CHAPTER 25
Wednesday, 13.vii –
Thursday, 14.vii
Blomkvist had always wondered why the loudspeakers in
the district court were so faint, discreet almost. He could
hardly make out the words of the announcement that the
trial vs Lisbeth Salander would begin in courtroom 5 at
10.00. But he had arrived in plenty of time and positioned
himself to wait right by the entrance to the courtroom. He
was one of the first to be let in. He chose a seat in the
public gallery on the left-hand side of the room, where he
would have the best view of the defence table. The seats
filled up fast. Media interest had steadily increased in the
filled up fast. Media interest had steadily increased in the
weeks leading up to the trial, and over the past week
Prosecutor Ekström had been interviewed daily.
Lisbeth Salander was charged with assault and grievous
bodily harm in the case of Carl-Magnus Lundin; with
unlawful threats, attempted murder and grievous bodily
harm in the case of Karl Axel Bodin, alias Alexander
Zalachenko, now deceased; with two counts of breaking
and entering – the first at the summer cabin of the
deceased lawyer Nils Erik Bjurman in Stallarholmen, the
second at Bjurman’s home on Odenplan; with the theft of a
vehicle – a Harley-Davidson owned by one Sonny
Nieminen of Svavelsjö M.C.; with three counts of
possession of illegal weapons – a canister of Mace, a taser
and a Polish P-83 Wanad, all found in Gosseberga; with
the theft of or withholding of evidence – the formulation
was imprecise but it referred to the documentation she had
found in Bjurman’s summer cabin; and with a number of
further misdemeanours. In all, sixteen charges had been
filed against Lisbeth Salander.
Ekström had been busy.
He had also leaked information indicating that Salander’s
mental state was cause for alarm. He cited first the forensic
psychiatric report by Dr Jesper H. Löderman that had been
compiled at the time of her eighteenth birthday, and
second, a report which, in accordance with a decision by
the district court at a preliminary hearing, had been written
by Dr Peter Teleborian. Since the mentally ill girl had, true
to form, refused categorically to speak to psychiatrists, the
analysis was made on the basis of “observations” carried
out while she was detained at Kronoberg prison in
Stockholm during the month before her trial. Teleborian,
who had many years of experience with the patient, had
determined that Salander was suffering from a serious
mental disturbance and employed words such as
psychopathy, pathological narcissism, paranoid
schizophrenia, and similar.
The press had also reported that seven police interviews
had been conducted with Salander. At each of these
interviews the defendant had declined even to say good
morning to those who were leading the interrogation. The
first few interviews had been conducted by the Göteborg
police, the remainder had taken place at police
headquarters in Stockholm. The tape recordings of the
interview protocol revealed that the police had used every
means of persuasion and repeated questioning, but had
not received the favour of a single reply.
She had not even bothered to clear her throat.
Occasionally Advokat Giannini’s voice could be heard on
the tapes, at such points as she realized that her client
evidently was not going to answer any questions. The
evidently was not going to answer any questions. The
charges against Salander were accordingly based
exclusively on forensic evidence and on whatever facts the
police investigation had been able to determine.
Salander’s silence had at times placed her defence lawyer
in an awkward position, since she was compelled to be
almost as silent as her client. What Giannini and Salander
discussed in private was confidential.
Ekström made no secret of the fact that his primary
objective was secure psychiatric care for the defendant; of
secondary interest to him was a substantial prison
sentence. The normal process was the reverse, but he
believed that in her case there were such transparent
mental disturbances and such an unequivocal forensic
psychiatric assessment that he was left with no alternative.
It was highly unusual for a court to decide against a
forensic psychiatric assessment.
He also believed that Salander’s declaration of
incompetence should be rescinded. In an interview he had
explained with a concerned expression that in Sweden
there were a number of sociopaths with such grave mental
disturbances that they presented a danger to themselves
as well as to others, and modern medicine could offer no
alternative to keeping these individuals safely locked up.
He cited the case of a violent girl, Anette, who in the ’70s
had been a frequent focus of attention in the media, and
had been a frequent focus of attention in the media, and
who thirty years on was still in a secure psychiatric
institution. Every endeavour to ease the restrictions had
resulted in her launching reckless and violent attacks on
relatives and carers, or in attempts to injure herself.
