Saturday, 7.v – Thursday, 12.v Blomkvist put his laptop case on the desk. It contained the findings of Olsson, the stringer in G?teborg. He watched the flow of people on G?tgatan. That was one of the things he liked best about his office. G?tgatan was full of life at all hours of the day and night, and when he sat by the window he never felt isolated1, never alone. He was under great pressure. He had kept working on the articles that were to go into the summer issue, but he had finally realized that there was so much material that not even an issue devoted2 entirely3 to the topic would be sufficient. He had ended up in the same situation as during the Wennerstr?m affair, and he had again decided4 to publish all the articles as a book. He had enough text already for 150 pages, and he reckoned that the final book would run to 320 or 336 pages. The easy part was done. He had written about the murders of Svensson and Johansson and described how he happened to be the one who came upon the scene. He had dealt with why Salander had become a suspect. He spent a chapter debunking5 first what the press had written about Salander, then what Prosecutor6 Ekstr?m had claimed, and thereby7 indirectly8 the entire police investigation9. After long deliberation he had toned down his criticism of Bublanski and his team. He did this after studying a video from Ekstr?m’s press conference, in which it was clear that Bublanski was uncomfortable in the extreme and obviously annoyed at Ekstr?m’s rapid conclusions. After the introductory drama, he had gone back in time and described Zalachenko’s arrival in Sweden, Salander’s childhood, and the events that led to her being locked away in St Stefan’s in Uppsala. He was careful to annihilate10 both Teleborian and the now dead Bj?rck. He rehearsed the psychiatric report of 1991 and explained why Salander had become a threat to certain unknown civil servants who had taken it upon themselves to protect the Russian defector. He quoted from the correspondence between Teleborian and Bj?rck. He then described Zalachenko’s new identity and his criminal operations. He described his assistant Niedermann, the kidnapping of Miriam Wu, and Paolo Roberto’s intervention11. Finally, he summed up the dénouement in Gosseberga which led to Salander being shot and buried alive, and explained how a policeman’s death was a needless catastrophe12 because Niedermann had already been shackled13. Thereafter the story became more sluggish14. Blomkvist’s problem was that the account still had gaping15 holes in it. Bj?rck had not acted alone. Behind this chain of events there had to be a larger group with resources and political influence. Anything else did not make sense. But he had eventually come to the conclusion that the unlawful treatment of Salander would not have been sanctioned by the government or the bosses of the Security Police. Behind this conclusion lay no exaggerated trust in government, but rather his faith in human nature. An operation of that type could never have been kept secret if it were politically motivated. Someone would have called in a favour and got someone to talk, and the press would have uncovered the Salander affair several years earlier. He thought of the Zalachenko club as small and anonymous16. He could not identify any one of them, except possibly M?rtensson, a policeman with a secret appointment who devoted himself to shadowing the publisher of Millennium17. It was now clear that Salander would definitely go to trial. Ekstr?m had brought a charge for grievous bodily harm in the case of Magge Lundin, and grievous bodily harm or attempted murder in the case of Karl Axel Bodin. No date had yet been set, but his colleagues had learned that Ekstr?m was planning for a trial in July, depending on the state of Salander’s health. Blomkvist understood the reasoning. A trial during the peak holiday season would attract less attention than one at any other time of the year. Blomkvist’s plan was to have the book printed and ready to distribute on the first day of the trial. He and Malm had thought of a paperback18 edition, shrink-wrapped and sent out with the special summer issue. Various assignments had been given to Cortez and Eriksson, who were to produce articles on the history of the Security Police, the IB affair,* and the like. He frowned as he stared out of the window. It’s not over. The conspiracy19 is continuing. It’s the only way to explain the tapped telephones, the attack on Annika, and the double theft of the Salander report. Perhaps the murder of Zalachenko is a part of it too. But he had no evidence. Together with Eriksson and Malm, he had decided that Millennium Publishing would publish Svensson’s text about sex trafficking, also to coincide with the trial. It was better to present the package all at once, and besides, there was no reason to delay publication. On the contrary – the book would never be able to attract the same attention at any other time. Eriksson was Blomkvist’s principal assistant for the Salander book. Karim and Malm (against his will) had thus become temporary assistant editors at Millennium, with Nilsson as the only available reporter. One result of this increased workload20 was that Eriksson had had to contract several freelancers21 to produce articles for future issues. It was expensive, but they had no choice. Blomkvist wrote a note on a yellow Post-it, reminding himself to discuss the rights to the book with Svensson’s family. His parents lived in ?rebro and they were his sole heirs. He did not really need permission to publish the book in Svensson’s name, but he wanted to go and see them to get their approval. He had