“I’m really pissed off,” Berger said. “I drive all the way up here to welcome you back
to freedom and find you in bed with the town femme fatale.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“How long have you and Miss Big Tits...” Berger waved her index finger.
“From about the time Vanger became part owner.”
“Aha.”
“What do you mean, aha?”
“Just curious.”
“Cecilia’s a good woman. I like her.”
“I’m not criticising. I’m just pissed off. Candy within reach and then I have to go on a
diet. How was prison?”
“Like an uneventful holiday. How are things at the magazine?”
“Better. For the first time in a year the advertising revenue is on the rise. We’re way
below this time last year, but we’ve turned the corner. Thanks to Henrik. But the
weird thing is that subscriptions are going up too.”
“They tend to fluctuate.”
“By a couple of hundred one way or the other. But we’ve picked up three thousand
in the past quarter. At first I thought it was just luck, but new subscribers keep
coming in. It’s our biggest subscription jump ever. At the same time, our existing
subscribers are renewing pretty consistently across the board. None of us can
understand it. We haven’t run any ad campaigns. Christer spent a week doing spot
checks on what sort of demographic is showing up. First, they’re all brand-new
subscribers. Second, 70 percent of them are women. Normally it’s the other way
around. Third, the subscribers can be described as middle-income white-collar
workers from the suburbs: teachers, middle management, civil service workers.”
“Think it’s the middle-class revolt against big capital?”