When they got back to the cabin they made a midnight snack and heated up the
coffee. Mikael took a look at the almost 500 pages that Dragan Armansky’s
favourite researcher had produced for him.
“You’ve done a fantastic job of digging up these facts in such a short time,” he said.
“Thanks. And thanks also for being nice enough to come up here and report on it.”
“What happens now?” Salander wanted to know.
“I’m going to talk to Dirch Frode tomorrow and arrange for your fee to be paid.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
Blomkvist looked at her.
“Well...I reckon the job I hired you for is done,” he said.
“I’m not done with this.”
Blomkvist leaned back against the kitchen wall and met her gaze. He couldn’t read
anything at all in her eyes. For half a year he had been working alone on Harriet’s
disappearance, and here was another person—an experienced researcher—who
grasped the implications. He made the decision on impulse.
“I know. This story has got under my skin too. I’ll talk to Frode. We’ll hire you for a
week or two more as...a research assistant. I don’t know if he’ll want to pay the
same rate he pays to Armansky, but we should be able to arrange a basic living
wage for you.”
Salander suddenly gave him a smile. She had no wish to be shut out and would
have gladly done the job for free.
“I’m falling asleep,” she said, and without further ado she went to her room and
closed the door.
Two minutes later she opened the door and put out her head.
“I think you’re wrong. It’s not an insane serial killer who read his Bible wrong. It’s
just a common or garden bastard who hates women.”