postponed23 the visit because he had had too much to do, but now it was time to take care of the matter. Then there were a hundred other details. Some of them concerned how he should present Salander in the articles. To make the ultimate decision he needed to have a personal conversation with her to get her approval to tell the truth, or at least parts of it. And he could not have that conversation because she was under arrest and no visitors were allowed. In that respect, his sister was no help either. Slavishly she followed the regulations and had no intention of acting24 as Blomkvist’s go-between. Nor did Giannini tell him anything of what she and her client discussed, other than the parts that concerned the conspiracy against her – Giannini needed help with those. It was frustrating25, but all very correct. Consequently Blomkvist had no clue whether Salander had revealed that her previous guardian26 had raped27 her, or that she had taken revenge by tattooing28 a shocking message on his stomach. As long as Giannini did not mention the matter, neither could he. But Salander’s being isolated presented one other acute problem. She was a computer expert, also a hacker29, which Blomkvist knew but Giannini did not. Blomkvist had promised Salander that he would never reveal her secret, and he had kept his promise. But now he had a great need for her skills in that field. Somehow he had to establish contact with her. He sighed as he opened Olsson’s folder30 again. There was a photocopy31 of a passport application form for one Idris Ghidi, born 1950. A man with a moustache, olive skin and black hair going grey at the temples. He was Kurdish, a refugee from Iraq. Olsson had dug up much more on Ghidi than on any other hospital worker. Ghidi had apparently32 aroused media attention for a time, and appeared in several articles. Born in the city of Mosul in northern Iraq, he graduated as an engineer and had been part of the “great economic leap forward” in the ’70s. In 1984 he was a teacher at the College of Construction Technology in Mosul. He had not been known as a political activist33, but he was a Kurd, and so a potential criminal in Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. In 1987 Ghidi’s father was arrested on suspicion of being a Kurdish militant34. No elaboration was forthcoming. He was executed in January 1988. Two months later Idris Ghidi was seized by the Iraqi secret police, taken to a prison outside Mosul, and tortured there for eleven months to make him confess. What he was expected to confess, Ghidi never discovered, so the torture continued. In March 1989, one of Ghidi’s uncles paid the equivalent of 50,000 Swedish kronor, to the local leader of the Ba’ath Party, as compensation for the injury Ghidi had caused the Iraqi state. Two days later he was released into his uncle’s custody35. He weighed thirty-nine kilos and was unable to walk. Before his release, his left hip36 was smashed with a sledgehammer to discourage any mischief37 in the future. He hovered38 between life and death for several weeks. When, slowly, he began to recover, his uncle took him to a farm well away from Mosul and there, over the summer, he regained39 his strength and was eventually able to walk again with crutches41. He would never regain40 full health. The question was: what was he going to do in the future? In August he learned that his two brothers had been arrested. He would never see them again. When his uncle heard that Saddam Hussein’s police were looking once more for Ghidi, he arranged, for a fee of 30,000 kronor, to get him across the border into Turkey and thence with a false passport to Europe. Idris Ghidi landed at Arlanda airport in Sweden on 19 October, 1989. He did not know a word of Swedish, but he had been told to go to the passport police and immediately to ask for political asylum42, which he did in broken English. He was sent to a refugee camp in Upplands V?sby. There he would spend almost two years, until the immigration authorities decided that Ghidi did not have sufficient grounds for a residency permit. By this time Ghidi had learned Swedish and obtained treatment for his shattered hip. He had two operations and could now walk without crutches. During that period the Sj?bo debate* had been conducted in Sweden, refugee camps had been attacked, and Bert Karlsson had formed the New Democracy Party. The reason why Ghidi had appeared so frequently in the press archives was that at the eleventh hour he came by a new lawyer who went directly to the press, and they published reports on his case. Other Kurds in Sweden got involved, including members of the prominent Baksi family. Protest meetings were held and petitions were sent to Minister of Immigration Birgit Friggebo, with the result that Ghidi was granted both a residency permit and a work visa in the kingdom of Sweden. In January 1992 he left Upplands V?sby a free man. Ghidi soon discovered that being a well-educated and experienced construction engineer counted for nothing. He worked as a newspaper boy, a dish-washer, a doorman, and a taxi driver. He liked being a taxi driver except for two things. He had no local knowledge of the streets in Stockholm county, and he could not sit still for more than an hour before the pain in his hip became unbearable43. In May 1998 he moved to G?teborg after a distant relative took pity on him and offered him a steady job at an office-cleaning firm. He was given a part-time job managing a cleaning crew at Sahlgrenska hospital, with which the company had a contract. The work was routine. He swabbed floors six days a week including, as Olsson’s ferreting had revealed, in corridor 