Ekström was of the view that Salander suffered from a
similar form of psychopathic disturbance.
Media interest had also increased for the simple reason
that Salander’s defence lawyer, Advokat Giannini, had
made not a single statement to the press. She had refused
all requests to be interviewed so that the media were, as
they many times put it, “unable to have an opportunity to
present the views of the other side of the case”. Journalists
were therefore in a difficult situation: the prosecution kept
on shovelling out information while the defence,
uncharacteristically, gave not the slightest hint of
Salander’s reaction to the charges against her, nor of what
strategy the defence might employ.
This state of affairs was commented on by the legal expert
engaged to follow the trial in one of the evening
newspapers. The expert had stated in his column that
Advokat Giannini was a respected women’s rights lawyer,
but that she had absolutely no experience in criminal law
outside this case. He concluded that she was unsuitable for
the purpose of defending Salander. From his sister
Blomkvist had also learned that several distinguished
lawyers had offered their services. Giannini had, on behalf
lawyers had offered their services. Giannini had, on behalf
of her client, courteously turned down every such proposal.
As he waited for the trial to begin, Blomkvist glanced
around at the other spectators. He caught sight of
Armansky sitting near the exit and their eyes met for a
moment.
Ekström had a large stack of papers on his table. He
greeted several journalists.
Giannini sat at her table opposite Ekström. She had her
head down and was sorting through her papers. Blomkvist
thought that his sister looked a bit tense. Stage fright, he
supposed.
Then the judge, assessor and lay assessors entered the
courtroom. Judge Jörgen Iversen was a white-haired, 57-year-old man with a gaunt face and a spring in his step.
Blomkvist had researched Iversen’s background and found
that he was an exacting judge of long experience who had
presided over many high-profile cases.
Finally Salander was brought into the courtroom.
Even though Blomkvist was used to Salander’s penchant
for shocking clothing, he was amazed that his sister had
allowed her to turn up to the courtroom in a black leather
miniskirt with frayed seams and a black top – with the
legend I am annoyed – which barely covered her many
legend I am annoyed – which barely covered her many
tattoos. She had ten piercings in her ears and rings
through her lower lip and left eyebrow. Her head was
covered in three months’ worth of uneven stubble after her
surgery. She wore grey lipstick and heavily darkened
eyebrows, and had applied more black mascara than
Blomkvist had ever seen her wear. In the days when he
and Salander had spent time together, she had shown
almost no interest in make-up.
She looked a bit vulgar, to put it mildly. It was almost a Goth
look. She reminded him of a vampire in some pop-art
movie from the ’60s. Blomkvist was aware of some of the
reporters in the press gallery catching their breath in
astonishment or smiling broadly. They were at last getting a
look at the scandal-ridden young woman they had written
so much about, and she was certainly living up to all their
expectations.
Then he realized that Salander was in costume. Usually her
style was sloppy and rather tasteless. Blomkvist had
assumed that she was not really interested in fashion, but
that she tried instead to accentuate her own individuality.
Salander always seemed to mark her private space as
hostile territory, and he had thought of the rivets in her
leather jacket as a defence mechanism, like the quills of a
hedgehog. To everyone around her it was as good a signal
as any: Don’t try to touch me – it will hurt.
But here in the district court she had exaggerated her style
to the point of parody.
It was no accident, it was part of Giannini’s strategy.
If Salander had come in with her hair smoothed down and
wearing a twin-set and pearls and sensible shoes, she
would have came across as a con artist trying to sell a
story to the court. It was a question of credibility. She had
come as herself and no-one else. Way over the top – for
clarity. She was not pretending to be someone she was
not. Her message to the court was that she had no reason
to be ashamed or to put on a show. If the court had a
problem with her appearance, it was no concern of hers.
The state had accused her of a multitude of things, and the
prosecutor had dragged her into court. With her very
appearance she had already indicated that she intended to
brush aside the prosecutor’s accusations as nonsense.
She moved with confidence and sat down next to her
lawyer. She surveyed the spectators. There was no
curiosity in her gaze. She seemed instead defiantly to be
observing and registering those who had already convicted
her in the press.
