"I thought something had happened to you. Not that we had been in touch that much in the last months you were here."
"I was busy."
"You're such a mystery. You never talk about yourself. I don't even know where you work or who I could have called when you didn't answer your mobile."
"I'm not working anywhere right now, and besides, you're just like me. You wanted sex but you weren't particularly interested in a relationship. Or were you?"
"That's true," Mimmi said at last.
"And it was the same with me. I never made any promises."
"You've changed," Mimmi said.
"Not a lot."
"You look older. More mature. You have different clothes. And you've stuffed your bra with something."
Salander said nothing. Mimmi had seen her naked - of course she would notice the change. In the end she lowered her eyes and mumbled, "I had a boob job."
"What did you say?"
Salander looked up and raised her voice, unaware that it had taken on a defiant tone.
"I went to a clinic in Italy and had breast implants. That's why I disappeared. Then I just kept on travelling. Now I'm back."
"Are you joking?"
Salander looked at Mimmi, expressionless.
"Stupid of me. You never joke about anything, Mr. Spock."
"I'm not going to apologize. I'm just being honest. If you want me to leave, just say the word."
Mimmi laughed out loud. "Well, I certainly don't want you to leave without letting me see how they look. Please."
"I've always liked having sex with you, Mimmi. You didn't give a damn what sort of work I did, and if I was busy you found somebody else."
Mimmi nodded. When she was seventeen, after a number of fumbling attempts, she was finally initiated into the mysteries of sex at a party organized in Goteborg by the Swedish Federation for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Rights. She had never considered any other lifestyle after that. Once when she was twenty-three she had tried having sex with a man. She mechanically did everything she was expected to do, but it was not enjoyable. She also belonged to the minority within the minority who were not interested in marriage or fidelity or cosy evenings at home.
"I've been home for a few weeks. I needed to know if I had to go out and pick somebody up or if you're still interested."
Mimmi bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips.
"I was thinking of studying tonight."
She unbuttoned the top button of Lisbeth's blouse.
"But what the hell... "
She kissed her again and kept unbuttoning.
"I just have to see this."
She kissed her again.
"Welcome back."
***
Harriet Vanger fell asleep around 2:00 a.m. Blomkvist lay awake listening to her breathing. After a while he got up and filched a Dunhill from the pack in her handbag. He sat in a chair next to the bed and looked at her.
He had not planned to become Harriet Vanger's lover. Far from it. After his time in Hedestad he wanted more than anything to keep the whole Vanger family at arm's length. He had seen Harriet at board meetings and kept his distance. They knew each other's secrets, but apart from Harriet Vanger's role on Millennium's board, their dealings were at an end.
During the Whitsuntide vacation the year before, Blomkvist had gone to his cabin in Sandhamn for the first time in several months, to have some peace and quiet and sit on the porch and read crime novels. On the Friday afternoon, he was on his way to the kiosk to buy some cigarettes when he ran into Harriet. She had apparently felt a need to get away from Hedestad herself and had booked a weekend at the hotel in Sandhamn. She had not been there since she was a child. She had been sixteen when she left Sweden and fifty-three when she came back. It was Blomkvist who had tracked her down.
After their surprised greetings, Harriet had lapsed into an awkward silence. Blomkvist knew her history, and she was aware that he had compromised his principles in order to cover up the Vanger family's horrific secrets. And in part he had done it for her.
Blomkvist invited her to his cabin. He made coffee and they sat on the porch outside for several hours, talking. It was the first time they had talked at length since her return.
Blomkvist could not resist asking: "What did you do with the stuff in Martin's basement?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes."
"I cleaned it up myself. I burned everything that would burn. I had the house torn down. I couldn't live there,