11C. Blomkvist studied the photograph of Idris Ghidi from the passport application. Then he logged on to the media archive and picked out several of the articles on which Olsson’s report was based. He read attentively44. He lit a cigarette. The smoking ban at Millennium had soon been relaxed after Berger left. Cortez now kept an ashtray45 on his desk. Finally Blomkvist read what Olsson had produced about Dr Anders Jonasson. Blomkvist did not see the grey Volvo on Monday, nor did he have the feeling that he was being watched or followed, but he walked briskly from the Academic bookshop to the side entrance of N.K. department store, and then straight through and out of the main entrance. Anybody who could keep up surveillance inside the bustling47 N.K. would have to be superhuman. He turned off both his mobiles and walked through the Galleria to Gustav Adolfs Torg, past the parliament building, and into Gamla Stan. Just in case anyone was still following him, he took a zigzag48 route through the narrow streets of the old city until he reached the right address and knocked at the door of Black/White Publishing. It was 2.30 in the afternoon. He was there without warning, but the editor, Kurdo Baksi, was in and delighted to see him. “Hello there,” he said heartily49. “Why don’t you ever come and visit me any more?” “I’m here to see you right now,” Blomkvist said. “Sure, but it’s been three years since the last time.” They shook hands. Blomkvist had known Baksi since the ’80s. Actually, Blomkvist had been one of the people who gave Baksi practical help when he started the magazine Black/White with an issue that he produced secretly at night at the Trades Union Federation50 offices. Baksi had been caught in the act by Per-Erik ?str?m – the same man who went on to be the paedophile hunter at Save the Children – who in the ’80s was the research secretary at the Trades Union Federation. He had discovered stacks of pages from Black/White’s first issue along with an oddly subdued51 Baksi in one of the copy rooms. ?str?m had looked at the front page and said: “God Almighty52, that’s not how a magazine is supposed to look.” After that ?str?m had designed the logo that was on Black/White’s masthead for fifteen years before Black/White magazine went to its grave and became the book publishing house Black/White. At the same time Blomkvist had been suffering through an appalling53 period as I.T. consultant54 at the Trades Union Federation – his only venture into the I.T. field. ?str?m had enlisted55 him to proofread56 and give Black/White some editorial support. Baksi and Blomkvist had been friends ever since. Blomkvist sat on a sofa while Baksi got coffee from a machine in the hallway. They chatted for a while, the way you do when you haven’t seen someone for some time, but they were constantly being interrupted by Baksi’s mobile. He would have urgent-sounding conversations in Kurdish or possibly Turkish or Arabic or some other language that Blomkvist did not understand. It had always been this way on his other visits to Black/White Publishing. People called from all over the world to talk to Baksi. “My dear Mikael, you look worried. What’s on your mind?” he said at last. “Could you turn off your telephone for a few minutes?” Baksi turned off his telephone. “I need a favour. A really important favour, and it has to be done immediately and cannot be mentioned outside this room.” “Tell me.” “In 1989 a refugee by the name of Idris Ghidi came to Sweden from Iraq. When he was faced with the prospect57 of deportation58, he received help from your family until he was granted a residency permit. I don’t know if it was your father or somebody else in the family who helped him.” “It was my uncle Mahmut. I know Ghidi. What’s going on?” “He’s working in G?teborg. I need his help to do a simple job. I’m willing to pay him.” “What kind of job?” “Do you trust me, Kurdo?” “Of course. We’ve always been friends.” “The job I need done is very odd. I don’t want to say what it entails59 right now, but I assure you it’s in no way illegal, nor will it cause any problems for you or for Ghidi.” Baksi gave Blomkvist a searching look. “You don’t want to tell me what it’s about?” “The fewer people who know, the better. But I need your help for an introduction – so that Idris will listen to me.” Baksi went to his desk and opened an address book. He looked through it for a minute before he found the number. Then he picked up the telephone. The conversation was in Kurdish. Blomkvist could see from Baksi’s expression that he started out with words of greeting and small talk before he got serious and explained why he was calling. After a while he said to Blomkvist: “When do you want to meet him?” “Friday afternoon, if that would work. Ask if I can visit him at home.” Baksi spoke60 for a short while before he hung up. “Idris lives in Angered,” he said. “Do you have the address?” Blomkvist nodded. “He’ll be home by 5.00 on Friday afternoon. You’re welcome to visit him there.” “Thanks, Kurdo.” “He works at Sahlgrenska hospital as a cleaner,” Baksi said. “I know.” “I couldn’t help reading in the papers that you’re mixed up in this Salander story.” “That’s right.” “She was shot.” “Yes.” “I heard she’s at Sahlgrenska.” “That’s also true.” Baksi knew that Blomkvist was busy planning some sort of mischief, which was what he was famous for doing. He had known him since the ’80s. They might not have been best friends, but they never argued either, and Blomkvist had never hesitated if Baksi asked him a favour. “Am I going to get mixed up in something I ought to know about?” “You’re not going to get involved. Your role was only to do me the kindness