an apparition in the darkness, and for an instant he thought it might all be O.K., in the end.

  But it was no more than a smokescreen, an attempt to keep him quiet for a while. Instead of stopping, the car accelerated past the hospital, driving northwards towards Solna. He must have been shouting and lashing out because there was a sudden burning sensation in his thigh and he felt his protests grow weaker, less forceful. The rage and desperation did not leave him, but he felt his strength ebbing away. He shook his head and blinked. He strove to think clearly, to keep Leo alive. But he was struggling for words and finding it hard to move, and far away, as if through a fog, he could hear Greitz and the man whispering to each other. He lost track of time. At some point Greitz raised her voice. She was speaking to him now, and there was something hypnotic about her tone. What was she saying? She talked about everything he would get – about dreams fulfilled, about wealth, happiness.

  With Leo gasping for breath beside him, the massive figure of Benjamin on the other side, Greitz sitting in the front talking about happiness and riches, it was … it was impossible to describe. It was beyond words.

  Blomkvist might not ever be able to grasp it. But Dan had to try. There was no other way.

  “Were you tempted?” Blomkvist asked.

  The wine bottle was standing on the white coffee table and Dan felt an impulse to smash it over the journalist’s head.

  “You’ve got to understand,” he said, trying hard to sound calm. “At that moment I couldn’t imagine my life without Leo.”

  He was quiet again.

  “What was going through your mind?”

  “Only one thing: how we would make it through this.”

  “And what was your plan?”

  “My plan? I don’t know. I guess I thought I’d play along and hope a way out would present itself. As we drove further and further into the countryside, I managed to regain some of my strength. I was looking at Leo the whole time. He got worse. He began to cramp again, he couldn’t move. Sorry, it’s hard for me to talk about it.”

  “Take your time.”

  Dan reached for his wine glass and went on:

  “I had no idea where we were. The road was getting narrower. We were in a pine forest. Darkness had fallen and the snow had turned to rain. I saw a signpost. Vidåkra, it said. We headed in to the right, onto a forest track, and after ten minutes Rakel stopped the car and Benjamin got out. He took something out of the trunk, there was an unpleasant rattling noise. I didn’t want to know what it was. I was busy looking after Leo. I opened the door, laid him across the seat and started C.P.R. I had only a vague idea of what I was doing, but I tried. I’ve never tried so hard at anything in my whole life. I was dizzy and Leo had vomited without my even noticing it. There was a foul smell in the car. I felt like I was leaning over myself, can you understand that? As if I was giving breath to my own dying self. And the strange thing is that they let me keep at it. They were gentle with me now, Rakel and this guy Benjamin. It was odd, and I didn’t really understand what was going on. Rakel said in a soft voice that Leo was going to die, soon the effect of the physostigmine would leave him, nothing could be done. It was horrible, she said. But the good thing was that nobody would be looking for him. No-one would even wonder where he went – as long as I took his place. His mother was dying, she said, and I could resign from Alfred Ögren and sell my interest in the company to Ivar. No-one would be surprised. They had all known for ages that Leo’s dream was to leave the company. It was as if the scene was set for divine justice, I would get what I had always deserved. I humoured them. I saw no alternative. I mumbled, I hemmed and hawed. They’d taken my phone, I think I told you, and I was miles away in a forest and I couldn’t see lights from a single house.

