“Haven’t you even learned to tell the time?” Bjurman said. Salander did not reply.
She looked around. The apartment looked much as she had expected after
studying the building plans in the archives of the City Zoning Office. The light-
coloured furniture was birch and beech-wood.
“Come on,” Bjurman said in a friendlier tone. He put his arm around her shoulders
and led her down a hall into the apartment’s interior. No small talk. He opened the
door to the bedroom. There was no doubt as to what services Salander was
expected to perform.
She took a quick look around. Bachelor furnishings. A double bed with a high
bedstead of stainless steel. A low chest of drawers that also functioned as a bedside
table. Bedside lamps with muted lighting. A wardrobe with a mirror along one side.
A cane chair and a small desk in the corner next to the door. He took her by the
hand and led her to the bed.
“Tell me what you need money for this time. More computer accessories?”
“Food,” she said.
“Of course. How stupid of me. You missed our last meeting.” He placed his hand
under her chin and lifted her face so their eyes met. “How are you?”
She shrugged.
“Have you thought about what I said last time?”
“About what?”
“Lisbeth, don’t act any more stupid than you are. I want us to be good friends and
to help each other out.”
She said nothing. Advokat Bjurman resisted an impulse to give her a slap—to put
some life into her.
“Did you like our grown-up game from last time?”
“No.”
He raised his eyebrows.