SalanderhadnodifficultyunderstandingtheagitateddebatethathadfollowedinthetradepublicationTheJournalist,certainfinancialnewspapers,andonthefrontpagesandinthebusinesssectionsofthedailypapers.Eventhoughonlyafewreporterswerementionedbynameinthe,Salanderguessedthatthefieldwassmallenoughthateveryonewouldknowexactlywhichindividualswerebeingreferredtowhenvariousnewspaperswerequoted.Blomkvisthadmadehimselfsomebitterenemies,whichwasalsoreflectedinthemaliciousmentstothecourtintheWennerstr?maffair.
Sheclosedtheandlookedatthephotographontheback.Blomkvist’sdarkblondshockofhairfellabitcarelesslyacrosshisforehead,asifcaughtinagustofwind.OrasifChristerMalmhadposedhim.Hewaslookingintothecamerawithanironicsmileandanexpressionperhapsaimingtobecharmingandboyish.Averygood-lookingman.Onhiswaytodothreemonthsintheslammer.
“Hello,KalleBlomkvist,”shesaidtoherself.“You’reprettypleasedwithyourself,aren’tyou?”
AtlunchtimeSalanderbootedupheriandopenedEudoratowriteanemail.Shetyped:“Haveyougottime?”ShesigneditWaspandsentittotheaddressTobeonthesafeside,sheranthemessagethroughherPGPencryptionprogramme.
Thensheputonblackjeans,heavywinterboots,awarmpoloshirt,adarkpeajacketandmatchingknittedgloves,cap,andscarf.Shetooktheringsoutofhereyebrowsandnostril,putonapalepinklipstick,andexaminedherselfinthebathroommirror.Shelookedlikeanyotherwomanoutforaweekendstroll,andsheregardedheroutfitasappropriatecamouflageforanexpeditionbehindenemylines.ShetookthetunnelbanafromZinkensdammto?stermalmstandwalkeddowntowardsStrandv?gen.Shesaunteredalongthecentralreservereadingthenumbersonthebuildings.ShehadalmostgottoDjurg?rdsBridgewhenshestoppedandlookedatthedoorshehadbeensearchingfor.Shecrossedthestreetandwaitedafewfeetfromthestreetdoor.
ShenoticedthatmostpeoplewhowereoutwalkinginthecoldweatheronthedayafterChristmaswerewalkingalongthequay;onlyafewwereonthepavementside.
ShehadtowaitforalmosthalfanhourbeforeanoldwomanwithacaneapproachedfromthedirectionofDjurg?rden.Thewomanstoppe