“I told you she was sharp.” He turned to Berger. “I presume that Mikael has
explained to you what he’s working on here in Hedeby.”
She nodded.
“And I presume you think it’s a senseless undertaking. No, you don’t have to answer
that. It is an absurd and senseless task. But I have to find out.”
“I have no opinion on the matter,” Berger said diplomatically.
“Of course you do.” He turned to Blomkvist. “Tell me. Have you found anything at
all that might take us forward?”
Blomkvist avoided meeting Vanger’s gaze. He thought instantly of the cold,
unplaceable certainty he had had the night before. The feeling had been with him
all day, but he had had no time to work his way through the album again. At last he
looked up at Vanger and shook his head.
“I haven’t found a single thing.”
The old man scrutinised him with a penetrating look. He refrained from
commenting.
“I don’t know about you young people,” he said, “but for me it’s time to go to bed.
Thank you for dinner, Cecilia. Good night, Erika. Do see me before you leave
tomorrow.”
When Vanger had closed the front door, silence settled over them. It was Cecilia
who spoke first.
“Mikael, what was all that about?”
“It means that Henrik is as sensitive to people’s reactions as a seismograph. Last
night when you came to the cottage I was looking through an album.”
“Yes?”
“I saw something. I don’t know what it was yet. It was something that almost
became an idea, but I missed it.”