  “Benjamin came back looking like a complete mess, soaked through with sweat and rain, muddy snow on his trousers. His woollen hat was askew. He didn’t say a word. A nasty, unspoken complicity hung in the air, as Benjamin dragged Leo out of the back seat. Leo’s head hit the ground and I bent down to help. I pulled off Benjamin’s hat, I remember, and put it on Leo. Then I buttoned up his coat. We hadn’t even dressed him warmly: he had no scarf and he was wearing his indoor shoes, and they were untied, laces dangling. It was a scene from hell, and I wondered if I should run off to get help. Just take off into the forest or along the track and hope to find somebody. But was there time for that? I didn’t think so. I wasn’t even sure Leo was still alive. So I followed them into the trees. Benjamin was dragging Leo along clumsily and I offered to help. Benjamin didn’t like that, he wanted to get me away from there. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Get away from here, this isn’t anything for you,’ and he yelled for Rakel. But I don’t think she heard. The wind was blowing hard, rustling the trees. We were being scratched by bushes and branches and then we arrived at a large diseased-looking pine, next to which was a pile of stones and earth. There was a shovel lying nearby and for a moment I thought, or wanted to believe, that we had stumbled on some sort of excavation which had nothing to do with us.”

  “But it was a grave.”

  “It was an attempt at a grave. Not a very deep one. Benjamin must have had a hell of a time digging into that frozen earth. He looked exhausted as he put Leo on the ground and shouted at me to go away. I told him that I had to say goodbye, that he was a heartless bastard. He threatened me again, saying that Greitz had enough evidence to have me put away for murder. ‘He’s my twin brother, for Christ’s sake. Show a little consideration, leave me in peace. I’ll bury him myself. I won’t run away, and Leo’s dead anyway. Look at him,’ I yelled. ‘Look at him!’ And then he really did leave me. I suspected that he hadn’t gone far, but he did walk out of sight, and I was alone with Leo. I crouched on my heels under the pine tree and leaned over him,” Dan said.

  Giannini had eaten her lunch in the staff canteen at Flodberga and was back in the visitors’ section in H Block, to take part in the continuation of Faria’s questioning, which Modig was leading.

  In the afternoon session, Modig had proved capable and efficient. She agreed with Giannini that it was important not only to establish the facts of the long-standing oppression Faria had suffered, but also to do what they could after all this time to investigate whether her attack on her brother might rather be a case of assault and manslaughter than of murder. Had she really intended to kill him?

  Giannini was optimistic. She had got Faria to summon up every possible aspect of her frame of mind at the time of the attack. But then Modig got a call, which she had taken in the corridor. When she returned she was no longer her cool and collected self. This shift of mood vexed Giannini.

  “For God’s sake, don’t try that poker face on me. I can tell that something serious has happened. Spit it out. Now!”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you,” Modig said. “Bashir Kazi and Benito have abducted Lisbeth. We have the whole team working on it, but it’s not looking good.”

  “Tell me everything,” Giannini said.

  Modig told her, and Giannini shuddered. Faria shrank back into her chair, her arms folded around her legs. But then something shifted in her. Giannini was the first to notice it. Faria’s eyes were not only filled with fear and rage. There was something else there, deep and intense:

  “Did you say Vadabosjö?”

  “Yes, the last sighting of them is from a surveillance camera, the van swung onto a forest track heading towards the area around the lake,” Modig said.

  “We …”

  “Yes, what
is it?” Giannini said.

  “Before we could afford to go to Mallorca, my family used to camp at Vadabosjö,” Faria said. “We went often. It’s not far, so we could decide at the last moment to go there for the weekend. That was when our mother was still alive. Vadabosjö is surrounded by thick forest, you know, and it’s full of narrow paths and hiding places. There was one time …” Faria hesitated, holding on to her knees. “Have you got a signal on your phone? If you can pull up a detailed map of the area, I’ll try to explain.”

  Modig searched and muttered and searched again, and eventually she brightened. The Uppsala police had downloaded a map for them.

  “Show me,” Faria said, a new tone to her voice.

  “They drove in here,” Modig said, showing her the map on her screen.

  “Wait just a moment,” Faria said. “Let me try to get my bearings. There’s something called Söderviken somewhere around the lake, isn’t there? Or Södra viken, Södra stranden?”

  “Let me take a look.”

  Modig keyed “Södra” into the search engine.

  “Could it be Södra Strandviken?” she said.

