CHAPTER 19
Thursday, June 19–Sunday, June 29
While he waited for word on whether Vanger was going to pull through or not, Blomkvist spent the days going over his
materials. He kept in close touch with Frode. On Thursday evening Frode brought him the news that the immediate crisis
seemed to be over.
"I was able to talk to him for a while today. He wants to see you as soon as possible."
So it was that, around 1:00 on the afternoon of Midsummer Eve, Blomkvist drove to Hedestad Hospital and went in search
of the ward. He encountered an angry Birger Vanger, who blocked his way. Henrik could not possibly receive visitors, he
said.
"That‘s odd," Blomkvist said, ?Henrik sent word saying that he expressly wanted to see me today."
"'You‘re not a member of the family; you have no business here."
"You‘re right. I‘m not a member of the family. But I‘m working for Henrik Vanger, and I take orders only from him."
This might have led to a heated exchange if Frode had not at that moment come out of Vanger‘s room.
"Oh, there you are. Henrik has been asking after you."
Frode held open the door and Blomkvist walked past Birger into the room.
Vanger looked to have aged ten years. He was lying with his eyes half closed, an oxygen tube in his nose, and his hair more
dishevelled than ever. A nurse stopped Blomkvist, putting a hand firmly on his arm.
"Two minutes. No more. And don‘t upset him." Blomkvist sat on a visitor‘s chair so that he could see Vanger‘s face. He felt
a tenderness that astonished him, and he stretched out his hand to gently squeeze the old man‘s hand.
"Any news?" The voice was weak.
Blomkvist nodded.
"I‘ll give you a report as soon as you‘re better. I haven‘t solved the mystery yet, but I‘ve found more new stuff and I‘m
following up a number of leads. In a week, perhaps two, I‘ll be able to tell the results."
The most Vanger could manage was to blink, indicating that he understood.
"I have to be away for a few days."
Henrik raised his eyebrows.
"I‘m not jumping ship. I have some research to do. I‘ve reached an agreement with Dirch that I should report to him. Is that
OK with you?"
"Dirch is…my man…in all matters."
Blomkvist squeezed Vanger‘s hand again.
"Mikael…if I don‘t…I want you to…finish the job."
"I will finish the job."
"Dirch has…full…"
"Henrik, I want you to get better. I‘d be furious with you if you went and died after I‘ve made such progress."
"Two minutes," the nurse said.
"Next time we‘ll have a long talk."
Birger Vanger was waiting for him when he came out. He stopped him by laying a hand on his shoulder.
"I don‘t want you bothering Henrik any more. He‘s very ill, and he‘s not supposed to be upset or disturbed."
"I understand your concern, and I sympathise. And I‘m not going to upset him.?
"Everyone knows that Henrik hired you to poke around in his little hobby…Harriet. Dirch said that Henrik became very
upset after a conversation you had with him before he had the heart attack. He even said that you thought you had caused the
attack."
"I don‘t think so any more. Henrik had severe blockages in his arteries. He could have had a heart attack just by having a
pee. I‘m sure you know that by now."
"I want full disclosure into this lunacy. This is my family you‘re mucking around in."
"I told you, I work for Henrik, not for the family."
Birger Vanger was apparently not used to having anyone stand up to him. For a moment he stared at Blomkvist with an
expression that was presumably meant to instil respect, but which made him look more like an inflated moose. Birger turned
and went into Vanger‘s room.
Blomkvist restrained the urge to laugh. This was no place for laughter, in the corridor outside Vanger‘s sickbed, which might
also turn out to be his deathbed. But he thought of a verse from Lennart Hyland‘s rhyming alphabet. It was the letter M. And
all alone the moose he stood, laughing in a shot-up wood.
In the hospital lobby he ran into Cecilia Vanger. He had tried calling her mobile a dozen times since she came back from her
interrupted holiday, but she had never answered or returned his calls. And she was never home at her place on Hedeby Island
whenever he walked past and knocked on the door.
"Hi, Cecilia," he said. "I‘m so sorry about all this with Henrik."
"Thanks," she said.
"We need to talk."
"I‘m sorry that I‘ve shut you out like this. I can understand that you must be cross, but I‘m not having an easy time of it
these days."
