“Like my father, for instance?”
“Your father the famous Nazi?” Blomkvist said.
Cecilia Vanger rolled her eyes. “My father is crazy. I only see him a few times a year.”
“Why don’t you want to see him?”
“Wait a minute—before you start in asking a lot of questions...Are you planning to
quote anything I say? Or can I carry on a normal conversation with you?”
“My job is to write a book starting with Alexandre Vangeersad’s arrival in Sweden
with Bernadotte and going up to the present. It’s to cover the business empire over
many decades, but it will also discuss why the empire is in difficulty and it will
touch on the animosity that exists within the family. In such a survey it’s impossible
to avoid having some dirty linen float to the surface. But that doesn’t mean that I’m
going to set out to present a malicious portrait of anyone. For example, I’ve met
Martin Vanger; he seems to me a very sympathetic person, and that’s how I’m
going to describe him.”
Cecilia Vanger did not reply.
“What I know about you is that you’re a teacher...”
“It’s actually worse than that—I’m the headmistress of Hedestad preparatory
school.”
“I’m sorry. I know that your uncle is fond of you, that you’re married but
separated...and that’s about all so far. So do please go ahead and talk to me
without fear of being quoted. I’m sure I’ll come knocking on your door some day
soon. Then it will be an official interview, and you can choose whether you want to
answer my questions or not.”
“So I can talk to you then or now...off the record, as they say?”
“Of course.”
“And this is off the record?”
“Of course. This is a social visit after all.”