“That depends on how the healing progresses. But count on two weeks before we can start you on some sort of physical therapy.”

She gave him a long look. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette, would you?” she said.

Dr Jonasson burst out laughing and shook his head. “Sorry. There’s no smoking allowed in the hospital. But I can see to it that you get a nicotine patch or some gum.”

She thought for a moment before she looked at him again. “How’s the old bastard doing?”

“Who? You mean-”

“The one who came in the same time as I did.”

“No friend of yours, I presume. Well, he’s going to survive and he’s been up walking around on crutches. He’s actually in worse shape than you are, and he has a very painful facial wound. As I understood it, you slammed an axe into his head.”

“He tried to kill me,” Salander said in a low voice.

“That doesn’t sound good. I have to go. Do you want me to come back and look in on you again?”

Salander thought for a moment, then she signalled yes. When he was gone she stared at the ceiling. Zalachenko has been given crutches. That was the sound I heard last night.

Sandberg, the youngest person at the meeting, was sent out to get some food. He came back with sushi and light beer and passed the food around the conference table. Gullberg felt a thrill of nostalgia. This is just the way it was in his day, when some operation went into a critical phase and they had to work around the clock.

The difference, he observed, was possibly that in his day there was nobody who would have come up with the wild idea of ordering raw fish. He wished Sandberg had ordered Swedish meatballs with mashed potatoes and lingonberries. On the other hand he was not really hungry, so he pushed the sushi aside. He ate a piece of bread and drank some mineral water.

They continued the discussion over their meal. They had to decide what to do. The situation was urgent.

“I never knew Zalachenko,” Wadensjöö said. “What was he like?”

“Much as he is today, I assume,” Gullberg said. “Phenomenally intelligent, with a damn near photographic memory. But in my opinion he’s a pig. And not quite right in the head, I should think.”

“Jonas, you talked to him yesterday. What’s your take on this?” Wadensjöö said.

Sandberg put down his chopsticks.

“He’s got us over a barrel. I’ve already told you about his ultimatum. Either we make the whole thing disappear, or he cracks the Section wide open.”

“How the hell do we make something disappear that’s been plastered all over the media?” Nyström said.

“It’s not a question of what we can or can’t do. It’s a question of his need to control us,” Gullberg said.

“Would he, in your opinion, talk to the press?” Wadensjöö said.

Gullberg hesitated. “It’s almost impossible to answer that question. Zalachenko doesn’t make empty threats, and he’s going to do what’s best for him. In that respect he’s predictable. If it benefits him to talk to the media… if he thought he could get an amnesty or a reduced sentence, then he’d do it. Or if he felt betrayed and wanted to get even.”

“Regardless of the consequences?”

“Especially regardless of the consequences. For him the point is to be seen to be tougher than all of us.”

“If Zalachenko were to talk, it’s not certain that anyone would believe him. And to prove anything they’d have to get hold of our archives.”

“Do you want to take the chance? Let’s say Zalachenko talks. Who’s going to talk next? What do we do if Björck signs an affidavit confirming his story? And Clinton, sitting at his dialysis machine… what would happen if he turned religious and felt bitter about everything and everyone? What if he wanted to make a confession? Believe me, if anyone starts talking, it’s the end of the Section.”

“So… what should we do?”

Silence settled over the table. It was Gullberg who took up the thread.

“There are several parts to this problem. First of all, we can agree on what the consequences would be if Zalachenko talked. The entire legal system would come crashing down on our heads. We would be demolished. My guess is that several employees of the Section would go to prison.”

“Our activity is completely legal… we’re actually working under the auspices of the government.”

“Spare me the bullshit,” Gullberg said. “You know as well as I do that a loosely formulated document that was written in the mid-’60s isn’t worth a damn today. I don’t think any one of us could even imagine what would happen if Zalachenko talked.”

Silence descended once again.

“So our starting point has to be to persuade Zalachenko to keep his mouth shut,” Nyström said at last.

“And to be able to persuade him to keep his mouth shut, we have to be able to offer him something substantial. The problem is that he’s unpredictable. He would scorch us out of sheer malice. We have to think about how we can keep him in check.”

“And what about his demand…,” Sandberg said, “that we make the whole thing disappear and put Salander back in an asylum?”

“Salander we can handle. It’s Zalachenko who’s the problem. But that leads us to the second part – damage control. Teleborian’s report from 1991 has been leaked, and it’s potentially as serious a threat as Zalachenko.”

Nyström cleared his throat. “As soon as we realized that the report was out and in the hands of the police, I took certain measures. I went through Forelius, our lawyer in S.I.S., and he got hold of the Prosecutor General. The P.G. ordered the report confiscated from the police – it’s not to be disseminated or copied.”

“How much does the P.G. know?” Gullberg said.

“Not a thing. He’s acting on an official request from S.I.S. It’s classified material and the P.G. has no alternative.”

“Who in the police has read the report?”

“There were two copies which were read by Bublanski, his colleague Inspector Modig, and finally the preliminary investigation leader, Richard Ekström. We can assume that another two police officers…,” Nyström leafed through his notes, “… that Curt Andersson and Jerker Holmberg at least, are aware of the contents.”

“So, four police officers and one prosecutor. What do we know about them?”

“Prosecutor Ekström, forty-two, regarded as a rising star. He’s been an investigator at Justice and has handled a number of cases that got a fair bit of attention. Zealous. P.R.-savvy. Careerist.”

“Social Democrat?” Gullberg said.

“Probably. But not active.”

“So Bublanski is leading the investigation. I saw him in a press conference on T. V. He didn’t seem comfortable in front of the cameras.”

“He’s older and has an exceptional record, but he also has a reputation for being crusty and obstinate. He’s Jewish and quite conservative.”

“And the woman… who’s she?”

“Sonja Modig. Married, thirty-nine, two kids. Has advanced rather quickly in her career. I talked to Teleborian, who described her as emotional. She asks questions non-stop.”

“Next.”

“Andersson is a tough customer. He’s thirty-eight and comes from the gangs unit in Söder. He landed in the spotlight when he shot dead some hooligan a couple of years ago. Acquitted of all charges, according to the report. He was the one Bublanski sent to arrest Björck.”

“I see. Keep in mind that he shot someone dead. If there’s any reason to cast doubt on Bublanski’s group, we can always single him out as a rogue policeman. I assume we still have relevant media contacts. And the last guy?”

“Holmberg, fifty-five. Comes from Norrland and is in fact a specialist in crime scene investigation. He was offered supervisory training a few years ago but turned it down. He seems to like his job.”

“Are any of them politically active?”

“No. Holmberg’s father was a city councillor for the Centre Party in the ’70s.”

“It seems to be a modest group. We can assume they’re fairly tight-knit. Could we isolate them somehow?”