how did you perceive her social handicap?" he asked.
"What handicap?"
"The guardianship and her psychiatric problems."
"Guardianship?"
"What psychiatric problems?" Berger said.
Bublanski looked in astonishment from Blomkvist to Berger and back. They didn't know. They really did not know. Bublanski was suddenly angry at both Armansky and Blomkvist, and especially at Berger with her elegant clothes and her fashionable office looking down on Gotgatan. Here she sits, telling people what to think. But he directed his annoyance at Blomkvist.
"I don't understand what's wrong with you and Armansky," he said.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Lisbeth Salander has been in and out of psychiatric units since she was a teenager. A psychiatric assessment and a judgment in the district court determined that she was and still is unable to look after her own affairs. She was declared incompetent. She has a documented violent tendency and has been in trouble with the authorities all her life. And now she is a prime suspect in a murder investigation. And you and Armansky talk about her as though she were some sort of princess."
Blomkvist sat motionless, staring at Bublanski.
"I'll put it another way," Bublanski said. "We were looking for a connection between Salander and the couple in Enskede. It turns out that you not only discovered the victims, you are also the connection. Do you have anything to say to this?"
Blomkvist leaned back, closed his eyes, and tried to make heads or tails of the situation. Salander suspected of murdering Svensson and Johansson? That can't be right. It doesn't make sense. Was she capable of murder? Blomkvist suddenly saw in his mind's eye her expression from two years ago when she had gone after Martin Vanger with a golf club. There was no shadow of doubt that she could have killed him. But she didn't, because she had to save my life. He unconsciously reached for his neck, where Vanger's noose had been. But Svensson and Johansson ... it doesn't make any logical sense whatsoever.
He was aware that Bublanski was watching him closely. Like Armansky, Blomkvist had to make a choice. Sooner or later he would have to decide which corner of the ring he was going to be in if Salander was accused of murder. Guilty or not guilty?
Before he managed to say anything, the telephone on Berger's desk rang. She picked it up, listened, then handed the receiver to Bublanski.
"Somebody called Faste wants to speak to you."
Bublanski took the receiver and listened attentively. Blomkvist and Berger could see his expression change.
"When are they going in?"
Silence.
"What's the address again? Lundagatan. And the number? OK. I'm in the vicinity. I'll drive there."
Bublanski stood up.
"Excuse me, but I'll have to cut this conversation short. Salander's guardian has just been found shot dead. She's now being formally charged, in absentia, with three murders."
Berger's mouth dropped open. Blomkvist looked as if he had been struck by lightning.
The occupation of the apartment on Lundagatan was an uncomplicated procedure from a tactical perspective. Faste and Andersson leaned on the hood of their car keeping watch while the armed response team, supplied with backup weapons, occupied the stairwell and took control of the building and the rear courtyard.
The team swiftly confirmed what Faste and Andersson already knew. No-one opened the door when they rang the bell.
Faste looked down Lundagatan, which was blocked off from Zinkensdamm to Hogalid Church, to the great annoyance of the passengers on the number 66 bus.
One bus had been stuck inside the barriers on the hill and could not go forward or back. Eventually Faste went over and ordered a patrolman to step aside and let the bus through. A large number of onlookers were watching the commotion from upper Lundagatan.
"There has to be a simpler way," Faste said.
"Simpler than what?" Andersson said.
"Simpler than sending in the storm troopers every time a stray hooligan has to be brought in."
Andersson refrained from commenting.
"After all, she's less than five feet tall and weighs about ninety pounds."
It had been decided that it was not necessary to break down the door with a sledgehammer. Bublanski joined them as they waited for a locksmith to drill out the lock, and then he stepped aside so that the troops could enter the apartment. It took about eight seconds to eyeball the 500 square feet and confirm that Salander was not hiding under the bed, in the bathroom, or in a wardrobe. Then Bublanski was given the all clear to come in.
The three detectives looked with curiosity around the impeccably kept and tastefully furnished apartment. The