  “That’s it, yes, that must be it,” Faria said eagerly. “Let me see now. There’s a small bumpy track, but still wide enough for a car. Could that be it?” she said, zooming in. “I’m not sure. But at the time there was a yellow sign where you drove in. ‘End of public road’, it said. A little way down the track, a couple of kilometres along, there’s a sort of cave, not a real cave, more like a sheltered space in the midst of a large clump of trees with thick foliage. It’s at the top of a hill on the left, and you have to pass through a whole curtain of leaves but then come out in a completely secluded spot, surrounded by bushes and trees. You can see a ravine and a brook through a gap in the vegetation. Bashir took me there once, and I thought he wanted to show me something exciting, but it was to frighten me. It was when my body was starting to fill out a bit and some guys on the beach had whistled at me. When we arrived, he told me a whole load of rubbish about how in the old days they used to take women there who had behaved like whores, to punish them. He scared me out of my wits, and that’s why I remember it. Now I’m wondering if Bashir took Lisbeth to that place.”

  Modig nodded gravely and thanked her. She took back her mobile and made a call.

  Bublanski was getting reports from Sami Hamid, one of the police helicopter pilots. Hamid was circling Vadabosjö and the surrounding woodland at low altitude, but had seen no sign of a grey van. Nor had the walkers, the campers, or any of the policemen patrolling the area. It wasn’t easy, admittedly. The lake was bordered by wide-open beaches, but the surrounding forest was dense and a jumble of labyrinthine paths criss-crossed the terrain. It seemed an ideal place to hide, and that worried Bublanski. He had not cursed so much in a long time, and he kept urging Flod to drive faster.

  They were thundering along National Highway 77 and still had some way to go before they reached the lake. Thanks to voice identification they knew it was Benito and Bashir Kazi whom they were pursuing, which meant the threat to Salander was critical. Bublanski did not waste a second. He was onto the co-ordinators at Uppsala police every few minutes and rang every conceivable person he could think of who might provide information. He rang Blomkvist several times, but the journalist had switched off his mobile.

  Bublanski swore and prayed by turns. Although he and Salander were hardly on friendly terms, he felt a fatherly affection for her, not least because she had given them the means to solve a serious crime. He asked Flod to pick up the pace. They were getting closer to the woods around the lake. His mobile rang. It was Modig, telling him to key “Södra Strandviken” into the car’s G.P.S., and then she passed her mobile to Faria Kazi. He couldn’t understand why he should be talking to her, but in fact the woman sounded quite different, she spoke with a fierce determination and with perfect clarity. Bublanski listened carefully and intently and hoped it would not be too late.

  Just up ahead, they saw a yellow sign that marked a turn-off into the forest.

  CHAPTER 22

  22.vi

  Salander had no idea where she was. It was hot and she could hear flies and mosquitoes, wind rustling in the trees and bushes outside, and water babbling softly. She focused on her legs. They were skinny and did not look like much, but they were strong, and right now they were the only thing she had to defend herself with. She was kneeling in the van, her hands tied. Benito was grimacing in her bandages, the dagger and the cloth shaking in her hands. She really did look like death. Salander glanced at the door of the van. The men held her down by the shoulders and shouted at her. She looked up to see Bashir’s face shining with sweat – he glared as if he wanted to punch her.

  Salander asked herself if she might be able to play them off against each other. Time was running out. Benito was standing in front of her now, an evil queen with her long dagger, and the mood inside the van was changing. It became solemn and still, as if something momentous were about to happen. One of the men ripped Salander’s T-shirt to expose her collarbone. She looked at Benito. Her red lipstick cut a slash across her ash-grey skin. But she seemed to be steadier on her feet now, as if the horror of the moment had sharpened her senses. In a voice which fell one octave, she said:

  “Hold her still! Good, good. This is immense. This is the moment of her death. Can you feel my Keris pointed at you? You’re going to suffer now. You’re going to die.”

