in the investigation would slam shut. He wasn't sure what he was going to do.
After a while he took out his mobile and called Tony Scala, a freelance journalist who made a living writing drivel for men's magazines. Hedstrom had met him a few times. He told Scala that he had one or two bits of information about the investigation into the murders in Enskede. He explained how he had ended up right in the middle of the hottest police investigation in years. Scala took the bait at once: it might turn into a scoop for a major magazine. They agreed to meet for a coffee an hour later at the Aveny on Kungsgatan.
Scala was fat. Seriously fat.
"If you want information from me there are two preconditions," Hedstrom said.
"Shoot."
"First, no mention of Milton Security in the article. Our role is as consultants only."
"Although it is newsworthy given that Salander worked at Milton."
"Cleaning and stuff like that," Hedstrom said, brushing him off. "That's no news."
"If you say so."
"Second, you have to slant the article so it sounds as though a woman leaked the information."
"How come?"
"To divert suspicion from me."
"All right. So what have you got?"
"Salander's lesbian girlfriend just showed up."
"OK, excellent! The chick she signed over the Lundagatan apartment to? The one who disappeared?"
"Miriam Wu. Is that worth anything to you?"
"You'd better believe it. Where was she?"
"Out of the country. She claims she hadn't even heard about the murders."
"Is she a suspect at all?"
"No. Not yet anyway. She was interviewed today and released three hours ago."
"I see. Do you believe her story?"
"I think she's lying through her teeth. She knows something."
"Great stuff, Niklas."
"But check her out. We're talking about a girl who goes in for S&M with Salander."
"You know this for a fact?"
"She admitted to it during the interview. We found handcuffs, leather outfits, whips, and the whole shebang when we searched the place."
The stuff about the whips was an exaggeration. All right, it was a total lie, but surely that Chinese cunt played with whips too.
"Are you kidding?" Scala said.
Paolo Roberto was one of the last to leave the library. He had spent the afternoon reading every line that had been written about the hunt for Salander.
He came out on Sveavagen feeling depressed and confused. And hungry. He went into McDonald's, ordered a burger, and sat down at a corner table.
Lisbeth Salander a triple murderer. He could hardly believe it. Not that skinny little fucking freaky chick. But should he do something about it? And if so, what?
Miriam Wu took a cab back to Lundagatan and slowly took in the devastation of her newly decorated apartment. Cupboards, wardrobes, storage boxes, and desk drawers had been emptied out. There was fingerprint powder on every surface. Her highly private sex toys were heaped on the bed. But as far as she could tell, nothing had been taken.
She put on the coffeemaker and shook her head. Lisbeth, Lisbeth, what the fuck have you got yourself mixed up in?
She took out her mobile and called Salander's number, but got the message that the subscriber could not be reached. She sat for a long time at her kitchen table and tried to work out what was real and what wasn't. The Salander she knew was no psychotic killer, but on the other hand she didn't know her very well. Salander was hot in bed, sure, but she could be a very cold fish if her mood changed.
She promised herself not to make up her mind before she saw Salander and got her own explanation. She felt like crying and spent two hours cleaning up.
By 7:00 p.m. the apartment was more or less habitable again. She took a shower and was in the kitchen dressed in a black-and-gold Oriental silk robe when the doorbell rang. At the door was an unshaven, exceptionally fat man.
"Hi, Miriam, my name is Tony Scala. I'm a journalist. Can I ask you a few questions?"
Standing next to him was a photographer who took a flash picture right in her face.
Miriam Wu contemplated a dropkick and an elbow to his nose, but she had the presence of mind to realize that it would only give them more photo ops.
"Have you been out of the country with Lisbeth Salander? Do you know where she is?"
Miriam Wu shut the door in their faces and locked it with the newly installed dead bolt. Scala pushed open the mail slot.
"Miriam, sooner or later you'll have to talk to the press. I can help you."