k how ake the ? that was iies.”
“you misuood me. your family moved to sto when yot the job as the workshop foreman at zarinder’s meical. i was the o him the job. i knew he was a good worker. i used to see him over the years when i had busih zari close friends, but we would chat for a while. the last time i saw him was the year before he died, aold me then that you had got into journalism school. he was extremely proud. then you became famous with the story of the bank r. i’ve followed your d read many of your articles over the years. as a matter of fact, i read millenen.”
“ok, i’m with you, but what is it exactly that you wao do?”
va his hands, then sipped his coffee, as if he needed a pause before he could at last begin to broach what he wanted.
“befet started, mikael, i’d like to make ah you. i want you to do two things for me. one is a pretext aher is my real objective.”
“what freement?”
“i’m going to tell you a story in two parts. the first is about the vanger family. that’s the pretext. it’s a long, dark story, and i’ll try to stick to the uh. the sed part of the story deals with my actual objective. you’ll probably thihe story is…crazy. what i want is for you to hear me out—about what i want you to do and also what i am —before you make up your miake on the job or not.”
blomkvist sighed. obviously va goi him go ich the afternoon train. he was sure that if he called frode to ask for a lift to the station, the ehow refuse to start in the cold.
the old man must have thought long and hard how he was going to hook him. blomkvist had the feeli thing that had happened since he arrived was staged: the introductory surprise that as a child he had met his host, the picture of his parents in the album, and the emphasis ohat his father and vanger had been friends, along with the flattery that the old man knew who mikael blomkvist was and that he had been following his career for years from a distano doubt it had a core of truth, but it retty elementary psychology. vanger raipulator—how else had he bee one of sweden’s leading industrialists?
blomkvist decided that vao do somethi goihe slightest desire to do. he had o from him what this was and then say no thank you. and just possibly be ich the afternoon train.
“five me, herr vanger,” he said, “i’ve been here already for twenty minutes. i’ll give you exactly thirty miell me what you want. then i’m g a taxi and going home.”
for a moment the mask of the good-riarch slipped, and blomkvist could detect the ruthless of industry from his days of power ted by a setback. his mouth a grim smile.
“i uand.”
“you do arouh me. tell me what you wao do, so that i decide whether i want to do it or not.”
“so if i vin half an hour then i wouldo do it in a mo’s what you think.”
“something along that line.”
“but my st and plicated.”
“shorten and simplify it. that’s what we do in journalism. twees.”
vanger held up a hand. “enough. i get your point. but it’s never good psychology to exaggerate. i need somebody who do researd think critically, but who also has iy. i think you have it, and that’s nood journalist ought to possess these qualities, and i read your book the kh great i’s true that i picked you beew your father and beow who you are. if i uhe matter correctly, you left yazihe wer?m affair. whis that you have no job at the moment, and probably you’re in a tight financial spot.”
“so you might be able to exploit my predit, is that it?”
“perhaps. but mikael—if i may ikael?—i woo you. i’m too old for that. if you do i say, you tell me to jump ihen i’ll have to fio work with me.”
“ok, tell me what this job involves.”
“how much do you know about the vanger family?”
“well, only what i mao read o since frode called me on monday. in your day the vanger corporatiohe most important industrial firms ioday it’s somewhat dimii. i k more, but what are you getting at?”
“martin is…he’s a good man but basically he’s a fair-weather sailor. he’s unsuited
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