  Benito peered into Salander’s face and smiled with eyes which were beyond all mercy and humanity. For a second or so all Salander could see was the blade of the dagger held out towards her exposed chest. A split second later a flood of impressions washed over her. She saw Benito had three safety pins in her bandage, she saw that her right pupil was larger than the left, and she saw there was a sign from Bagarmossen animal hospital just inside the van door. She saw three yellow paperclips and a dog leash on the floor and a line drawn with blue felt-tip on the inside of the van above her. But most of all she saw the red-velvet cloth. Benito was not comfortable holding it. However self-confident she might be with the dagger, the cloth was a foreign object, nothing more than ritual mumbo-jumbo. She did not seem to know what to do with it, and suddenly she threw it onto the floor.

  Salander braced herself with her toes. Bashir yelled at her to stay still, and she heard nervousness in his voice. She saw Benito blink and the dagger being raised and home in on the point just below her collarbone. She prepared herself by stiffening the muscles in her body and wondered if survival was even possible. She was on her knees, her hands bound, and the men were holding her tight. She closed her eyes and pretended to have resigned herself to her fate while she listened to the silence and the breathing in the back of the van. She felt excitement in the air, the thirst for blood, and also fear – a kind of pleasure mixed with terror. Even in this company an execution was a serious undertaking, and … What was that?

  It was far away and hard to make out, but it sounded like engine noise, not from a single car but from several.

  At that very moment Benito made her move and then it was time, it was high time. Salander flew up in an explosion and fought to find her feet, but she did not escape the dagger.

  Flod braked so sharply that the car skidded and she looked angrily at Bublanski as if it were his fault. The chief inspector was oblivious, he was on the line to Faria and called out:

  “We’ve found the sign, I see it.” He cursed under his breath as the car swerved and shook. The yellow sign did indeed say END OF PUBLIC ROAD.

  Flod controlled the skid and turned into the track, a swamp of mud with deep ruts. The rain, which had fallen relentlessly before the heatwave took the country in its grip, had made it almost impassable, and the car slipped and bumped.

  “Slow down, for God’s sake, we can’t afford to miss it!” Bublanski yelled.

  According to Faria, the place was at the top of a rise hidden behind a kind of screen of branches and foliage. Bublanski could see no sign of any
rising ground. Looking at the density of the trees all around he did not think they had much of a chance of finding the van. It could be hidden anywhere in this forest, it might even be on its way to some different place. He tried to calculate the length of time that had passed since the van was last sighted. And above all: how could the girl be so sure where the clearing was? How could she remember so many details, or have the least clear idea of distances after so many years?

  The forest looked the same to him on all sides, nowhere were there any distinguishing features. He was about to give up. The trees were closing in overhead so that it was practically dark. Uppsala sent word that other police vehicles were on the track behind them. That would be helpful, if indeed they were on the right track. He felt sure the forest would be able to camouflage an entire fleet of vans or trucks. But he did not see how they would be able to find anything in this impenetrable jungle. He racked his brains as Flod negotiated the mudbath. Then, over there … it was not a hill exactly, but still a definite slope. Flod accelerated gently, the wheels spun, and the car approached the top of the rise. Bublanski continued to describe what he was seeing. There was a large, globe-shaped stone by the side of the track, which Faria might remember. But she did not. Damn it! They were getting nowhere.

  And then he heard a bang, something striking tin or sheet metal and he heard shouting, agitated voices. He put his hand on Flod’s arm and she hit the brakes. He drew his service revolver and jumped out, flinging himself into the forest, under branches and through bushes, and in a dizzying instant he realized that they really had found the place.

  December, a year and a half earlier

  Dan Brody was kneeling in the wet snow in another forest at another time of year, under that pine tree not far from Vidåkra village, staring down at Leo as his face turned blue, the life draining out of his blue eyes. It was a moment of pure horror. But it cannot have lasted long.