The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest Page 73


She moved with confidence and sat down next to her lawyer. She surveyed the spectators. There was no curiosity in her gaze. She seemed instead defiantly to be observing and registering those who had already convicted her in the press.


It was the first time Blomkvist had seen her since she lay like a bloody rag doll on the bench in that kitchen in Gosseberga, and a year and a half or more since he had last seen her under normal circumstances. If the term "normal circumstances" could ever be used in connection with Salander. For a matter of seconds their eyes met. Hers lingered on him, but she betrayed no sign of recognition. Yet she did seem to study the bruises that covered Blomkvist's cheek and temple and the surgical tape over his right eyebrow. Blomkvist thought he discerned the merest hint of a smile in her eyes but could not be sure he had not imagined it. Then Judge Iversen pounded his gavel and called the court to order.


The spectators were allowed to be present in the courtroom for all of thirty minutes. They listened to Ekstrom's introductory presentation of the case.


Every reporter except Blomkvist was busily taking notes even though by now all of them knew the charges Ekstrom intended to bring. Blomkvist had already written his story.


Ekstrom's introductory remarks went on for twenty-two minutes. Then it was Giannini's turn. Her presentation took thirty seconds. Her voice was firm.


"The defence rejects all the charges brought against her except one. My client admits to possession of an illegal weapon, that is, one spray canister of Mace. To all other counts, my client pleads not guilty of criminal intent. We will show that the prosecutor's assertions are flawed and that my client has been subjected to grievous encroachment of her civil rights. I will demand that my client be acquitted of all charges, that her declaration of incompetence be revoked, and that she be released."


There was a murmuring from the press gallery. Advokat Giannini's strategy had at last been revealed. It was obviously not what the reporters had been expecting. Most had speculated that Giannini would in some way exploit her client's mental illness to her advantage. Blomkvist smiled.


"I see," Judge Iversen said, making a swift note. He looked at Giannini. "Are you finished?"


"That is my presentation."


"Does the prosecutor have anything to add?" Judge Iversen said.


It was at this point that Ekstrom requested a private meeting in the judge's chambers. There he argued that the case hinged upon one vulnerable individual's mental state and welfare, and that it also involved matters which, if explored before the public in court, could be detrimental to national security.


"I assume that you are referring to what may be termed the Zalachenko affair," Judge Iversen said.


"That is correct. Alexander Zalachenko came to Sweden as a political refugee and sought asylum from a terrible dictatorship. There are elements in the handling of his situation, personal connections and the like, that are still classified, even though Herr Zalachenko is now deceased. I therefore request that the deliberations be held behind closed doors and that a rule of confidentiality be applied to those sections of the deliberations that are particularly sensitive."


"I believe I understand your point," Judge Iversen said, knitting his brows.


"In addition, a large part of the deliberations will deal with the defendant's guardianship. This touches on matters which in all normal cases become classified almost automatically, and it is out of respect for the defendant that I am requesting a closed court."


"How does Advokat Giannini respond to the prosecutor's request?"


"For our part it makes no difference."


Judge Iversen consulted his assessor and then announced, to the annoyance of the reporters present, that he had accepted the prosecutor's request. So Blomkvist left the courtroom.


Armansky waited for Blomkvist at the bottom of the stairs in the courthouse. It was sweltering in the July heat and Blomkvist could feel sweat in his armpits. His two bodyguards joined him as he emerged from the courthouse. Both nodded to Armansky and then they busied themselves studying the surroundings.


"It feels strange to be walking around with bodyguards," Blomkvist said. "What's all this going to cost?"


"It's on the firm. I have a personal interest in keeping you alive. But, since you ask, we've spent roughly 250,000 kronor on pro bono work in the past few months."


"Coffee?" Blomkvist said, pointing to the Italian cafe on Bergsgatan.


Blomkvist ordered a latte and Armansky a double espresso with a teaspoon of milk. They sat in the shade on the pavement outside. The bodyguards sat at the next table drinking Cokes.


"Closed court," Armansky said.


"That was expected. And it's O.K., since it means that we can control the news flow better."


"You're right, it doesn't matter to us, but my opinion of Prosecutor Ekstrom is sinking fast," Armansky said.


They drank their coffee and contemplated the courthouse in which Salander's future would be decided.


"Custer's last stand," Blomkvist said.


"She's well prepared," Armansky said. "And I must say I'm impressed with your sister. When she began planning her strategy I thought it made no sense, but the more I think about it, the more effective it seems."


"This trial won't be decided in there," Blomkvist said. He had been repeating these words like a mantra for several months.


"You're going to be called as a witness," Armansky said.


"I know. I'm ready. But it won't happen before the day after tomorrow. At least that's what we're counting on."


Ekstrom had left his reading glasses at home and had to push his glasses up on to his forehead and squint to be able to read the last-minute handwritten additions to his text. He stroked his blond goatee before once more he readjusted his glasses and surveyed the room.


Salander sat with her back ramrod straight and gave the prosecutor an unfathomable look. Her face and eyes were impassive and she did not appear to be wholly present. It was time for the prosecutor to begin questioning her.


"I would like to remind Froken Salander that she is speaking under oath," Ekstrom said at last.


Salander did not move a muscle. Prosecutor Ekstrom seemed to be anticipating some sort of response and waited for a few seconds. He looked at her expectantly.


"You are speaking under oath," he said.


Salander tilted her head very slightly. Giannini was busy reading something in the preliminary investigation protocol and seemed unconcerned by whatever Prosecutor Ekstrom was saying. Ekstrom shuffled his papers. After an uncomfortable silence he cleared his throat.


