was a relatively short conversation.
"This is Bjorck. I assume you've read the papers."
"I have. She's popped up again."
"And she doesn't seem to have changed much."
"It's no longer our concern."
"You don't think that -"
"No, I don't. All that is dead and buried. There's no connection."
"But Bjurman, of all people. I presume it wasn't by chance that he became her guardian."
There were several seconds of silence on the line.
"No, it was no accident. It seemed like a good idea two years ago. Who could have predicted this?"
"How much did Bjurman know?"
His former boss chuckled. "You know quite well what Bjurman was like. Not the most talented actor."
"I mean... did he know about the connection? Could there be something among his papers or personal effects that would lead anyone to - "
"No, of course not. I understand what you're getting at, but don't worry. Salander has always been the loose cannon in this story. We arranged it so that Bjurman got the assignment, but that was only so we'd have someone we could check up on. Better that than an unknown quantity. If she had started blabbing, he would have come to us. Now this will all work out for the best."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, after this, Salander is going to be sitting in a psychiatric ward for a long, long time."
"That makes sense."
"Don't worry. Go and enjoy your sick leave in peace and quiet."
But that was exactly what Bjorck was unable to do. Blomkvist had seen to that. He sat at the kitchen table and looked out over Jungfrufjarden as he tried to sum up his own situation. He was being threatened from two flanks.
Blomkvist was going to hang him out to dry as a john. There was a serious risk that he would end his police career by being convicted of breaking the sex-trade law.
But even more serious was the fact that Blomkvist was trying to track down Zalachenko. Somehow he was mixed up in the story too. And Zala would lead him back to Bjorck's front door.
His former boss had apparently been assured that there was nothing among Bjurman's personal effects that could provide a further lead. But there was. The report from 1991. And Bjurman had gotten it from Bjorck.
He tried to visualize the meeting with Bjurman more than three months earlier. They had met in Gamla Stan. Bjurman had called him one afternoon at work and suggested they have a beer. They talked about the shooting club and everything under the sun, but Bjurman had sought him out for a particular reason. He needed a favour. He had asked about Zalachenko...
Bjorck got up and stood by the kitchen window. He had been a little tipsy at the meeting. In fact he was quite drunk. What had Bjurman asked him?
"Speaking of which... I'm in the middle of doing something for an old acquaintance who's popped up... "
"Oh yeah, who's that?"
"Alexander Zalachenko. Do you remember him?"
"Are you kidding? He's not an easy man to forget."
"Whatever happened to him?"
Technically, it was none of Bjurman's business. In fact there was good reason to put Bjurman under the microscope just for having asked... but he was Salander's guardian. He said he needed the old report. And I gave it to him.
Bjorck had made a serious mistake. He had assumed that Bjurman had already been informed - anything else would have seemed unthinkable. And Bjurman had presented the matter as though he was only trying to take a shortcut through the plodding bureaucratic procedure in which everything was stamped "confidential" and hush-hush and could drag on for months. In particular anything that had to do with Zalachenko.
I gave him the report. It was still stamped "confidential," but it was for a good and understandable reason, and Bjurman was not someone who would spill the beans. He was stupid, but he had never been a gossip. What could it hurt? It was so many years ago.
Bjurman had made a fool of him. The more Bjorck thought about it, the more convinced he was that Bjurman had chosen his words deliberately, very cautiously.
But what the fuck was Bjurman after? And why would Salander have murdered him?
Blomkvist went to the apartment in Lundagatan four more times on Saturday in the hope of finding Miriam Wu, but she was never there.
He spent a good part of the day at the Kaffebar on Hornsgatan with his iBook, rereading the emails that Svensson had received at his Millennium address and the contents of the folder named.