Armansky got up early on Sunday after hours of worrying. He padded downstairs without waking Ritva and made coffee and a sandwich. Then he opened his laptop.

He opened the report form that Milton Security used for personal investigations. He typed in as many facts as he could think of about Salander’s personality.

At 9:00 Ritva came down and poured herself coffee. She wondered what he was doing. He gave a noncommittal answer and kept writing. He was going to be a lost cause all day.

Blomkvist turned out to be wrong, probably because it was Easter weekend and police headquarters was still relatively empty. It took until Sunday morning before the media discovered that he was the one who had found Svensson and Johansson. The first to call was a reporter from Aftonbladet, an old friend.

“Hello, Blomkvist. It’s Nicklasson.”

“Hello, Nicklasson.”

“So you were the one who found the couple in Enskede.”

Blomkvist confirmed that was true.

“My source tells me they worked for Millennium.”

“Your source is part right and part wrong. Dag Svensson was doing a freelance report for Millennium. Mia Johansson wasn’t working for us.”

“Oh boy. This is a hell of a story, you’ve got to admit.”

“I know,” Blomkvist said wearily.

“Why haven’t you released a statement?”

“Dag was a colleague and a friend. We thought it would be best at least to tell his and Mia’s relatives what happened before we put out any story.”

Blomkvist knew that he wouldn’t be quoted on that point.

“That makes sense. What was Dag working on?”

“A story we commissioned.”

“What about?”

“What sort of scoop are you planning at Aftonbladet?”

“So it was a scoop.”

“Screw you, Nicklasson.”

“Oh, come on, Blomman. You think the murders had anything to do with the story Dag Svensson was working on?”

“You call me Blomman one more time, and I’m hanging up and not talking to you for the rest of the year.”

“All right, I’m sorry. Do you think Dag was murdered because of his work as an investigative journalist?”

“I have no idea why Dag was murdered.”

“Did the story he was working on have anything to do with Lisbeth Salander?”

“No. Nothing whatsoever.”

“Did Dag know that nutcase?”

“I have no idea.”

“Dag wrote a bunch of articles on computer crime recently. Was that the type of story he was writing for Millennium?”

You just won’t give up, will you? Blomkvist thought. He was about to tell Nicklasson to piss off when he sat bolt upright in bed. He had just had two great ideas. Nicklasson started to say something else.

“Hold on, Nicklasson. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Blomkvist got up and held his hand over the mouthpiece. He was suddenly on a completely different planet.

Ever since the murders, he had been racking his brains about how he could find a way to get in touch with Salander. There was a chance-a rather good chance-that she would read what he said to the newspapers, wherever she was. If he denied that he knew her, she might interpret that to mean that he had abandoned her or betrayed her. If he defended her, then other people would interpret it as meaning that he knew more about the murders than he had said. But if he made a statement in just the right way, it might give Salander an impulse to reach him.

“Sorry, I’m back. What did you say?”

“Was Dag writing about computer crime?”

“If you want a sound bite from me, I’ll give you one.”

“Go for it.”

“Only if you quote me word for word.”

“How else would I quote you?”

“I’d rather not answer that question.”

“So what do you want to say?”

“I’ll email it to you in fifteen minutes.”

“What?”

“Check your email,” Blomkvist said and hung up. He went over to his desk and booted up his iBook. He opened Word and sat there concentrating for two minutes before he started writing.

Millennium’s editor in chief, Erika Berger, is deeply shaken by the murder of freelance journalist and colleague Dag Svensson. She hopes that the murders will soon be solved.

It was Millennium’s publisher, Mikael Blomkvist, who discovered Dag Svensson and his girlfriend murdered last Wednesday night.

“Dag Svensson was a fantastically gifted journalist and a person I liked a lot. He had proposed several ideas for articles. Among other things, he was working on a major investigation into illegal computer hacking,” Mikael Blomkvist tells Aftonbladet.

Neither Blomkvist nor Berger will speculate about who might be guilty of the murders, or what motive might lie behind them.

Blomkvist picked up the telephone and called Berger.

“Hi, Ricky. You’ve just been interviewed by Aftonbladet.”

“Do tell.”

He read her the quote.

“How come?”

“Every word is true. Dag has worked freelance for ten years, and one of his specializations was computer security. I discussed it with him many times, and we were considering running an article by him on it when we finished the trafficking story. And do you know anyone else who is interested in hacking?”

Berger realized what he was trying to do.

“Smart, Micke. Damned smart. OK. Run it.”

Nicklasson called back a minute after he got Blomkvist’s email.

“That’s not much of a sound bite.”

“That’s all you’re getting, and it’s more than any other paper will get. You run the whole quote or nothing.”

Blomkvist went back to his iBook. He thought for a minute and then wrote:

Dear Lisbeth,

I’m writing this letter and leaving it on my hard drive knowing that sooner or later you’ll read it. I remember the way you took over Wennerström’s hard drive two years ago and suspect that you also made sure to hack my machine. It’s clear that you don’t want to have anything to do with me now. I don’t intend to ask why and you don’t have to explain.

The events of the past few days have linked us again, whether you like it or not. The police are saying that you murdered two people I was very fond of. I was the one who discovered Dag and Mia minutes after they were shot. I don’t think it was you who shot them. I certainly hope it wasn’t. The police claim you’re a psychotic killer, but that would mean that I totally misjudged you or that you’ve changed dramatically over the past year. And if you’re not the murderer, then the police are chasing the wrong person.

In this situation I should probably urge you to turn yourself in to the police, but I suspect I’d be wasting my breath. Sooner or later you’re going to be found, and when that happens you’re going to need a friend. You may not want to have anything to do with me, but I have a sister called Annika Giannini and she’s a lawyer. The best. She’s willing to represent you if you get in touch with her. You can trust her.

As far as Millennium is concerned, we’ve begun our own investigation into why Dag and Mia were murdered. What I’m doing right now is putting together a list of the people who had reason to want to silence Dag. I don’t know if I’m on the right track, but I’m going to check the list one person at a time.

One problem I have is that I don’t understand how Nils Bjurman fits into the picture. He isn’t mentioned anywhere in Dag’s material, and I can’t fathom any connection between him and Dag and Mia.

Help me. Please. What’s the connection?

Mikael.

P.S. You should get a new passport photo. That one doesn’t do you justice.

He named the document [To Sally]. Then he created a folder that he named and put an icon for it on the desktop of his iBook.

On Tuesday morning Armansky called a meeting in his office at Milton Security. He had brought in three people.

Johan Fräklund, a former criminal inspector with the Solna police, was the chief of Milton ’s operations unit. He had overall responsibility for planning and analysis. Armansky had recruited him ten years earlier and had come to regard him, now in his early sixties, as one of the company’s most valuable assets.