“It’s time,” Martin Vanger said.
He put his hand on the strap and pulled down. Blomkvist instantly felt the noose
cutting into his neck.
“I’ve always wondered how a man tastes.”
He increased the pressure on the noose and leaned forward to kiss Blomkvist on
the lips at the same time that a cold voice cut through the room.
“Hey, you fucking creep, in this shithole I’ve got a monopoly on that one.”
Blomkvist heard Salander’s voice through a red fog. He managed to focus his eyes
enough to see her standing in the doorway. She was looking at Martin Vanger
without expression.
“No...run,” he croaked.
He could not see the look on Martin’s face, but he could almost physically feel the
shock when he turned around. For a second, time stood still. Then Martin reached
for the pistol he had left on the chair.
Salander took three swift strides forward and swung a golf club she had hidden at
her side. The iron flew in a wide arc and hit Martin on the collarbone near his
shoulder. The blow had a terrible force, and Blomkvist heard something snap.
Martin howled.
“Do you like pain, creep?” Salander said.
Her voice was as rough as sandpaper. As long as Blomkvist lived, he would never
forget her face as she went on the attack. Her teeth were bared like a beast of prey.
Her eyes were glittering, black as coal. She moved with the lightning speed of a
tarantula and seemed totally focused on her prey as she swung the club again,
striking Martin in the ribs.
He stumbled over the chair and fell. The pistol tumbled to the floor at Salander’s
feet. She kicked it away.