“If you’re calling to discuss the judgement against me, I have no comment.”
“I’d like to come out and do an interview with you.”
“I have nothing to say to you on this topic.”
“So you don’t want to discuss the trial?”
“That’s correct,” he said, and hung up. He sat thinking for a long time before he
went back to his computer.
Salander followed the instructions she had received and drove her Kawasaki across
the bridge to Hedeby Island. She stopped at the first little house on the left. She
was really out in the sticks. But as long as her employer was paying, she did not
mind if she went to the North Pole. Besides, it was great to give her bike its head on
a long ride up the E4. She put the bike on its stand and loosened the strap that held
her overnight duffel bag in place.
Blomkvist opened the door and waved to her. He came out and inspected her
motorcycle with obvious astonishment.
He whistled. “You’re riding a motorbike!”
Salander said nothing, but she watched him intently as he touched the handlebars
and tried the accelerator. She did not like anyone touching her stuff. Then she saw
his childlike, boyish smile, which she took for a redeeming feature. Most people
who were into motorcycles usually laughed at her lightweight bike.
“I had a motorbike when I was nineteen,” he said, turning to her. “Thanks for
coming up. Come in and let’s get you settled.”
He had borrowed a camp bed from the Nilssons. Salander took a tour around the
cabin, looking suspicious, but she seemed to relax when she could find no
immediate signs of any insidious trap. He showed her where the bathroom was.
“In case you want to take a shower and freshen up.”
“I have to change. I am not going to wander around in my leathers.”