The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets Nest Page 0,17

talk to Erika."

Berger barely looked up from her position by the window, but she quickly pulled herself together when she saw who it was.

"Hello," she said. "Mikael isn't here today."

Giannini smiled. "I know. I'm here for Bjorck's Sapo report. Micke asked me to take a look at it in case it turns out that I represent Salander."

Berger nodded. She got up, took a folder from her desk and handed it to Giannini.

Giannini hesitated a moment, wondering whether to leave the office. Then she made up her mind and, uninvited, sat down opposite Berger.

"O.K... what's going on with you?"

"I'm about to resign from Millennium, and I haven't been able to tell Mikael. He's been so tied up in this Salander mess that there hasn't been the right opportunity, and I can't tell the others before I tell him. Right now I just feel like shit."

Giannini bit her lower lip. "So you're telling me instead. Why are you leaving?"

"I'm going to be editor-in-chief of Svenska Morgon-Posten."

"Jesus. Well, in that case, congratulations seem to be in order rather than any weeping or gnashing of teeth."

"Annika... this isn't the way I had planned to end my time at Millennium. In the middle of bloody chaos. But the offer came like a bolt from the blue, and I can't say no. I mean... it's the chance of a lifetime. But I got the offer just before Dag and Mia were shot, and there's been such turmoil here that I buried it. And now I have the world's worst guilty conscience."

"I understand. But now you're afraid of telling Micke."

"It's an utter disaster. I haven't told anybody. I thought I wouldn't be starting at S.M.P. until after the summer, and that there would still be time to tell everyone. But now they want me to start asap."

She fell silent and stared at Annika. She looked on the verge of tears.

"This is, in point of fact, my last week at Millennium. Next week I'll be on a trip, and then... I need about a fortnight off to recharge my batteries. I start at S.M.P. on the first of May."

"Well, what would have happened if you'd been run over by a bus? Then they would have been without an editor-in-chief with only a moment's notice."

Erika looked up. "But I haven't been run over by a bus. I've been deliberately keeping quiet about my decision for weeks now."

"I can see this is a difficult situation, but I've got a feeling that Micke and Christer Malm and the others will be able to work things out. I think you ought to tell them right away."

"Alright, but your damned brother is in Goteborg today. He's asleep and has turned off his mobile."

"I know. There aren't many people who are as stubborn as Mikael about not being available when you need him. But Erika, this isn't about you and Micke. I know that you've worked together for twenty years or so and you've had your ups and downs, but you have to think about Christer and the others on the staff too."

"I've been keeping it under wraps all this time - Mikael's going to - "

"Micke's going to go through the roof, of course he is. But if he can't handle the fact that you screwed up one time in twenty years, then he isn't worth the time you've put in for him."

Berger sighed.

"Pull yourself together," Giannini told her. "Call Christer in, and the rest of the staff. Right now."

Malm sat motionless for a few seconds. Berger had gathered her colleagues into Millennium's small conference room with only a few minutes' notice, just as he was about to leave early. He glanced at Cortez and Karim. They were as astonished as he was. Malin Eriksson, the assistant editor, had not known anything either, nor had Monika Nilsson, the reporter, or the advertising manager Magnusson. Blomkvist was the only one absent from the meeting. He was in Goteborg being his usual Blomkvist self.

Good God. Mikael doesn't know anything about it either, thought Malm. How on earth is he going to react?

Then he realized that Berger had stopped talking, and it was as silent as the grave in the conference room. He shook his head, stood up, and spontaneously gave Berger a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Congrats, Ricky," he said. "Editor-in-chief of S.M.P. That's not a bad step up from this sorry little rag."

Cortez came to life and began to clap. Berger held up her hands.

"Stop," she said. "I don't