of introducing me to one of your acquaintances. And, I repeat, I won’t ask him to do anything illegal.” This assurance was enough for Baksi. Blomkvist stood up. “I owe you one.” “We always owe each other one.” Cortez put down the telephone and drummed so loudly with his fingertips on the edge of his desk that Nilsson glared at him. But she could see that he was lost in his own thoughts, and since she was feeling irritated in general she decided not to take it out on him. She knew that Blomkvist was doing a lot of whispering with Cortez and Eriksson and Malm about the Salander story, while she and Karim were expected to do all the spadework for the next issue of a magazine that had not had any real leadership since Berger left. Eriksson was fine, but she lacked experience and the gravitas of Berger. And Cortez was just a young whippersnapper. Nilsson was not unhappy that she had been passed over, nor did she want their jobs – that was the last thing she wanted. Her own job was to keep tabs on the government departments and parliament on behalf of Millennium. It was a job she enjoyed, and she knew it inside out. Besides, she had had it up to here with other work, like writing a column in a trade journal every week, or various volunteer tasks for Amnesty International and the like. She was not interested in being editor-in-chief of Millennium and working a minimum of twelve hours a day as well as sacrificing her weekends. She did, however, feel that something had changed at Millennium. The magazine suddenly felt foreign. She could not put her finger on what was wrong. As always, Blomkvist was irresponsible and kept vanishing on another of his mysterious trips, coming and going as he pleased. He was one of the owners of Millennium, fair enough, he could decide for himself what he wanted to do, but Jesus, a little sense of responsibility would not hurt. Malm was the other current part-owner, and he was about as much help as he was when he was on holiday. He was talented, no question, and he could step in and take over the reins61 when Berger was away or busy, but usually he just followed through with what other people had already decided. He was brilliant at anything involving graphic62 design or presentations, but he was right out of his depth when it came to planning a magazine. Nilsson frowned. No, she was being unfair. What bothered her was that something had happened at the office. Blomkvist was working with Eriksson and Cortez, and the rest of them were somehow excluded. Those three had formed an inner circle and were always shutting themselves in Berger’s office … well, Eriksson’s office, and then they’d all come trooping out in silence. Under Berger’s leadership the magazine had always been a collective. Blomkvist was working on the Salander story and would not share any part of it. But this was nothing new. He had not said a word about the Wennerstr?m story either – not even Berger had known – but this time he had two confidants. In a word, Nilsson was pissed off. She needed a holiday. She needed to get away for a while. Then she saw Cortez putting on his corduroy jacket. “I’m going out for a while,” he said. “Could you tell Malin that I’ll be back in two hours?” “What’s going on?” “I think I’ve got a lead on a story. A really good story. About toilets. I want to check a few things, but if this pans out we’ll have a fantastic article for the June issue.” “Toilets,” Nilsson muttered. “A likely story.” Berger clenched63 her teeth and put down the article about the forthcoming Salander trial. It was short, two columns, intended for page five under national news. She looked at the text for a minute and pursed her lips. It was 3.30 on Thursday. She had been working at S.M.P. for exactly twelve days. She picked up the telephone and called Holm, the news editor. “Hello, it’s Berger. Could you find Johannes Frisk and bring him to my office asap?” She waited patiently until Holm sauntered into the glass cage with the reporter Frisk in tow. Berger looked at her watch. “Twenty-two,” she said. “Twenty-two what?” said Holm. “Twenty-two minutes. That’s how long it’s taken you to get up from the editorial desk, walk the fifteen metres to Frisk’s desk, and drag yourself over here with him.” “You said there was no rush. I was pretty busy.” “I did not say there was no rush. I asked you to get Frisk and come to my office. I said asap, and I meant asap, not tonight or next week or whenever you feel like getting your arse out of your chair.” “But I don’t think—” “Shut the door.” She waited until Holm had closed the door behind him and studied him in silence. He was without doubt a most competent news editor. His role was to make sure that the pages of S.M.P. were filled every day with the correct text, logically organized, and appearing in the order and position they had decided on in the morning meeting. This meant that Holm was juggling64 a colossal65 number of tasks every day. And he did it without ever dropping a ball. The problem with him was that he persistently66 ignored the decisions Berger made. She had done her best to find a formula for working with him. She had tried friendly reasoning and direct orders, she had encouraged him to think for himself, and generally she had done everything she could think of to make him understand how she wanted the newspaper to be shaped. Nothing made any difference. An article she had rejected in the afternoon would appear in the newspaper sometime after she had gone home. We had a hole we needed to fill so I had to put in something. The headline that Berger had decided to use was suddenly replaced by something entirely different. It was not always a bad