his brother Pietro, his sister-in-law Eva-Lotta, and their children Peter and Nicola. Plus Enrico's sister Marcella and her four kids, who lived in the same neighbourhood. Enrico's aunt Angelina, who was regarded by the family as stark raving mad, or on good days just extremely eccentric, had also been invited, along with her new boyfriend.
At the dining-room table, abundant with food, the conversation went on in a rattling mixture of Swedish and Italian, sometimes simultaneously. The situation was made more annoying because Angelina spent the evening wondering out loud - to anyone who would listen - why Annika's brother was still a bachelor. She also proposed a number of suitable solutions to his problem from among the daughters of her friends. Exasperated, Blomkvist finally explained that he would be happy to get married but that unfortunately his lover was already married. That shut up even Angelina for a while.
At 7:30 Blomkvist's mobile beeped. He'd thought he had shut it off and he almost missed the call as he dug it out of the inside pocket of his jacket, which someone had hung on the coatrack in the hall. It was Svensson.
"Am I interrupting something?"
"Not particularly. I'm at dinner with my sister and a platoon of people from her husband's family. What's up?"
"Two things. I've tried to get hold of Christer, but he's not answering."
"He's at the theatre with his boyfriend."
"Damn. I'd promised to meet him at the office tomorrow morning with the photographs and graphics for the book. Christer was going to look at them over the weekend. But Mia has suddenly decided to drive up to see her parents in Dalarna for Easter to show them her thesis. We'll have to leave early in the morning and some of the pictures I can't email. Could I messenger them over to you tonight?"
"You could... but look, I'm out in Lannersta. I'll be here for a while, but I'm coming back into town later. Enskede wouldn't be that far out of my way. I could drop by and pick them up. Would around 11:00 be OK?"
"That's fine. The second thing... I don't think you're going to like this."
"Shoot."
"I stumbled across something I think I had better check out before the book goes to the printer."
"OK - what is it?"
"Zala, spelled with a Z."
"Ah. Zala the gangster. The one people seem to be terrified of and nobody wants to talk about."
"That's him. A couple of days ago I came across him again. I believe he's in Sweden now and that he ought to be in the list of johns in chapter seven."
"Dag - you can't start digging up new material three weeks before we go to press."
"I know. But this is a bit special. I talked to a policeman who had heard some talk about Zala. Anyway, I think it would make sense to spend a couple of days next week checking up on him."
"Why him? You've got plenty of other assholes in the book."
"This one seems to be an Olympian asshole. Nobody really knows who he is. I've got a gut feeling that it would be worth our while to poke around one more time."
"Don't ever discount your gut feelings," Blomkvist said. "But honestly... we can't push back the deadline. The printer is booked, and the book has to come out simultaneously with the Millennium issue."
"I know," Svensson said, sounding dejected.
"I'll call you later," Blomkvist said.
Johansson had just brewed a pot of coffee and poured it into the table thermos when the doorbell rang. It was just before 9:00 p.m. Svensson was closer to the door and, thinking it was Blomkvist coming earlier than he had said he would, he opened it without first looking through the peephole. Not Blomkvist. Instead he was confronted by a short, doll-like girl in her late teens.
"I'm looking for Dag Svensson and Mia Johansson," the girl said.
"I'm Dag Svensson."
"I'd like to speak with both of you."
Svensson automatically looked at the clock. Johansson was curious and came into the hall to stand behind her boyfriend.
"It's a bit late for a visit," Svensson said.
"I'd like to talk about the book you're planning on publishing at Millennium."
Svensson and Johansson looked at each other.
"And who are you?"
"I'm interested in the subject. May I come in, or shall we discuss it here on the landing?"
Svensson hesitated for a second. The girl was a total stranger, and the time of her visit was odd, but she seemed harmless enough, so he held the door open. He showed her