It was the first time Blomkvist had seen her since she lay
like a bloody rag doll on the bench in that kitchen in
Gosseberga, and a year and a half or more since he had
last seen her under normal circumstances. If the term
“normal circumstances” could ever be used in connection
with Salander. For a matter of seconds their eyes met. Hers
lingered on him, but she betrayed no sign of recognition.
Yet she did seem to study the bruises that covered
Blomkvist’s cheek and temple and the surgical tape over
his right eyebrow. Blomkvist thought he discerned the
merest hint of a smile in her eyes but could not be sure he
had not imagined it. Then Judge Iversen pounded his gavel
and called the court to order.
The spectators were allowed to be present in the
courtroom for all of thirty minutes. They listened to
Ekström’s introductory presentation of the case.
Every reporter except Blomkvist was busily taking notes
even though by now all of them knew the charges Ekström
intended to bring. Blomkvist had already written his story.
Ekström’s introductory remarks went on for twenty-two
minutes. Then it was Giannini’s turn. Her presentation took
thirty seconds. Her voice was firm.
“The defence rejects all the charges brought against her
except one. My client admits to possession of an illegal
weapon, that is, one spray canister of Mace. To all other
counts, my client pleads not guilty of criminal intent. We will
show that the prosecutor’s assertions are flawed and that
my client has been subjected to grievous encroachment of
my client has been subjected to grievous encroachment of
her civil rights. I will demand that my client be acquitted of
all charges, that her declaration of incompetence be
revoked, and that she be released.”
There was a murmuring from the press gallery. Advokat
Giannini’s strategy had at last been revealed. It was
obviously not what the reporters had been expecting. Most
had speculated that Giannini would in some way exploit her
client’s mental illness to her advantage. Blomkvist smiled.
“I see,” Judge Iversen said, making a swift note. He looked
at Giannini. “Are you finished?”
“That is my presentation.”
“Does the prosecutor have anything to add?” Judge
Iversen said.
It was at this point that Ekström requested a private
meeting in the judge’s chambers. There he argued that the
case hinged upon one vulnerable individual’s mental state
and welfare, and that it also involved matters which, if
explored before the public in court, could be detrimental to
national security.
“I assume that you are referring to what may be termed the
Zalachenko affair,” Judge Iversen said.
“That is correct. Alexander Zalachenko came to Sweden as
a political refugee and sought asylum from a terrible
dictatorship. There are elements in the handling of his
situation, personal connections and the like, that are still
classified, even though Herr Zalachenko is now deceased. I
therefore request that the deliberations be held behind
closed doors and that a rule of confidentiality be applied to
those sections of the deliberations that are particularly
sensitive.”
“I believe I understand your point,” Judge Iversen said,
knitting his brows.
“In addition, a large part of the deliberations will deal with
the defendant’s guardianship. This touches on matters
which in all normal cases become classified almost
automatically, and it is out of respect for the defendant that
I am requesting a closed court.”
“How does Advokat Giannini respond to the prosecutor’s
request?”
“For our part it makes no difference.”
Judge Iversen consulted his assessor and then
announced, to the annoyance of the reporters present,
that he had accepted the prosecutor’s request. So
Blomkvist left the courtroom.
Armansky waited for Blomkvist at the bottom of the stairs in
the courthouse. It was sweltering in the July heat and
Blomkvist could feel sweat in his armpits. His two
bodyguards joined him as he emerged from the
courthouse. Both nodded to Armansky and then they
busied themselves studying the surroundings.
“It feels strange to be walking around with bodyguards,”
Blomkvist said. “What’s all this going to cost?”
“It’s on the firm. I have a personal interest in keeping you
alive. But, since you ask, we’ve spent roughly 250,000
kronor on pro bono work in the past few months.”
“Coffee?” Blomkvist said, pointing to the Italian café on
Bergsgatan.
Blomkvist ordered a latte and Armansky a double espresso
with a teaspoon of milk. They sat in the shade on the
pavement outside. The bodyguards sat at the next table
drinking Cokes.
“Closed court,” Armansky said.
“That was expected. And it’s O.K., since it means that we
can control the news flow better.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t matter to us, but my opinion of
Prosecutor Ekström is sinking fast,” Armansky said.
They drank their coffee and contemplated the courthouse
in which Salander’s future would be decided.
“Custer’s last stand,” Blomkvist said.
