The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets Nest Page 0,51

Wadensjoo said. "Bjorck gave him the contact."

"Damn," Gullberg said.

In the morning two nurses had come to change her bedlinen. They had found the pencil.

"Oops. How did this get here?" one of them said, putting the pencil in her pocket. Salander looked at her with murder in her eyes.

She was once more without a weapon, but she was too weak to protest.

Her headache was unbearable and she was given strong painkillers. Her left shoulder stabbed like a knife if she moved carelessly or tried to shift her weight. She lay on her back with the brace around her neck. It was supposed to be left on for a few more days until the wound in her head began to heal. On Sunday she had a temperature of 102. Dr Endrin could tell that there was infection in her body. Salander did not need a thermometer to work that out.

She realized that once again she was confined to an institutional bed, even though this time there was no strap holding her down. That would have been unnecessary. She could not sit up even, let alone leave the room.

At lunchtime on Monday she had a visit from Dr Jonasson.

"Hello. Do you remember me?"

She shook her head.

"I was the one who woke you after surgery. I operated on you. I just wanted to hear how you're doing and if everything is going well."

Salander looked at him, her eyes wide. It should have been obvious that everything was not going well.

"I heard you took off your neck brace last night."

She acknowledged as much with her eyes.

"We put the neck brace on for a reason - you have to keep your head still for the healing process to get started." He looked at the silent girl. "O.K.," he said at last. "I just wanted to check on you."

He was at the door when he heard her voice.

"It's Jonasson, right?"

He turned and smiled at her in surprise. "That's right. If you remember my name then you must have been more alert than I thought."

"And you were the one who operated to remove the bullet?"

"That's right."

"Please tell me how I'm doing. I can't get a sensible answer from anyone."

He went back to her bedside and looked her in the eye.

"You were lucky. You were shot in the head, but the bullet did not, I believe, injure any vital areas. The risk you are running is that you could have bleeding in your brain. That's why we want you to stay still. You have an infection in your body. The wound in your shoulder seems to be the cause. It's possible that you'll need another operation - on your shoulder - if we can't arrest the infection with antibiotics. You are going to have some painful times ahead while your body heals. But as things look now, I'm optimistic that you'll make a full recovery."

"Can this cause brain damage?"

He hesitated before nodding. "Yes, there is that possibility. But all the signs indicate that you made it through fine. There's also a possibility that you'll develop scar tissue in your brain, and that might cause trouble... for instance, you might develop epilepsy or some other problem. But to be honest, it's all speculation. Right now, things look good. You're healing. And if problems crop up along the way, we'll deal with them. Is that a clear enough answer?"

She shut her eyes to say yes. "How long do I have to lie here like this?"

"You mean in the hospital? It will be at the least a couple of weeks before we can let you go."

"No, I mean how long before I can get up and start walking and moving around?"

"That depends on how the healing progresses. But count on two weeks before we can start you on some sort of physical therapy."

She gave him a long look. "You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette, would you?" she said.

Dr Jonasson burst out laughing and shook his head. "Sorry. There's no smoking allowed in the hospital. But I can see to it that you get a nicotine patch or some gum."

She thought for a moment before she looked at him again. "How's the old bastard doing?"

"Who? You mean - "

"The one who came in the same time as I did."

"No friend of yours, I presume. Well, he's going to survive and he's been up walking around on crutches. He's actually in worse shape than you are, and he has a very painful facial wound. As I