choice, but it would be done without her being consulted. As an act of defiance67. It was always a matter of details. An editorial meeting at 2.00 was suddenly moved to 1.30 without her being told, and most of the decisions were already made by the time she arrived. I’m sorry … in the rush I forgot to let you know. For the life of her, Berger could not see why Holm had adopted this attitude towards her, but she knew that calm discussions and friendly reprimands did not work. Until now she had not confronted him in front of other colleagues in the newsroom. Now it was time to express herself more clearly, and this time in front of Frisk, which would ensure that the exchange was common knowledge in no time. “The first thing I did when I started here was to tell you that I had a special interest in everything to do with Lisbeth Salander. I explained that I wanted information in advance on all proposed articles, and that I wanted to look at and approve everything that was to be published. I’ve reminded you about this at least half a dozen times, most recently at the editorial meeting on Friday. Which part of these instructions do you not understand?” “All the articles that are planned or in production are on the daily memo68 on our intranet. They’re always sent to your computer. You’re always kept informed,” Holm said. “Bullshit,” Berger said. “When the city edition of the paper landed in my letterbox this morning we had a three-column story about Salander and the developments in the Stallarholmen incident in our best news spot.” “That was Margareta Orring’s article. She’s a freelancer22, she didn’t turn it in until 7.00 last night.” “Margareta called me with the proposal at 11.00 yesterday morning. You approved it and gave her the assignment at 11.30. You didn’t say a word about it at the two o’clock meeting.” “It’s in the daily memo.” “Oh, right … here’s what it says in the daily memo: quote, Margareta Orring, interview with Prosecutor Martina Fransson, re: narcotics69 bust46 in S?dert?lje, unquote.” “The basic story was an interview with Martina Fransson about the confiscation70 of anabolic steroids. A would-be Svavelsj? biker was busted71 for that,” Holm said. “Exactly. And not a word in the daily memo about Svavelsj? M.C., or that the interview would be focused on Magge Lundin and Stallarholmen, and therefore the investigation of Salander.” “I assume it came up during the interview—” “Anders, I don’t know why, but you’re standing72 here lying to my face. I spoke to Margareta and she said that she clearly explained to you what her interview was going to focus on.” “I must not have realized that it would centre on Salander. Then I got an article late in the evening. What was I supposed to do, kill the whole story? Orring turned in a good piece.” “There I agree with you. It’s an excellent story. But that’s now your third lie in about the same number of minutes. Orring turned it in at 3.20 in the afternoon, long before I went home at 6.00.” “Berger, I don’t like your tone of voice.” “Great. Then I can tell you that I like neither your tone nor your evasions73 nor your lies.” “It sounds as if you think I’m organizing some sort of conspiracy against you.” “You still haven’t answered the question. And item two: today this piece by Johannes shows up on my desk. I can’t recall having any discussion about it at the two o’clock meeting. Why has one of our reporters spent the day working on Salander without anybody telling me?” Frisk squirmed. He was bright enough to keep his mouth shut. “So …,” Holm said. “We’re putting out a newspaper, and there must be hundreds of articles you don’t know about. We have routines here at S.M.P. and we all have to adapt to them. I don’t have time to give special treatment to specific articles.” “I didn’t ask you to give special treatment to specific articles. I asked you for two things: first, that I be informed of everything that has a bearing on the Salander case. Second, I want to approve everything we publish on that topic. So, one more time … what part of my instructions did you not understand?” Holm sighed and adopted an exasperated74 expression. “O.K.,” Berger said. “I’ll make myself crystal clear. I am not going to argue with you about this. Just let’s see if you understand this message. If it happens again I’m going to relieve you of your job as news editor. You’ll hear bang-boom, and then you’ll find yourself editing the family page or the comics page or something like that. I cannot have a news editor that I can’t trust or work with and who devotes his precious time to undermining my decisions. Understood?” Holm threw up his hands in a gesture that indicated he considered Berger’s accusations75 to be absurd. “Do you understand me? Yes or no?” “I heard what you said.” “I asked if you understood. Yes or no?” “Do you really think you can get away with this? This paper comes out because I and the other cogs in the machinery76 work our backsides off. The board is going to—” “The board is going to do as I say. I’m here to revamp this paper. I have a carefully worded agreement that gives me the right to make far-reaching editorial changes at section editors’ level. I can get rid of the dead meat and recruit new blood from outside if I choose. And Holm … you’re starting to look like dead meat to me.” She fell silent. Holm met her gaze. He was furious. “That’s all,” Berger said. “I suggest you consider very carefully what we’ve talked about today.” “I don’t think—” “It’s up to you. That’s all. Now go.” He turned on his heel and left the glass cage. She watched him disappear into the editorial sea in the direction of the canteen. Frisk stood up and made to