Mikael put his hand on her arm and smiled at her.
"Wait, you‘ve got it wrong, Cecilia. I‘m not cross at all. I am still hoping that we can be friends. Can we have a cup of
coffee?" He nodded in the direction of the hospital cafeteria.
Cecilia Vanger hesitated. "Not today. I need to go and see Henrik."
"OK, but I still need to talk to you. It‘s purely professional."
"What does that mean?" She was suddenly alert.
"Do you remember the first time we met, when you came to the cottage in January? I said that we were talking off the
record, and that if I needed to ask you any real questions, I would tell you. It has to do with Harriet."
Cecilia Vanger‘s face was suddenly flushed with anger.
"You really are the fucking pits."
"Cecilia, I‘ve found some things that I really do have to talk to you about."
She took a step away from him.
"Don‘t you realise that this bloody hunt for that cursed Harriet is just occupational therapy for Henrik? Don‘t you see that he
might be up there dying, and that the very last thing he needs is to get upset again and be filled with false hopes and…?
"It may be a hobby for Henrik, but there is now more material to go on than anyone has had to work with in a very long
time. There are questions that do now need to be answered."
"If Henrik dies, that investigation is going to be over awfully damned fast. Then you‘ll be out on your grubby, snivelling
investigative backside," Cecilia said, and she walked away.
Everything was closed. Hedestad was practically deserted, and the inhabitants seemed to have retreated to their Midsummer
poles at their summer cottages. Blomkvist made for the Stadshotel terrace, which was actually open, and there he was able to
order coffee and a sandwich and read the evening papers. Nothing of importance was happening in the world.
He put the paper down and thought about Cecilia Vanger. He had told no-one—apart from the Salander girl—that she was
the one who had opened the window in Harriet‘s room. He was afraid that it would make her a suspect, and the last thing he
wanted to do was hurt her. But the question was going to have to be asked, sooner or later.
He sat on the terrace for an hour before he decided to set the whole problem aside and devote Midsummer Eve to something
other than the Vanger family. His mobile was silent. Berger was away amusing herself somewhere with her husband, and he
had no-one to talk to.
He went back to Hedeby Island at around 4:00 in the afternoon and made another decision—to stop smoking. He had been
working out regularly ever since he did his military service, both at the gym and by running along Söder Mälarstrand, but
had fallen out of the habit when the problems with Wennerström began. It was at Rullåker Prison that he had starting
pumping iron again, mostly as therapy. But since his release he had taken almost no exercise. It was time to start again. He
put on his tracksuit and set off at a lazy pace along the road to Gottfried‘s cabin, turned off towards the Fortress, and took a
rougher course cross country. He had done no orienteering since he was in the military, but he had always thought it was
more fun to run through a wooded terrain than on a flat track. He followed the fence around Östergården back to the village.
He was aching all over and out of breath by the time he took the last steps up to the guest house.
At 6:00 he took a shower. He boiled some potatoes and had open sandwiches of pickled herring in mustard sauce with chives
and egg on a rickety table outside the cottage, facing the bridge. He poured himself a shot of aquavit and drank a toast to
himself. After that he opened a crime novel by Val McDermid entitled The Mermaids Singing.
At around 7:00 Frode drove up and sat heavily in the chair across from him. Blomkvist poured him a shot of Skåne aquavit.
"You stirred up some rather lively emotions today," Frode said.
"I could see that."
"Birger is a conceited fool."
"I know that."
"But Cecilia is not a conceited fool, and she‘s furious."
Mikael nodded.
"She has instructed me to see that you stop poking around in the family‘s affairs."
"I see. And what did you say to her?"
Frode looked at his glass of Skåne and downed the liquor in one gulp.
"My response was that Henrik has given me clear instructions about what he wants you to do. As long as he doesn‘t change
those instructions, you will continue to be employed under the terms of your contract. I expect you to do your best to fulfil
your part of the contract."
Blomkvist looked up at the sky, where rain clouds had begun to gather.
"Looks like a storm is brewing," Frode said. "If the winds get too strong, I‘ll have to back you up."
"Thank you."
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