“She’s well prepared,” Armansky said. “And I must say I’m
impressed with your sister. When she began planning her
strategy I thought it made no sense, but the more I think
about it, the more effective it seems.”
“This trial won’t be decided in there,” Blomkvist said. He
had been repeating these words like a mantra for several
months.
“You’re going to be called as a witness,” Armansky said.
“I know. I’m ready. But it won’t happen before the day after
tomorrow. At least that’s what we’re counting on.”
Ekström had left his reading glasses at home and had to
push his glasses up on to his forehead and squint to be
able to read the last-minute handwritten additions to his
text. He stroked his blond goatee before once more he
readjusted his glasses and surveyed the room.
Salander sat with her back ramrod straight and gave the
prosecutor an unfathomable look. Her face and eyes were
impassive and she did not appear to be wholly present. It
was time for the prosecutor to begin questioning her.
“I would like to remind Fröken Salander that she is
speaking under oath,” Ekström said at last.
Salander did not move a muscle. Prosecutor Ekström
seemed to be anticipating some sort of response and
waited for a few seconds. He looked at her expectantly.
“You are speaking under oath,” he said.
Salander tilted her head very slightly. Giannini was busy
reading something in the preliminary investigation protocol
and seemed unconcerned by whatever Prosecutor Ekström
was saying. Ekström shuffled his papers. After an
uncomfortable silence he cleared his throat.
“Very well then,” Ekström said. “Let us proceed directly to
the events at the late Advokat Bjurman’s summer cabin
outside Stallarholmen on April 6 of this year, which was the
starting point of my presentation of the case this morning.
We shall attempt to bring clarity to how it happened that
you drove down to Stallarholmen and shot Carl-Magnus
Lundin.”
Ekström gave Salander a challenging look. Still she did not
move a muscle. The prosecutor suddenly seemed
resigned. He threw up his hands and looked pleadingly at
the judge. Judge Iversen seemed wary. He glanced at
Giannini who was still engrossed in some papers,
Giannini who was still engrossed in some papers,
apparently unaware of her surroundings.
Judge Iversen cleared his throat. He looked at Salander.
“Are we to interpret your silence to mean that you don’t
want to answer any questions?” he asked.
Salander turned her head and met Judge Iversen’s eyes.
“I will gladly answer questions,” she said.
Judge Iversen nodded.
“Then perhaps you can answer the question,” Ekström put
in.
Salander looked at Ekström and said nothing.
“Could you please answer the question?” Judge Iversen
urged her.
Salander looked back at the judge and raised her
eyebrows. Her voice was clear and distinct.
“Which question? Until now that man there” – she nodded
towards Ekström – “has made a number of unverified
statements. I haven’t yet heard a question.”
Giannini looked up. She propped her elbow on the table
and leaned her chin on her hand with an interested
expression.
Ekström lost his train of thought for few seconds.
“Could you please repeat the question?” Judge Iversen
said.
“I asked whether … you drove down to Advokat Bjurman’s
summer cabin in Stallarholmen with the intention of
shooting Carl-Magnus Lundin.”
“No. You said that you were going to try to bring clarity to
how it happened that I drove down to Stallarholmen and
shot Carl-Magnus Lundin. That was not a question. It was a
general assertion in which you anticipated my answer. I’m
not responsible for the assertions you are making.”
“Don’t quibble. Answer the question.”
“No.”
Silence.
“No what?”
“No is my answer to the question.”
Prosecutor Ekström sighed. This was going to be a long
day. Salander watched him expectantly.
day. Salander watched him expectantly.
“It might be best to take this from the beginning,” he said.
“Were you at the late Advokat Bjurman’s summer cabin in
Stallarholmen on the afternoon of April 6 this year?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get there?”
“I went by shuttle train to Södertälje and took the
Strängnäs bus.”
“What was your reason for going to Stallarholmen? Had
you arranged a meeting there with Carl-Magnus Lundin
and his friend Sonny Nieminen?”
“No.”
“How was it that they showed up there?”
“You’ll have to ask them that.”
“I’m asking you.”
Salander did not reply.
Judge Iversen cleared his throat. “I presume that Fröken
Salander is not answering because – purely semantically –
you have once again made an assertion,” the judge said
you have once again made an assertion,” the judge said
helpfully.
Giannini suddenly sniggered just loud enough to be heard.
