The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (62 page)

He paused to let the words sink in. No-one asked any questions.

“The past year has been rough. I’m surprised and proud that none of you has reconsidered and found a job somewhere else. I have to assume that either you’re stark raving mad or wonderfully loyal and actually enjoy working on this magazine. That’s why I’m going to lay the cards on the table and ask you for one last effort.”

“One
last
effort?” Nilsson said. “That sounds as if you’re thinking of shutting down the magazine.”

“Exactly, Monika,” Blomkvist said. “And thank you for that. When she gets back Erika is going to gather us all together for a gloomy editorial meeting and to tell us that
Millennium
will fold at Christmas and that you’re all fired.”

Now alarm began spreading through the group. Even Malm thought for a moment that Blomkvist was serious. Then they all noticed his broad smile.

“What you have to do this autumn is play a double game. The disagreeable fact is that our dear managing editor, Janne Dahlman, is moonlighting as an informer for Hans-Erik Wennerström. This means that the enemy is being kept informed of exactly what’s going on in our editorial offices. This explains a number of setbacks we’ve experienced. You especially, Sonny, when advertisers who seemed positive pulled out without warning.”

Dahlman had never been popular in the office, and the revelation was apparently not a shock to anyone. Blomkvist cut short the murmuring that started up.

“The reason that I’m telling you this is because I have absolute confidence in all of you. I know that you’ve all got your heads screwed on straight. That’s why I also know that you’ll play along with what takes place this autumn. It’s very important that Wennerström believes that
Millennium
is on the verge of collapse. It will be your job to make sure he does.”

“What’s our real situation?” Cortez said.

“OK, here it is: by all accounts
Millennium
should be on its way to the grave. I give you my word that that’s not going to happen.
Millennium
is stronger today than it was a year ago. When this meeting is over, I’m going to disappear again for about two months. Towards the end of October I’ll be back. Then we’re going to clip Wennerström’s wings.”

“How are we going to do that?” Nilsson said.

“Sorry, Monika. I don’t want to give you the details, but I’m writing a new story, and this time we’re going to do it right. I’m thinking of having roast Wennerström for the Christmas party and various critics for dessert.”

The mood turned cheerful. Blomkvist wondered how he would have felt if he were one of them sitting listening to all this. Dubious? Most likely. But apparently he still had some “trust capital” among
Millennium
’s small group of employees. He held up his hand.

“If this is going to work, it’s important that Wennerström believes that
Millennium
is on the verge of collapse because I don’t want him to start some sort of retaliation or indeed get rid of the evidence which we mean to expose. So we’re going to start writing a script that you’ll follow during the coming months. First of all, it’s important that nothing we discuss here today is written down or is referred to in emails. We don’t know to what if any extent Dahlman has been digging around in our computers, and I’ve become aware that it’s alarmingly simple to read coworkers’ private email. So—we’re going to do this orally. If you feel the need to air anything, go and see Christer at home. Very discreetly.”

Blomkvist wrote “no email” on the whiteboard.

“Second, I want you to start squabbling among yourselves, complaining about me when Dahlman is around. Don’t exaggerate. Just give your natural bitchy selves full rein. Christer, I want you and Erika to have a serious disagreement. Use your imagination and be secretive about the cause.”

He wrote “start bitching” on the whiteboard.

“Third, when Erika comes home, her job will be to see to it that Janne Dahlman thinks our agreement with the Vanger Corporation—which is in fact giving us its full support—has fallen through because Henrik Vanger is seriously ill and Martin Vanger died in a car crash.”

He wrote the word “disinformation.”

“But the agreement really is solid?” Nilsson said.

“Believe me,” Blomkvist said, “the Vanger Corporation will go to great lengths to ensure that
Millennium
survives. In a few weeks, let’s say at the end of August, Erika will call a meeting to warn you about layoffs. You all know that it’s a scam, and that the only one who’s going to be leaving is Dahlman. But start talking about looking for new jobs and say what a lousy reference it is to have
Millennium
on your C.V.”

