they're planning to murder him. Then the police will find the cocaine during the investigation and draw their own conclusions."
Edklinth stared back at her.
"He's supposed to be meeting Erika Berger at Samir's Cauldron," Figuerola said. She grabbed Andersson by the shoulder. "Are you armed?"
"Yes..."
"Come with me."
Figuerola rushed out of the conference room. Her office was three doors down. She ran in and took her service weapon from the desk drawer. Against all regulations she left the door to her office unlocked and wide open as she raced off towards the lifts. Andersson hesitated for a second.
"Go," Bublanski told him. "Sonja, you go with them too."
Blomkvist got to Samir's Cauldron at 6.20. Berger had just arrived and found a table near the bar, not far from the entrance. He kissed her on the cheek. They both ordered lamb stew and strong beers from the waiter.
"How was the She woman?" Berger said.
"Cool, as usual."
Berger laughed. "If you don't watch out you're going to become obsessed by her. Imagine, a woman who can resist the famous Blomkvist charm."
"There are in fact several women who haven't fallen for me over the years," Blomkvist said. "How has your day been?"
"Wasted. But I accepted an invitation to be on a panel to debate the whole S.M.P. business at the Publicists' Club. That will be my final contribution."
"Great."
"It's just such a relief to be back at Millennium."
"You have no idea how good it is that you're back. I'm still elated."
"It's fun to be at work again."
"Mmm."
"I'm happy."
"And I have to go to the gents'," Blomkvist said, getting up.
He almost collided with a man who had just walked in. Blomkvist noticed that he looked vaguely eastern European and was staring at him. Then he saw the sub-machine gun.
As they passed Riddarholmen, Edklinth called to tell them that neither Blomkvist nor Berger were answering their mobiles. They had presumably turned them off for dinner.
Figuerola swore and passed Sodermalmstorg at a speed of close to eighty kilometres an hour. She kept her horn pressed down and made a sharp turn on to Hornsgatan. Andersson had to brace himself against the door. He had taken out his gun and checked the magazine. Modig did the same in the back seat.
"We have to call for back-up," Andersson said. "You don't play games with the Nikolich boys."
Figuerola ground her teeth.
"This is what we'll do," she said. "Sonja and I will go straight into the restaurant and hope they're sitting inside. Curt, you know what these guys look like, so you stay outside and keep watch."
"Right."
"If all goes well, we'll take Blomkvist and Berger straight out to the car and drive them down to Kungsholmen. If we suspect anything's wrong, we stay inside the restaurant and call for back-up."
"O.K.," Modig said.
Figuerola was nearly at the restaurant when the police radio crackled beneath the dashboard.
All units. Shots fired on Tavastgatan on Sodermalm. Samir's Cauldron restaurant.
Figuerola felt a sudden lurch in her chest.
Berger saw Blomkvist bump into a man as he was heading past the entrance towards the gents'. She frowned without really knowing why. She saw the other man stare at Blomkvist with a surprised expression. She wondered if it was somebody he knew.
Then she saw the man take a step back and drop a bag to the floor. At first she did not know what she was seeing. She sat paralysed as he raised some kind of gun and aimed it at Blomkvist
Blomkvist reacted without stopping to think. He flung out his left hand, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and twisted it up towards the ceiling. For a microsecond the muzzle passed in front of his face.
The burst of fire from the sub-machine gun was deafening in the small room. Mortar and glass from the overhead lights rained down on Blomkvist as Miro Nikolich squeezed off eleven shots. For a moment Blomkvist looked directly into the eyes of his attacker.
Then Nikolich took a step back and yanked the gun towards him. Blomkvist was unprepared and lost his grip on the barrel. He knew at once that he was in mortal danger. Instinctively he threw himself at the attacker instead of crouching down or trying to take cover. Later he realized that if he had ducked or backed away, he would have been shot on the spot. He got a new grip on the barrel of the sub-machine gun and used his entire weight to drive the man against the wall. He heard another six or seven shots go off and tore desperately at