slave. And Bjurman had turned to the man he supposed was an ally. Zalachenko. Her worst enemy. Her father.
Then a whole chain of events. Bjurman had been shot first, then Svensson and Johansson.
But how? What could have made Svensson such a threat?
And suddenly he knew what must have happened in Enskede.
Blomkvist found a piece of paper on the floor beneath the window. Salander had printed out a page, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it away. He smoothed it out. It was from Aftonbladet's online edition about the kidnapping of Miriam Wu.
He did not know what role Wu had played in the drama - if any - but she had been one of Salander's very few friends. Maybe her only friend. Salander had given her old apartment to her. Now she was lying in the hospital, badly beaten.
Niedermann and Zalachenko.
First her mother. Then Miriam Wu. Salander must be crazy with hatred.
This was one provocation too many.
And now she was on the hunt.
At lunchtime Armansky received a call from the rehabilitation home in Ersta. He had expected to hear from Palmgren much earlier and had avoided making contact with him. He'd been afraid that he would have to report that Salander was guilty beyond all doubt. Now at least he could tell him that there was in fact reasonable doubt of her guilt.
"How far did you get?" Palmgren said without beating about the bush.
"With what?"
"With your investigation of Salander."
"And what makes you think I'm doing any such investigation?"
"Don't waste my time, Dragan." Armansky sighed. "You're right."
"I want you to come and see me," Palmgren said. "I can come this weekend."
"Not good enough. I want you to come tonight. We have a great deal to discuss."
Blomkvist had made himself coffee and a sandwich in Salander's kitchen. He half hoped to hear her keys in the door. But he was not optimistic. The empty hard drive in her PowerBook told him that she had already left her hideout for good. He had found her apartment too late.
At 2:30 in the afternoon he was still sitting at Salander's desk. He had read Bjorck's "non-report" three times. It had been formulated as a memo to an unnamed superior. The recommendation was simple: get a pliable psychiatrist who would admit Salander to the children's psychiatric clinic. The girl was disturbed, as was clearly demonstrated by her behaviour.
Blomkvist was going to devote very particular attention to Bjorck and Teleborian in the coming days. He was looking forward to it. His mobile rang and interrupted his train of thought.
"Hi again. It's Malin. I think I've got something."
"What?"
"There's no Ronald Niedermann in the social security records in Sweden. He's not in any telephone book or tax records or on the vehicle licencing database, or anywhere else. But listen to this. In 1998 a corporation was registered with the Patent Office. It's called KAB Import AB and has a P.O. box address in Goteborg. The company imports electronics. The chairman of the board is Karl Axel Bodin, hence KAB, born in 1941."
"It doesn't ring a bell."
"Not for me either. There's also an accountant on the board who's registered at a couple of dozen other companies. He seems to be one of those nominal finance directors that small companies need. The company has been more or less dormant since it was set up. But then the third member of the board is an R. Niedermann. He doesn't have a social security number in Sweden. He was born on January 18, 1970, and is listed as the company's representative in the German market."
"Good work, Malin. Very good. Do we have an address apart from the P.O. box?"
"No, but I've tracked down Karl Axel Bodin. He's registered in West Sweden and lives at the address for P.O. box 612 in Gosseberga. I looked it up; it seems to be a property in the country not far from Nossebro, northeast of Goteborg."
"What do we know about him?"
"He declared an income of 260,000 kronor two years ago. According to our friend on the police force, he has no criminal record. He has a licence for a moose rifle and a shotgun. He has two cars, a Ford and a Saab, both older models. No points on his licence. He's unmarried and calls himself a farmer."
"A man about whom we know nothing, who has no police record." Blomkvist thought for a few moments. He had to make a decision.
"One more thing. Dragan Armansky called several times looking for you."
"Thanks, Malin. I'll call you later."
"Mikael...