follow. “Not you, Johannes. You stay here and sit down.” She picked up his article and read it one more time. “You’re here on a temporary basis, I gather.” “Yes. I’ve been here five months – this is my last week.” “How old are you?” “Twenty-seven.” “I apologize for putting you in the middle of a duel77 between me and Holm. Tell me about this story.” “I got a tip this morning and took it to Holm. He told me to follow up on it.” “I see. It’s about the police investigating the possibility that Lisbeth Salander was mixed up in the sale of anabolic steroids. Does this story have any connection to yesterday’s article about S?dert?lje, in which steroids also appeared?” “Not that I know of, but it’s possible. This thing about steroids has to do with her connection to boxers78. Paolo Roberto and his pals79.” “Paolo Roberto uses steroids?” “What? No, of course not. It’s more about the boxing world in general. Salander used to train at a gym in S?der. But that’s the angle the police are taking. Not me. And somewhere the idea seems to have popped up that she might have been involved in selling steroids.” “So there’s no actual substance to this story at all, just a rumour80?” “It’s no rumour that the police are looking into the possibility. Whether they’re right or wrong, I have no idea yet.” “O.K., Johannes. I want you to know that what I’m discussing with you now has nothing to do with my dealings with Holm. I think you’re an excellent reporter. You write well and you have an eye for detail. In short, this is a good story. My problem is that I don’t believe it.” “I can assure you that it’s quite true.” “And I have to explain to you why there’s a fundamental flaw in the story. Where did the tip come from?” “From a source within the police.” “Who?” Frisk hesitated. It was an automatic response. Like every other journalist the world over, he was unwilling81 to name his source. On the other hand, Berger was editor-in-chief and therefore one of the few people who could demand that information from him. “An officer named Faste in the Violent Crimes Division.” “Did he call you or did you call him?” “He called me.” “Why do you think he called you?” “I interviewed him a couple of times during the hunt for Salander. He knows who I am.” “And he knows you’re twenty-seven and a temp and that you’re useful when he wants to plant information that the prosecutor wants put out.” “Sure, I understand all that. But I get a tip from the police investigation and go over and have a coffee with Faste and he tells me this. He is correctly quoted. What am I supposed to do?” “I’m persuaded that you quoted him accurately82. What should have happened is that you should have taken the information to Holm, who should have knocked on the door of my office and explained the situation, and together we would have decided what to do.” “I get it. But I—” “You left the material with Holm, who’s the news editor. You acted correctly. But let’s analyse your article. First of all, why would Faste want to leak this information?” Frisk shrugged83. “Does that mean that you don’t know, or that you don’t care?” “I don’t know.” “If I were to tell you that this story is untrue, and that Salander doesn’t have a thing to do with anabolic steroids, what do you say then?” “I can’t prove otherwise.” “No indeed. But you think we should publish a story that might be a lie just because we have no proof that it’s a lie.” “No, we have a journalistic responsibility. But it’s a balancing act. We can’t refuse to publish when we have a source who makes a specific claim.” “We can ask why the source might want this information to get out. Let me explain why I gave orders that everything to do with Salander has to cross my desk. I have special knowledge of the subject that no-one else at S.M.P. has. The legal department has been informed that I possess this knowledge but cannot discuss it with them. Millennium is going to publish a story that I am contractually bound not to reveal to S.M.P., despite the fact that I work here. I obtained the information in my capacity as editor-in-chief of Millennium, and right now I’m caught between two loyalties84. Do you see what I mean?” “Yes.” “What I learned at Millennium tells me that I can say without a doubt that this story is a lie, and its purpose is to damage Salander before the trial.” “It would be hard to do her any more damage, considering all the revelations that have already come out about her.” “Revelations that are largely lies and distortions. Hans Faste is one of the key sources for the claims that Salander is a paranoid and violence-prone lesbian devoted to Satanism and S. & M. And the media as a whole bought Faste’s propaganda simply because he appears to be a serious source and it’s always cool to write about S. & M. And now he’s trying a new angle which will put her at a disadvantage in the public consciousness, and which he wants S.M.P. to help disseminate85. Sorry, but not on my watch.” “I understand.” “Do you? Good. Then I can sum up everything I said in two sentences. Your job description as a journalist is to question and scrutinize86 most critically. And never to repeat claims uncritically, no matter how highly placed the sources in the bureaucracy. Don’t ever forget that. You’re a terrific writer, but that talent is completely worthless if you forget your job description.” “Right.” “I intend to kill this story.” “I understand.” “This doesn’t mean that I distrust you.” “Thank you.” “So that’s why I’m sending you back to your desk with a proposal for a new story.” “Alright.” “The whole thing has to do with my contract with Millennium. I’m not allowed to reveal what I know about the Salander