"That is all bullshit. Her mother was a whore. It was probably one of her punters who beat her up. I just happened to be passing by."
Modig raised her eyebrows. "So you're completely innocent?"
"Of course I am."
"Zalachenko... let me repeat that to see if I've understood you correctly. You say that you never beat your girlfriend, Agneta Sofia Salander, Lisbeth's mother, despite the fact that the whole business is the subject of a long report, stamped top secret, written at the time by your handler at Sapo, Gunnar Bjorck."
"I was never convicted of anything. I have never been charged. I cannot help it if some idiot in the Security Police fantasizes in his reports. If I had been a suspect, they would have at the very least questioned me."
Modig made no answer. Zalachenko seemed to be grinning beneath his bandages.
"So I wish to press charges against my daughter. For trying to kill me."
Modig sighed. "I'm beginning to understand why she felt an uncontrollable urge to slam an axe into your head."
Erlander cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Herr Bodin... We should get back to any information you might have about Ronald Niedermann's activities."
Modig made a call to Inspector Bublanski from the corridor outside Zalachenko's hospital room.
"Nothing," she said.
"Nothing?" Bublanski said.
"He's lodging a complaint with the police against Salander - for G.B.H. and attempted murder. He says that he had nothing to do with the murders in Stockholm."
"And how does he explain the fact that Salander was buried in a trench on his property in Gosseberga?"
"He says he had a cold and was asleep most of the day. If Salander was shot in Gosseberga, it must have been something that Niedermann decided to do."
"O.K. So what do we have?"
"She was shot with a Browning.22 calibre. Which is why she's still alive. We found the weapon. Zalachenko admits that it's his."
"I see. In other words, he knows we're going to find his prints on the gun."
"Exactly. But he says that the last time he saw the gun, it was in his desk drawer."
"Which means that the excellent Herr Niedermann took the weapon while Zalachenko was asleep and shot Salander. This is one cold bastard. Do we have any evidence to the contrary?"
Modig thought for a few seconds before she replied. "He's well versed in Swedish law and police procedure. He doesn't admit to a thing, and he has Niedermann as a scapegoat. I don't have any idea what we can prove. I asked Erlander to send his clothes to forensics and have them examined for traces of gunpowder, but he's bound to say that he was doing target practice two days ago."
Salander was aware of the smell of almonds and ethanol. It felt as if she had alcohol in her mouth and she tried to swallow, but her tongue felt numb and paralysed. She tried to open her eyes, but she could not. In the distance she heard a voice that seemed to be talking to her, but she could not understand the words. Then she heard the voice quite clearly.
"I think she's coming round."
She felt someone touch her forehead and tried to brush away the intrusive hand. At the same moment she felt intense pain in her left shoulder. She forced herself to relax.
"Can you hear me, Lisbeth?"
Go away.
"Can you open your eyes?"
Who was this bloody idiot harping on at her?
Finally she did open her eyes. At first she just saw strange lights until a figure appeared in the centre of her field of vision. She tried to focus her gaze, but the figure kept slipping away. She felt as if she had a stupendous hangover and the bed seemed to keep tilting backwards.
"Pnkllrs," she said.
"Say that again?"
"'diot," she said.
"That sounds good. Can you open your eyes again?"
She opened her eyes to narrow slits. She saw the face of a complete stranger and memorized every detail. A blond man with intense blue eyes and a tilted, angular face about a foot from hers.
"Hello. My name is Anders Jonasson. I'm a doctor. You're in a hospital. You were injured and you're waking up after an operation. Can you tell me your name?"
"Pshalandr," Salander said.
"O.K. Would you do me a favour and count to ten?"
"One two four... no... three four five six..."
Then she passed out.
Dr Jonasson was pleased with the response he had got. She had said her name and started to count. That meant that she still had her cognitive abilities somewhat intact and