The Girl Who Lived Twice (Millennium #6) - David Lagercrantz Page 0,61
entirely present, and he said with all the authority he could muster:
“If you don’t fuck off right away, I’ll call the police.”
She did not answer. She did not even appear to have heard. She bent to get some rope and a roll of duct tape out of her bag, and for a moment he could not think of anything to say. Then he yelled “Out!” and grabbed her by the hand.
But somehow she managed to take hold of his wrist and drag him over to the dining table. He was both furious and frightened, and he tore himself loose, meaning to hit her or ram her against the wall, but she rushed at him so that he toppled onto his back on the table. In a matter of seconds she was on top of him with those same icy, blank eyes, and quick as a flash she had him tied down. In her monotone she said:
“Now I’m going to iron your shirt for you.”
Then she put tape over his mouth and eyed him the way a wild beast eyes its prey. Thomas Müller had never felt so terrified in all his life.
* * *
—
Blomkvist had suffered badly in the cold currents and had swallowed a lot of water. He and Forsell had been winched up and flown away in the same helicopter. For a while he had been more or less unconscious. But he had recovered fairly quickly and now, late in the evening, after the ward round and three interrogation sessions by military intelligence, he was given back his belongings, including his mobile which had been retrieved from his dinghy. A young family in a sailing boat had towed it in from the bay. He was given permission to go home, but the doctors recommended he stay in hospital overnight. He was also informed that a prosecutor by the name of Matson had placed a gag order on him. He needed to call his sister Annika, the lawyer.
He knew very well that the legal basis for silencing journalists was shaky, and in any case he resented the autocratic behaviour of the men from the intelligence service. But he let it lie. He was not going to write one word until he had got to the bottom of the story anyway, so he stayed sitting on the bed, gathering his thoughts. He was not left in peace for long.
There was another knock at the door and a tall woman with dark-blond hair and bloodshot eyes appeared in the room. For some reason—perhaps because he was just staring at all the missed calls on his mobile—it was a while before he realized it was Rebecka Forsell. Her hands were shaking, and she said she really wanted to thank him before he left.
“Is he better?” Blomkvist asked.
“The worst is over, thank God. But we don’t yet know if he’s suffered any brain damage. It’s too early to tell.”
He asked her to take a seat in the chair next to him.
“They say that you too had a close shave,” she said.
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
“But still…do you realize what you’ve done—for us? Do you get that? It’s immense.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m touched.”
“Is there anything we can do for you?” she said.
Tell me everything you know about Nima Rita, he thought. Out with the truth.
“See to it that your husband gets better and finds himself a more restful job,” he said.
“It’s been a dreadful time.”
“I understand.”
“You know…”
She looked confused, and was nervously rubbing her hand against her left arm.
“Yes?”
“I’ve just been reading about Johannes online, and all of a sudden people are being nice again, not all of them, of course, but many. It’s almost unreal. It’s brought home to me the nightmare we’ve been living through.”
Blomkvist leaned forward and took her hand.
“I was the one who called Dagens Nyheter and told them it was a suicide attempt, even though I don’t know for certain what happened, exactly. Was that a bad thing to do?” she asked.
“You had your reasons, I suppose.”
“I wanted them to understand how far it had gone.”
“Fair enough.”
“The men from Must told me something very odd,” she said, looking distraught.
“What did they tell you?” he said, trying to sound calm.
“That you had found out about Nima Rita’s death here in Stockholm.”
“Yes, it’s really odd. Did the two of you know him?”
“I’m not sure I dare say anything. They keep badgering me all the time to keep quiet about it.”