story. At the same time I’m editor-in-chief of a newspaper that’s in danger of skidding87 because the newsroom doesn’t have the information that I have. And we can’t allow that to happen. This is a unique situation and applies only to Salander. That’s why I’ve decided to choose a reporter and steer88 him in the right direction so that we won’t end up with our trousers down when Millennium comes out.” “And you think that Millennium will be publishing something noteworthy about Salander?” “I don’t think so, I know so. Millennium is sitting on a scoop89 that will turn the Salander story on its head, and it’s driving me crazy that I can’t go public with it.” “You say you’re rejecting my article because you know that it isn’t true. That means there’s something in the story that all the other reporters have missed.” “Exactly.” “I’m sorry, but it’s difficult to believe that the entire Swedish media has been duped in the same way …” “Salander has been the object of a media frenzy90. That’s when normal rules no longer apply, and any drivel can be posted on a billboard91.” “So you’re saying that Salander isn’t exactly what she seems to be.” “Try out the idea that she’s innocent of these accusations, that the picture painted of her on the billboards92 is nonsense, and that there are forces at work you haven’t even dreamed of.” “Is that the truth?” Berger nodded. “So what I just handed in is part of a continuing campaign against her.” “Precisely.” Frisk scratched his head. Berger waited until he had finished thinking. “What do you want me to do?” “Go back to your desk and start working on another story. You don’t have to stress out about it, but just before the trial begins we might be able to publish a whole feature that examines the accuracy of all the statements that have been made about Salander. Start by reading through the clippings, list everything that’s been said about her, and check off the allegations one by one.” “Alright.” “Think like a reporter. Investigate who’s spreading the story, why it’s being spread, and ask yourself whose interests it might serve.” “But I probably won’t be at S.M.P. when the trial starts. This is my last week.” Berger took a plastic folder from a desk drawer and laid a sheet of paper in front of him. “I’ve extended your assignment by three months. You’ll finish off this week with your ordinary duties and report in here on Monday.” “Thank you.” “If you want to keep working at S.M.P., that is.” “Of course I do.” “You’re contracted to do investigative work outside the normal editorial job. You’ll report directly to me. You’re going to be a special correspondent assigned to the Salander trial.” “The news editor is going to have something to say—” “Don’t worry about Holm. I’ve talked with the head of the legal department and fixed93 it so there won’t be any hassle there. But you’re going to be digging into the background, not news reporting. Does that sound good?” “It sounds fantastic.” “Right then … that’s all. I’ll see you on Monday.” As she waved him out of the glass cage she saw Holm watching her from the other side of the news desk. He lowered his gaze and pretended that he had not been looking at her.
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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debunking
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| v.揭穿真相，暴露( debunk的现在分词 ) | |
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prosecutor
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| n.起诉人；检察官，公诉人 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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annihilate
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| v.使无效；毁灭；取消 | |
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intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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shackled
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| 给（某人）带上手铐或脚镣( shackle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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millennium
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| n.一千年，千禧年；太平盛世 | |
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paperback
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| n.平装本，简装本 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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workload
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| n.作业量，工作量 | |
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freelancers
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| n.自由作家，自由记者( freelancer的名词复数 ) | |
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freelancer
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| n.自由职业者 | |
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postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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frustrating
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| adj.产生挫折的，使人沮丧的，令人泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的现在分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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raped
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| v.以暴力夺取，强夺( rape的过去式和过去分词 )；强奸 | |
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tattooing
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| n.刺字，文身v.刺青，文身( tattoo的现在分词 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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hacker
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| n.能盗用或偷改电脑中信息的人，电脑黑客 | |
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folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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photocopy
