?
Everything was closed. Hedestad was practically deserted, and the inhabitants seemed to have retreated to their Midsummer poles at their summer cottages. Blomkvist made for the Stadshotel terrace, which was actually open, and there he was able to order coffee and a sandwich and read the evening papers. Nothing of importance was happening in the world.
He put the paper down and thought about Cecilia Vanger. He had told no-one—apart from the Salander girl—that she was the one who had opened the window in Harriet’s room. He was afraid that it would make her a suspect, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. But the question was going to have to be asked, sooner or later.
He sat on the terrace for an hour before he decided to set the whole problem aside and devote Midsummer Eve to something other than the Vanger family. His mobile was silent. Berger was away amusing herself somewhere with her husband, and he had no-one to talk to.
He went back to Hedeby Island at around 4:00 in the afternoon and made another decision—to stop smoking. He had been working out regularly ever since he did his military service, both at the gym and by running along S?der M?larstrand, but had fallen out of the habit when the problems with Wennerstr?m began. It was at Rull?ker Prison that he had starting pumping iron again, mostly as therapy. But since his release he had taken almost no exercise. It was time to start again. He put on his tracksuit and set off at a lazy pace along the road to Gottfried’s cabin, turned off towards the Fortress, and took a rougher course cross country. He had done no orienteering since he was in the military, but he had always thought it was more fun to run through a wooded terrain than on a flat track. He followed the fence around ?sterg?rden back to the village. He was aching all over and out of breath by the time he took the last steps up to the guest house.
At 6:00 he took a shower. He boiled some potatoes and had open sandwiches of pickled herring in mustard sauce with chives and egg on a rickety table outside the cottage, facing the bridge. He poured himself a shot of aquavit and drank a toast to himself. After that he opened a crime novel by Val McDermid entitled The Mermaids Singing.
?
At around 7:00 Frode drove up and sat heavily in the chair across from him. Blomkvist poured him a shot of Sk?ne aquavit.
“You stirred up some rather lively emotions today,” Frode said.
“I could see that.”
“Birger is a conceited fool.”
“I know that.”
“But Cecilia is not a conceited fool, and she’s furious.”
Mikael nodded.
“She has instructed me to see that you stop poking around in the family’s affairs.”
“I see. And what did you say to her?”
Frode looked at his glass of Sk?ne and downed the liquor in one gulp.
“My response was that Henrik has given me clear instructions about what he wants you to do. As long as he doesn’t change those instructions, you will continue to be employed under the terms of your contract. I expect you to do your best to fulfil your part of the contract.”
Blomkvist looked up at the sky, where rain clouds had begun to gather.
“Looks like a storm is brewing,” Frode said. “If the winds get too strong, I’ll have to back you up.”
“Thank you.”
They sat in silence for a while.
“Could I have another drink?”
Only minutes after Frode had gone home, Martin Vanger drove up and parked his car by the road in front of the cottage. He came over and said hello. Mikael wished him a happy Midsummer and asked if he’d like a drink.
“No, it’s better if I don’t. I’m just here to change my clothes and then I’m going to drive back to town to spend the evening with Eva.”
Blomkvist waited.
“I’ve talked to Cecilia. She’s a little traumatised just now—she and Henrik have always been close. I hope you’ll forgive her if she says anything…unpleasant.”
“I’m very fond of Cecilia.”
“I know that. But she can be difficult. I just want you to know that she’s very much against your going on digging into our past.”
Blomkvist sighed. Everyone in Hedestad seemed to know why Vanger had hired him.
“What’s your feeling?”
“This thing with Harriet has been Henrik’s obsession for decades. I don’t know…Harriet was my sister, but somehow it feels all so far away. Dirch says that you have a contract that only Henrik can break, and I’m afraid that in his present condition it would do more harm than good.”
“So you want me to continue?”
“Have you made any progress?”
“I’m sorry, Martin, but it would be a breach of that contract if I told you anything without Henrik’s permission.”
“I understand.” Suddenly he smiled. “Henrik is a bit of a conspiracy fanatic. But above all, I don’t want you to get his hopes up unnecessarily.”
“I won’t do that.”
“Good…By the way, to change the subject, we now have another contract to consider as well. Given that Henrik is ill and can’t in the short term fulfil his obligations on the Millennium board, it’s my responsibility to take his place.”
Mikael waited.
“I suppose we should have a board meeting to look at the situation.”
“That’s a good idea. But as far as I know, it’s been decided that the next board meeting won’t be held until August.”
“I know that, but maybe we should hold it earlier.”
Blomkvist smiled politely.
“You’re really talking to the wrong person. At the moment I’m not on the board. I left in December. You should get in touch with Erika Berger. She knows that Henrik has been taken ill.”
Martin Vanger had not expected this response.
“You’re right, of course. I’ll talk to her.” He patted Blomkvist on the shoulder to say goodbye and was gone.
Nothing concrete had been said, but the threat hung in the air. Martin Vanger had set Millennium on the balance tray. After a moment Blomkvist poured himself another drink and picked up his Val McDermid.
The mottled brown cat came to say hello and rubbed on his leg. He lifted her up and scratched behind her ears.
“The two of us are having a very boring Midsummer Eve, aren’t we?” he said.
When it started to rain, he went inside and went to bed. The cat preferred to stay outdoors.
