could be the most jaded cynic he had ever met. She’d been at Millennium for nine
years and was thriving. Henry Cortez was the youngest employee on the editorial
staff. He had come as an intern straight out of JMK two years ago, saying that he
wanted to work at Millennium and nowhere else. Berger had no budget to hire him,
but she offered him a desk in a corner and soon took him on as a permanent
dogsbody, and anon as a staff reporter.
Both uttered cries of delight. He received kisses on the cheek and pats on the back.
At once they asked him if he was returning to work. No, he had just stopped by to
say hello and have a word with the boss.
Berger was glad to see him. She asked about Vanger’s condition. Blomkvist knew
no more than what Frode could tell him: his condition was inescapably serious.
“So what are you doing in the city?”
Blomkvist was embarrassed. He had been at Milton Security, only a few streets
away, and he had decided on sheer impulse to come in. It seemed too complicated
to explain that he had been there to hire a research assistant who was a security
consultant who had hacked into his computer. Instead he shrugged and said he
had come to Stockholm on Vanger-related business, and he would have to go back
north at once. He asked how things were going at the magazine.
“Apart from the good news on the advertising and the subscription fronts, there is
one cloud on the horizon.”
“Which is?”
“Janne Dahlman.”
“Of course.”
“I had a talk with him in April, after we released the news that Henrik had become a
partner. I don’t know if it’s just Janne’s nature to be negative or if there’s something
more serious going on, if he’s playing some sort of game.”
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing I can put a finger on, rather that I no longer trust him. After we signed
the agreement with Vanger, Christer and I had to decide whether to inform the
whole staff that we were no longer at risk of going under this autumn, or...”