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| n.影印本；v.影印 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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activist
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| n.活动分子，积极分子 | |
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militant
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| adj.激进的，好斗的；n.激进分子，斗士 | |
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custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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ashtray
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| n.烟灰缸 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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48
zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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50
federation
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| n.同盟，联邦，联合，联盟，联合会 | |
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51
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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52
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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53
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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54
consultant
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| n.顾问；会诊医师，专科医生 | |
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55
enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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56
proofread
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| vt.校正，校对 | |
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57
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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58
deportation
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| n.驱逐，放逐 | |
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59
entails
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| 使…成为必要( entail的第三人称单数 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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60
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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61
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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63
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
juggling
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| n. 欺骗, 杂耍(=jugglery) adj. 欺骗的, 欺诈的 动词juggle的现在分词 | |
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65
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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memo
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| n.照会，备忘录；便笺；通知书；规章 | |
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narcotics
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| n.麻醉药( narcotic的名词复数 )；毒品；毒 | |
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70
confiscation
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| n. 没收, 充公, 征收 | |
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71
busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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72
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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73
evasions
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| 逃避( evasion的名词复数 )； 回避； 遁辞； 借口 | |
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74
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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76
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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boxers
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| n.拳击短裤；（尤指职业）拳击手( boxer的名词复数 )；拳师狗 | |
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79
pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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81
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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82
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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83
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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84
loyalties
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| n.忠诚( loyalty的名词复数 )；忠心；忠于…感情；要忠于…的强烈感情 | |
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85
disseminate
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| v.散布；传播 | |
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86
scrutinize
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| n.详细检查，细读 | |
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87
skidding
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| n.曳出，集材v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的现在分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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88
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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89
scoop
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| n.铲子，舀取，独家新闻；v.汲取，舀取，抢先登出 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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91
billboard
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| n.布告板，揭示栏，广告牌 | |
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billboards
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| n.广告牌( billboard的名词复数 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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