“Could I have some water?” Blomkvist said.
Martin leaned down and let him take a good long drink from the bottle. Blomkvist
swallowed greedily.
“Thanks.”
“Still so polite, Kalle Blomkvist.”
“Why all the punching and kicking?” Blomkvist said.
“Because you make me very angry indeed. You deserve to be punished. Why didn’t
you just go home? You were needed at Millennium. I was serious—we could have
made it into a great magazine. We could have worked together for years.”
Blomkvist grimaced and tried to shift his body into a more comfortable position. He
was defenceless. All he had was his voice.
“I assume you mean that the opportunity has passed,” Blomkvist said.
Martin Vanger laughed.
“I’m sorry, Mikael. But, of course, you know perfectly well that you’re going to die
down here.”
Blomkvist nodded.
“How the hell did you find me, you and that anorexic spook that you dragged into
this?”
“You lied about what you were doing on the day that Harriet disappeared. You
were in Hedestad at the Children’s Day parade. You were photographed there,
looking at Harriet.”
“Was that why you went to Norsjö?”
“To get the picture, yes. It was taken by a honeymoon couple who happened to be
in Hedestad.”
He shook his head.
“That’s a crass lie,” Martin said.