Above all, he did not have the energy to deal with that problem at the same time as
he was tackling Wennerström. So he put off seeing her, turned off his mobile, and
avoided talking to her. But he knew that the reprieve could only be temporary.
Right after the editorial meeting, Mikael moved out to his cabin in Sandhamn; he
hadn’t been there in over a year. His baggage included two boxes of printouts and
the CDs that Salander had given him. He stocked up on food, locked the door,
opened his iBook, and started writing. Each day he took a short walk, bought the
newspapers, and shopped for groceries. The guest marina was still filled with
yachts, and young people who had borrowed their father’s boat were usually
sitting in the Divers’ Bar, drinking themselves silly. Blomkvist scarcely took in his
surroundings. He sat in front of his computer more or less from the moment he
opened his eyes until he fell into bed at night, exhausted.
Encrypted email from editor in chief [email protected] to publisher on
leave of absence [email protected]: Mikael. I want to know what’s
going on—good grief, I’ve come back from holiday to total chaos. The news about
Janne Dahlman and this double game you’ve come up with. Martin Vanger dead.
Harriet Vanger alive. What’s going on in Hedeby? Where are you? Is there a story?
Why don’t you answer your mobile?/E.
P.S. I understood the insinuation that Christer relayed with such glee. You’re going
to have to eat your words. Are you seriously cross with me?
P.P.S. I am trusting you for the time being, but you are going to have to give
proof—you remember, the stuff that stands up in court—on J.D.