feels great. That's a normal phenomenon among people who do extreme training. The body produces a pain-suppressing chemical and you become addicted to it. If you don't run every day, you get withdrawal symptoms after a while. You feel an enormous sense of wellbeing when you give something your all. It's almost as powerful as good sex."
Blomkvist laughed.
"You should start working out yourself," she said. "You're getting a little thick in the waist."
"I know," he said. "A constant guilty conscience. Sometimes I start running regularly and lose a couple of kilos. Then I get involved in something and don't get time to do it again for a month or two."
"You've been pretty busy these last few months. I've been reading a lot about you. You beat the police by several lengths when you tracked down Zalachenko and identified Niedermann."
"Lisbeth Salander was faster."
"How did you find out Niedermann was in Gosseberga?"
Blomkvist shrugged. "Routine research. I wasn't the one who found him. It was our assistant editor, well, now our editor-in-chief Malin Eriksson who managed to dig him up through the corporate records. He was on the board of Zalachenko's company, K.A.B Import."
"That simple..."
"And why did you become a Sapo activist?" he said.
"Believe it or not, I'm something as old-fashioned as a democrat. I mean, the police are necessary, and a democracy needs a political safeguard. That's why I'm proud to be working at Constitutional Protection."
"Is it really something to be proud of?" said Blomkvist.
"You don't like the Security Police."
"I don't like institutions that are beyond normal parliamentary scrutiny. It's an invitation to abuse of power, no matter how noble the intentions. Why are you so interested in the religion of antiquity?"
Figuerola looked at Blomkvist.
"You were reading a book about it on my staircase," he said.
"The subject fascinates me."
"I see."
"I'm interested in a lot of things. I've studied law and political science while I've worked for the police. Before that I studied both philosophy and the history of ideas."
"Do you have any weaknesses?"
"I don't read fiction, I never go to the cinema, and I watch only the news on T.V. How about you? Why did you become a journalist?"
"Because there are institutions like Sapo that lack parliamentary oversight and which have to be exposed from time to time. I don't really know. I suppose my answer to that is the same one you gave me: I believe in a constitutional democracy and sometimes it has to be protected."
"The way you did with Hans-Erik Wennerstrom?"
"Something like that."
"You're not married. Are you and Erika Berger together?"
"Erika Berger's married."
"So all the rumours about you two are nonsense. Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No-one steady."
"So the rumours might be true after all."
Blomkvist smiled.
Eriksson worked at her kitchen table at home in Årsta until the small hours. She sat bent over spreadsheets of Millennium's budget and was so engrossed that Anton, her boyfriend, eventually gave up trying to have a conversation with her. He washed the dishes, made a late snack, and put on some coffee. Then he left her in peace and sat down to watch a repeat of C.S.I.
Malin had never before had to cope with anything more complex than a household budget, but she had worked alongside Berger balancing the monthly books, and she understood the principles. Now she was suddenly editor-in-chief, and with that role came responsibility for the budget. Sometime after midnight she decided that, whatever happened, she was going to have to get an accountant to help her. Ingela Oscarsson, who did the bookkeeping one day a week, had no responsibility for the budget and was not at all helpful when it came to making decisions about how much a freelancer should be paid or whether they could afford to buy a new laser printer that was not already included in the sum earmarked for capital investments or I.T. upgrades. In practice it was a ridiculous situation - Millennium was making a profit, but that was because Berger had always managed to balance an extremely tight budget. Instead of investing in something as fundamental as a new colour laser printer for 45,000 kronor, they would have to settle for a black-and-white printer for 8,000 instead.
For a moment she envied Berger. At S.M.P. she had a budget in which such a cost would be considered pin money.
Millennium's financial situation had been healthy at the last annual general meeting, but the surplus in the budget was primarily made up of the profits from Blomkvist's book about the Wennerstrom affair. The revenue that