She pulled herself together at once and studied her papers
again. Ekström gave her an irritated glance.
“Why do you think Lundin and Nieminen went to Bjurman’s
summer cabin?”
“I don’t know. I suspect that they went there to commit
arson. Lundin had a litre of petrol in a plastic bottle in the
saddlebag of his Harley-Davidson.”
Ekström pursed his lips. “Why did you go to Advokat
Bjurman’s summer cabin?”
“I was looking for information.”
“What sort of information?”
“The information that I suspect Lundin and Nieminen were
there to destroy, and which could contribute to clarifying
who murdered the bastard.”
“Is it your opinion that Advokat Bjurman was a bastard? Is
that correctly construed?”
“Yes.”
“And why do you think that?”
“He was a sadistic pig, a pervert, and a rapist – and
therefore a bastard.”
She was quoting the text that had been tattooed on the late
Advokat Bjurman’s stomach and thus indirectly admitting
that she was responsible for it. This affray, however, was
not included in the charges against Salander. Bjurman had
never filed a report of assault, and it would be impossible
now to prove whether he had allowed himself to be
tattooed or whether it had been done against his will.
“In other words, you are alleging that your guardian forced
himself on you. Can you tell the court when these assaults
are supposed to have taken place?”
“They took place on Tuesday, February 18, 2003 and
again on Friday, March 7 of the same year.”
“You have refused to answer every question asked by the
police in their attempts to interview you. Why?”
“I had nothing to say to them.”
“I have read the so-called ‘autobiography’ that your lawyer
delivered without warning a few days ago. I must say it is a
strange document, and we’ll come back to it in more detail
later. But in it you claim that Advokat Bjurman allegedly
forced you to perform oral sex on the first occasion, and on
forced you to perform oral sex on the first occasion, and on
the second subjected you to an entire night of repeated
and consummated rape and severe torture.”
Lisbeth did not reply.
“Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did you report the rapes to the police?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“The police never listened before when I tried to tell them
something. So there seemed no point in reporting anything
to them then.”
“Did you discuss these assaults with any of your
acquaintances? A girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s none of their business.”
“Did you try to contact a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Did you go to a doctor to be treated for the injuries you
claim to have sustained?”
“No.”
“And you didn’t go to any women’s crisis centre either.”
“Now you’re making an assertion again.”
“Excuse me. Did you go to any women’s crisis centre?”
“No.”
Ekström turned to the judge. “I want to make the court
aware that the defendant has stated that she was
subjected to sexual assaults on two occasions, the second
of which should be considered exceptionally severe. The
person she claims committed these rapes was her
guardian, the late Advokat Nils Bjurman. The following facts
should be taken into account at this juncture …” Ekström
pointed at the text in front of him. “In the investigation
carried out by the Violent Crimes Division, there was
nothing in Advokat Bjurman’s past to support the credibility
of Lisbeth Salander’s account. Bjurman was never
convicted of any crime. He has never been reported to the
police or been the subject of an investigation. He had
previously been a guardian or trustee to several other
young people, none of whom have claimed that they were
subjected to any sort of attack. On the contrary, they
assert that Bjurman invariably behaved correctly and kindly
towards them.”
Ekström turned a page.
“It is also my duty to remind the court that Lisbeth Salander
has been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. This is a
young woman with a documented violent tendency, who
since her early teens has had serious problems in her
interactions with society. She spent several years in a
children’s psychiatric institution and has been under
guardianship since the age of eighteen. However
regrettable this may be, there are reasons for it. Lisbeth
Salander is a danger to herself and to those around her. It
is my conviction that she does not need a prison sentence.
She needs psychiatric care.”
He paused for effect.
“Discussing a young person’s mental state is an innately
disagreeable task. So much is an invasion of privacy, and
her mental state becomes the subject of interpretation. In
this case, however, we have Lisbeth Salander’s own
confused world view on which to base our decision. It
becomes manifestly clear in what she has termed her
‘autobiography’. Nowhere is her want of a foothold in reality
‘autobiography’. Nowhere is her want of a foothold in reality
as evident as it is here. In this instance we need no
witnesses or interpretations to invariably contradict one
another. We have her own words. We can judge for
ourselves the credibility of her assertions.”
His gaze fell on Salander. Their eyes met. She smiled. She
looked malicious. Ekström frowned.
