ce,almostasifthephotographerhadsurprisedher.Inthesecondpictureshewaspletelynaked.Shewaslyingonherstomachonabluebedspread.Herfacewasstillturnedawayfromthecamera.
Salanderstuffedtheenvelopewiththepicturesintoherjacketpocket.Afterthatshecarriedthebindersovertothewoodstoveandstruckamatch.Whenshewasdonewiththefire,shestirredtheashes.Itwaspouringdownwithrainwhenshetookashortwalkand,kneelingasiftotieashoelace,discreetlydroppedMartinVanger’slaptopintothewaterunderthebridge.
WhenFrodemarchedthroughtheopendoorat7:30thatmorning,Salanderwasatthekitchentablesmokingacigaretteanddrinkingcoffee.Frode’sfacewasashen,andhelookedasifhehadhadacruelawakening.
“Where’sMikael?”hesaid.
“He’sstillasleep.”
Frodesatdownheavilyonakitchenchair.Salanderpouredcoffeeandpushedthecupovertohim.
“Martin…IjustfoundoutthatMartinwaskilledinacaraidentlastnight.”
“That’ssad,”Salandersaid,takingasipofherowncoffee.
Frodelookedup.Atfirsthestaredather,unprehending.Thenhiseyesopenedwide.
“What…?”
“Hecrashed.Howannoying.”
“Whatdoyouknowaboutthis?”
“Hedrovehiscarrightintothefrontofatruck.Hemittedsuicide.Thepress,thestress,aflounderingfinancialempire,dot,dot,dot,toomuchforhim.Atleastthat’swhatIsupposeitwillsayontheplacards.”
Frodelookedasifhewereabouttohaveacerebralhaemorrhage.Hestoodupswiftlyandwalkedunsteadilytothebedroom.
“Lethimsleep,”Salandersnapped.
Frodelookedatthesleepingfigure.HesawtheblackandbluemarksonBlomkvist’sfaceandthecontusionsonhischest.Thenhesawtheflaminglinewherethenoosehadbeen.Salandertouchedhisarmandclosedthedoor.Frodebackedoutandsankontothekitchenbench.
LisbethSalandertoldhimsuinctlywhathadhappenedduringthenight.ShetoldhimwhatMartinVanger’schamberofhorrorslookedlikeandhowshehadfoundMikaelwithanoosearoundhisneckandtheCEOoftheVangerCorporationstandinginfrontofhisnakedbody.Shetoldhimwhatshehadfoundinthepany’sarchivesthedaybeforeandhowshehadestablishedapossiblelinkbetweenMartin’sfatheran