They sat in silence, deep in thought. Blomkvist made coffee. Frode looked
wretchedly unhappy.
“I need to ask you about what’s going to happen now,” Blomkvist said.
Frode looked up.
“The conditions of your employment don’t change. They’re stipulated in a contract
that runs until the end of this year, whether Henrik lives or dies. You don’t have to
worry.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m wondering who I report to in his absence.”
Frode sighed.
“Mikael, you know as well as I do that this whole story about Harriet is just a
pastime for Henrik.”
“Don’t say that, Dirch.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve found new evidence,” Blomkvist said. “I told Henrik about some of it yesterday.
I’m very much afraid that it may have helped to bring on his heart attack.”
Frode looked at him with a strange expression.
“You’re joking, you must be...”
Blomkvist shook his head.
“Over the past few days I’ve found significant material about Harriet’s
disappearance. What I’m worried about is that we never discussed who I should
report to if Henrik is no longer here.”
“You report to me.”
“OK. I have to go on with this. Can I put you in the picture right now?”
Blomkvist described what he had found as concisely as possible, and he showed
Frode the series of pictures from Järnvägsgatan. Then he explained how his own
daughter had unlocked the mystery of the names in the date book. Finally, he