“Does Advokat Giannini have anything to say?” Judge
Iversen said.
“No,” Giannini said. “Other than that Prosecutor Ekström’s
conclusions are nonsensical.”
The afternoon session began with the cross-questioning of
witnesses. The first was Ulrika von Liebenstaahl from the
guardianship agency. Ekström had called her to the stand
to establish whether complaints had ever been lodged
against Advokat Bjurman. This was strongly denied by von
Liebenstaahl. Such assertions were defamatory.
“There exists a rigorous supervision of guardianship cases.
Advokat Bjurman had been active on behalf of the
guardianship agency for almost twenty years before he
was so shockingly murdered.”
She gave Salander a withering look, despite the fact that
Salander was not accused of murder; it had already been
established that Bjurman was murdered by Ronald
established that Bjurman was murdered by Ronald
Niedermann.
“In all these years there has not been a single complaint
against Advokat Bjurman. He was a conscientious person
who evidenced a deep commitment to his wards.”
“So you don’t think it’s plausible that he would have
subjected Lisbeth Salander to aggravated sexual assault?”
“I think that statement is ridiculous. We have monthly
reports from Advokat Bjurman, and I personally met him on
several occasions to go over the assignment.”
“Advokat Giannini has presented a request that Lisbeth
Salander’s guardianship be rescinded, effective
immediately.”
“No-one is happier than we who work at the agency when a
guardianship can be rescinded. Unfortunately we have a
responsibility, which means that we have to follow the
appropriate regulations. For the agency’s part, we are
required in accordance with normal protocol to see to it
that Lisbeth Salander is declared fit by a psychiatric expert
before there can be any talk of changes to her legal status.
”
“I understand.”
“This means that she has to submit to a psychiatric
examination. Which, as everyone knows, she has refused
to do.”
The questioning of Ulrika von Liebenstaahl lasted for about
forty minutes, during which time Bjurman’s monthly reports
were examined.
Giannini asked only one question before Ulrika von
Liebenstaahl was dismissed.
“Were you in Advokat Bjurman’s bedroom on the night of 7
to 8 March, 2003?”
“Of course not.”
“In other words, you haven’t the faintest idea whether my
client’s statement is true or not?”
“The accusation against Advokat Bjurman is preposterous.”
“That is your opinion. Can you give him an alibi or in any
other way document that he did not assault my client?”
“That’s impossible, naturally. But the probability—”
“Thank you. That will be all,” Giannini said.
Blomkvist met his sister at Milton’s offices near Slussen at
around 7.00 to go through the day’s proceedings.
around 7.00 to go through the day’s proceedings.
“It was pretty much as expected,” Giannini said. “Ekström
has bought Salander’s autobiography.”
“Good. How’s she holding up?”
Giannini laughed.
“She’s holding up very well, coming across as a complete
psychopath. She’s merely being herself.”
“Wonderful.”
“Today has mostly been about what happened at the cabin
in Stallarholmen. Tomorrow it’ll be about Gosseberga,
interrogations of people from forensics and so forth.
Ekström is going to try to prove that Salander went down
there intending to murder her father.”
“Well …”
“But we may have a technical problem. This afternoon
Ekström called Ulrika von Liebenstaahl from the
guardianship agency. She started going on about how I
had no right to represent Lisbeth.”
“Why so?”
“She says that Lisbeth is under guardianship and therefore
isn’t entitled to choose her own lawyer. So, technically, I
may not be her lawyer if the guardianship agency hasn’t
rubber-stamped it.”
“And?”
“Judge Iversen is to decide tomorrow morning. I had a brief
word with him after today’s proceedings. I think he’ll decide
that I can continue to represent her. My point was that the
agency has had three whole months to raise the objection
– to show up with that kind of objection after proceedings
have started is an unwarranted provocation.”
“Teleborian will testify on Friday, I gather. You have to be
the one who cross-examines him.”
On Thursday Prosecutor Ekström explained to the court
that after studying maps and photographs and listening to
extensive technical conclusions about what had taken
place in Gosseberga, he had determined that the evidence
indicated that Salander had gone to her father’s
farmhouse at Gosseberga with the intention of killing him.
The strongest link in the chain of evidence was that she
had taken a weapon with her, a Polish P-83 Wanad.