“And you really think that this game will end up saving
Millennium
?” Magnusson said.

“I know it will. And Sonny, I want you to put together a fake report each month showing falling advertising sales and showing that the number of subscribers has also dropped.”

“This sounds fun,” Nilsson said. “Should we keep it internal here in the office, or should we leak it to other media too?”

“Keep it internal. If the story shows up anywhere, we’ll know who put it there. In a very few months, if anyone asks us about it, we’ll be able to tell them: you’ve been listening to baseless rumours, and we’ve never considered closing
Millennium
down. The best thing that could happen is for Dahlman to go out and tip off the other mass media. If you’re able to give Dahlman a tip about a plausible but fundamentally idiotic story, so much the better.”

They spent an hour concocting a script and dividing up the various roles.

After the meeting Blomkvist had coffee with Malm at Java on Horngatspuckeln.

“Christer, it’s really important that you pick up Erika at the airport and fill her in. You have to convince her to play along with the game. If I know her, she’ll want to confront Dahlman instantly—but that can’t happen. I don’t want Wennerström to hear any kind of buzz and then manage to bury the evidence.”

“Will do.”

“And see to it that Erika stays away from her email until she installs the PGP encryption programme and learns how to use it. It’s pretty likely that through Dahlman, Wennerström is able to read everything we email to each other. I want you and everyone else in the editorial offices to install PGP. Do it in a natural way. Get the name of a computer consultant to contact and have him come over to inspect the network and all the computers in the office. Let him install the software as if it were a perfectly natural part of the service.”

“I’ll do my best. But Mikael—what
are
you working on?”

“Wennerström.”

“What exactly?”

“For the time being, that has to remain my secret.”

Malm looked uncomfortable. “I’ve always trusted you, Mikael. Does this mean that you don’t trust me?”

Blomkvist laughed.

“Of course I trust you. But right now I’m involved in rather serious criminal activities that could get me two years in prison. It’s the nature of my research that’s a little dubious…I’m playing with the same underhand methods as Wennerström uses. I don’t want you or Erika or anyone else at
Millennium
to be involved in any way.”

“You’re making me awfully nervous.”

“Stay cool, Christer, and tell Erika that the story is going to be a big one. Really big.”

“Erika will insist on knowing what you’re working on…”

Mikael thought for a second. Then he smiled.

“Tell her that she made it very clear to me in the spring when she signed a contract with Henrik Vanger behind my back that I’m now just an ordinary mortal freelancer who no longer sits on the board and has no influence on
Millennium
policy. Which means that I no longer have any obligation to keep her informed. But I promise that if she behaves herself, I’ll give her first option on the story.”

“She’s going to go through the roof,” Malm said cheerfully.

Blomkvist knew that he had not been entirely honest with Malm. He was deliberately avoiding Berger. The most natural thing would have been to contact her at once and tell her about the information in his possession. But he did not want to talk to her. A dozen times he had stood with his mobile in his hand, starting to call her. Each time he changed his mind.

He knew what the problem was. He could not look her in the eyes.

The cover-up in which he had participated in Hedestad was unforgivable from a professional point of view. He had no idea how he could explain it to her without lying, and if there was one thing he had never thought of doing, it was lying to Erika Berger.

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.

From <
[email protected]
>

To <
[email protected]
>:

Hi Ricky. No, for God’s sake, I’m not cross. Forgive me for not keeping you updated, but the past few months of my life have been topsy-turvy. I’ll tell you everything when we see each other, but not by email. I’m at Sandhamn. There is a story, but the story is not Harriet Vanger. I’m going to be glued to my computer here for a while. Then it’ll be over. Trust me. Hugs and kisses. M.

From <
[email protected]
>

To <
[email protected]
>:

Sandhamn? I’m coming to see you immediately.