"Very well then," Ekstrom said. "Let us proceed directly to the events at the late Advokat Bjurman's summer cabin outside Stallarholmen on April 6 of this year, which was the starting point of my presentation of the case this morning. We shall attempt to bring clarity to how it happened that you drove down to Stallarholmen and shot Carl-Magnus Lundin."


Ekstrom gave Salander a challenging look. Still she did not move a muscle. The prosecutor suddenly seemed resigned. He threw up his hands and looked pleadingly at the judge. Judge Iversen seemed wary. He glanced at Giannini who was still engrossed in some papers, apparently unaware of her surroundings.


Judge Iversen cleared his throat. He looked at Salander. "Are we to interpret your silence to mean that you don't want to answer any questions?" he asked.


Salander turned her head and met Judge Iversen's eyes.


"I will gladly answer questions," she said.


Judge Iversen nodded.


"Then perhaps you can answer the question," Ekstrom put in.


Salander looked at Ekstrom and said nothing.


"Could you please answer the question?" Judge Iversen urged her.


Salander looked back at the judge and raised her eyebrows. Her voice was clear and distinct.


"Which question? Until now that man there"  -  she nodded towards Ekstrom  -  "has made a number of unverified statements. I haven't yet heard a question."


Giannini looked up. She propped her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her hand with an interested expression.


Ekstrom lost his train of thought for few seconds.


"Could you please repeat the question?" Judge Iversen said.


"I asked whether... you drove down to Advokat Bjurman's summer cabin in Stallarholmen with the intention of shooting Carl-Magnus Lundin."


"No. You said that you were going to try to bring clarity to how it happened that I drove down to Stallarholmen and shot Carl-Magnus Lundin. That was not a question. It was a general assertion in which you anticipated my answer. I'm not responsible for the assertions you are making."


"Don't quibble. Answer the question."


"No."


Silence.


"No what?"


"No is my answer to the question."


Prosecutor Ekstrom sighed. This was going to be a long day. Salander watched him expectantly.


"It might be best to take this from the beginning," he said. "Were you at the late Advokat Bjurman's summer cabin in Stallarholmen on the afternoon of April 6 this year?"


"Yes."


"How did you get there?"


"I went by shuttle train to Sodertalje and took the Strangnas bus."


"What was your reason for going to Stallarholmen? Had you arranged a meeting there with Carl-Magnus Lundin and his friend Sonny Nieminen?"


"No."


"How was it that they showed up there?"


"You'll have to ask them that."


"I'm asking you."


Salander did not reply.


Judge Iversen cleared his throat. "I presume that Froken Salander is not answering because  -  purely semantically  -  you have once again made an assertion," the judge said helpfully.


Giannini suddenly sniggered just loud enough to be heard. She pulled herself together at once and studied her papers again. Ekstrom gave her an irritated glance.


"Why do you think Lundin and Nieminen went to Bjurman's summer cabin?"


"I don't know. I suspect that they went there to commit arson. Lundin had a litre of petrol in a plastic bottle in the saddlebag of his Harley-Davidson."


Ekstrom pursed his lips. "Why did you go to Advokat Bjurman's summer cabin?"


"I was looking for information."


"What sort of information?"


"The information that I suspect Lundin and Nieminen were there to destroy, and which could contribute to clarifying who murdered the bastard."


"Is it your opinion that Advokat Bjurman was a bastard? Is that correctly construed?"


"Yes."


"And why do you think that?"


"He was a sadistic pig, a pervert, and a rapist  -  and therefore a bastard."


She was quoting the text that had been tattooed on the late Advokat Bjurman's stomach and thus indirectly admitting that she was responsible for it. This affray, however, was not included in the charges against Salander. Bjurman had never filed a report of assault, and it would be impossible now to prove whether he had allowed himself to be tattooed or whether it had been done against his will.


"In other words, you are alleging that your guardian forced himself on you. Can you tell the court when these assaults are supposed to have taken place?"


"They took place on Tuesday, February 18, 2003 and again on Friday, March 7 of the same year."


"You have refused to answer every question asked by the police in their attempts to interview you. Why?"


"I had nothing to say to them."


"I have read the so-called 'autobiography' that your lawyer delivered without warning a few days ago. I must say it is a strange document, and we'll come back to it in more detail later. But in it you claim that Advokat Bjurman allegedly forced you to perform oral sex on the first occasion, and on the second subjected you to an entire night of repeated and consummated rape and severe torture."


Lisbeth did not reply.


"Is that correct?"


"Yes."


"Did you report the rapes to the police?"


"No."


"Why not?"


"The police never listened before when I tried to tell them something. So there seemed no point in reporting anything to them then."


"Did you discuss these assaults with any of your acquaintances? A girlfriend?"


"No."


"Why not?"


"Because it's none of their business."


"Did you try to contact a lawyer?"


"No."


"Did you go to a doctor to be treated for the injuries you claim to have sustained?"


"No."


"And you didn't go to any women's crisis centre either."


"Now you're making an assertion again."


"Excuse me. Did you go to any women's crisis centre?"


"No."


Ekstrom turned to the judge. "I want to make the court aware that the defendant has stated that she was subjected to sexual assaults on two occasions, the second of which should be considered exceptionally severe. The person she claims committed these rapes was her guardian, the late Advokat Nils Bjurman. The following facts should be taken into account at this juncture..." Ekstrom pointed at the text in front of him. "In the investigation carried out by the Violent Crimes Division, there was nothing in Advokat Bjurman's past to support the credibility of Lisbeth Salander's account. Bjurman was never convicted of any crime. He has never been reported to the police or been the subject of an investigation. He had previously been a guardian or trustee to several other young people, none of whom have claimed that they were subjected to any sort of attack. On the contrary, they assert that Bjurman invariably behaved correctly and kindly towards them."

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