The fact that Alexander Zalachenko (according to
Salander’s account) or possibly the police murderer
Ronald Niedermann (according to testimony that
Ronald Niedermann (according to testimony that
Zalachenko had given before he was murdered at
Sahlgrenska) had in turn attempted to kill Salander and
bury her in a trench in woods nearby could in no way be
held in mitigation of the fact that she had tracked down her
father to Gosseberga with the express intention of killing
him. Moreover, she had all but succeeded in that objective
when she struck him in the face with an axe. Ekström
demanded that Salander be convicted of attempted murder
or premeditation with the intent to kill and, in that case,
grievous bodily harm.
Salander’s own account stated that she had gone to
Gosseberga to confront her father, to persuade him to
confess to the murders of Dag Svensson and Mia
Johansson. This statement was of dramatic significance in
the matter of establishing intent.
When Ekström had finished questioning the witness Melker
Hansson from the technical unit of the Göteborg police,
Advokat Giannini had asked some succinct questions.
“Herr Hansson, is there anything at all in your investigation
or in all the technical documentation that you have
compiled which could in any way establish that Lisbeth
Salander is lying about her intent regarding the visit to
Gosseberga? Can you prove that she went there with the
intention of murdering her father?”
Hansson thought for a moment.
“No,” he said at last.
“Do you have anything to say about her intent?”
“No.”
“Prosecutor Ekström’s conclusion, eloquent and extensive
as it is, is therefore speculation?”
“I believe so.”
“Is there anything in the forensic evidence that contradicts
Lisbeth Salander’s statement that she took with her the
Polish weapon, a P-83 Wanad, by chance simply because
it was in her bag, and she didn’t know what she should do
with the weapon having taken it the day before from Sonny
Nieminen in Stallarholmen?”
“No.”
“Thank you,” Giannini said and sat down. Those were her
only words throughout Hansson’s testimony, which had
lasted one hour.
Wadensjöö left the Section’s apartment on Artillerigatan at
6.00 on Thursday evening with a feeling that he was
hedged about by ominous clouds of turmoil, of imminent
ruin. For several weeks he had known that his title as
director, that is, the chief of the Section for Special
Analysis, was but a meaningless label. His opinions,
protests and entreaties carried no weight. Clinton had
taken over all decision-making. If the Section had been an
open and public institution, this would not have been a
problem – he would merely have gone to his superior and
lodged his protests.
As things stood now, there was no-one he could protest to.
He was alone and subject to the mercy or disfavour of a
man whom he regarded as insane. And the worst of it was
that Clinton’s authority was absolute. Snot-nosed kids like
Sandberg and faithful retainers like Nyström … they all
seemed to jump into line at once and obey the fatally ill
lunatic’s every whim.
No question that Clinton was a soft-spoken authority who
was not working for his own gain. He would even
acknowledge that Clinton was working in the best interests
of the Section, or at least in what he regarded as its best
interests. The whole organization seemed to be in free fall,
indulging in a collective fantasy in which experienced
colleagues refused to admit that every movement they
made, every decision that was taken and implemented,
only led them one step closer to the abyss.
Wadensjöö felt a pressure in his chest as he turned on to
Linnégatan, where he had found a parking spot earlier that
Linnégatan, where he had found a parking spot earlier that
day. He disabled the alarm and was about to open the car
door when he heard a movement behind him. He turned
around, squinting against the sun. It was a few seconds
before he recognized the stately man on the pavement
before him.
“Good evening, Herr Wadensjöö,” Edklinth said. “I haven’t
been out in the field in ten years, but today I felt that my
presence might be appropriate.”
Wadensjöö looked in confusion at the two plain-clothes
policemen flanking Edklinth. Bublanski he knew, but not the
other man.
Suddenly he guessed what was going to happen.
“It is my unenviable duty to inform you that the Prosecutor
General has decided that you are to be arrested for such a
long string of crimes that it will surely take weeks to compile
a comprehensive catalogue of them.”
“What’s going on here?” Wadensjöö said indignantly.
“What is going on at this moment is that you are being
arrested, suspected of being an accessory to murder. You
are also suspected of extortion, bribery, illegal telephone
tapping, several counts of criminal forgery, criminal
embezzlement of funds, participation in breaking and
entering, misuse of authority, espionage and a long list of
entering, misuse of authority, espionage and a long list of
other lesser but that’s not to say insignificant offences. The
two of us are going to Kungsholmen to have a very serious
talk in peace and quiet.”
“I haven’t committed murder,” Wadensjöö said breathlessly.
“That will have to be established by the investigation.”
“It was Clinton. It was always Clinton,” Wadensjöö said.
Edklinth nodded in satisfaction.
Every police officer knows that there are two classic ways
to conduct the interrogation of a suspect. The bad cop and
the good cop. The bad cop threatens, swears, slams his
fist on the table and generally behaves aggressively with
the intent of scaring the suspect into submission and
confession. The good cop, often a small, grey-haired,
elderly man, offers cigarettes and coffee, nods
sympathetically, and speaks in a reasonable tone.
Many policemen – though not all – also know that the good
cop’s interrogation technique is by far a superior way of
getting results. The tough-as-nails veteran thief will be
least impressed by the bad cop. And the uncertain
amateur, who might be frightened into a confession by a
bad cop, would in all likelihood have confessed everything
anyway, regardless of the technique used.
Blomkvist listened to the questioning of Birger Wadensjöö
from an adjoining room. His presence had been the topic of
a good deal of internal argument before Edklinth decided
that he would probably have use for Blomkvist’s
observation.
Blomkvist noticed that Edklinth was using a third variant on
the police interrogator, the uninterested cop, which in this
particular case seemed to be working even better. Edklinth
strolled into the interrogation room, served coffee in china
cups, turned on the tape recorder and leaned back in his
chair.
“This is how it is: we already have every conceivable
forensic evidence against you. We have, accordingly, no
interest whatsoever in hearing your story save as
confirmation of what we already know. But the question we
might want an answer to is: why? Or how could you be so
idiotic as to decide to begin liquidating individuals in
Sweden just as we saw happen in Chile under the Pinochet
dictatorship? The tape is rolling. If you have anything to
say, now is the time. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll turn off the
tape recorder and then we’ll remove your tie and
shoelaces and accommodate you in a cell upstairs while we
wait for a lawyer, a trial, and in due course, sentencing.”
Edklinth then took a sip of coffee and sat in silence. When
nothing was said for two minutes, he reached out and
turned off the tape recorder. He stood up.
“I’ll see that you’re taken upstairs in a few minutes. Good
evening.”
“I didn’t murder anyone,” Wadensjöö said when Edklinth
had already opened the door. Edklinth paused on the
threshold.
“I’m not interested in having a general discussion with you.
If you want to explain yourself, then I’ll sit down and turn the
tape recorder back on. All of Swedish officialdom – and the
Prime Minister in particular – is eagerly waiting to hear what
you have to say. If you tell me, then I can go and see the
Prime Minister tonight to give him your version of events. If
you don’t tell me, you will be charged and convicted
anyway.”
“Please sit down,” Wadensjöö said.
It was evident to everyone that he was resigned to it
already. Blomkvist exhaled. He was there with Figuerola,
Prosecutor Gustavsson, the otherwise anonymous Säpo
officer Stefan, and two other altogether nameless
individuals. Blomkvist suspected that one of them at least
was there to represent the Minister of Justice.
“I had nothing to do with the murders,” Wadensjöö said
when Edklinth started the tape recorder again.
when Edklinth started the tape recorder again.
“Murders?” Blomkvist whispered to Figuerola.
“Ssshh,” she said.
“It was Clinton and Gullberg. I had no idea what they
intended. I swear it. I was utterly shocked when I heard that
Gullberg had shot Zalachenko. I couldn’t believe it … I
simply couldn’t believe it. And when I heard about Björck I
thought I was going to have a heart attack.”
“Tell me about Björck’s murder,” Edklinth said without
altering his tone. “How was it carried out?”
“Clinton hired some people. I don’t even know how it
happened, but it was two Yugoslavs. Serbs, if I’m not
mistaken. Georg Nyström gave them the contract and paid
them afterwards. When I found out, I knew it would end in
disaster.”
“Should we take this from the beginning?” Edklinth said.
“When did you first start working for the Section?”
Once Wadensjöö had begun to talk he could not be
stopped. The interview lasted for almost five hours.
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