Free The Girl Who Takes an Eye for an Eye: Continuing Stieg Larsson's Millennium Series by David Lagercrantz Page B

quiet for a long time. Drained his glass of champagne. Looked upset. Said he was going to make a large donation.”
    “To whom?”
    “I have no idea, and I wondered if it was a spur of the moment decision. He immediately seemed embarrassed by what he had said, and I decided not to pursue it. It felt too private, and afterwards we just sat there awkwardly. In the end I got up, and he jumped up too, and we hugged again and kissed a little half-heartedly. I told him to take care and went out into the corridor to wait for the lift. A minute later I was getting annoyed and decided to go back. Why was he being secretive? What was he playing at? I wanted to understand. But when I reached his room – I mean, even before I could open my mouth – I realized I was disturbing him. He was sitting, writing on a distinctive-looking sheet of paper, and you could tell that he was taking extra care with each word. His shoulders were tense. He seemed to have tears in his eyes. I didn’t have the heart to interrupt, and he never even noticed me.”
    “You have no idea what it was all about?”
    “I guessed afterwards that it had something to do with his mother. She died a few days later, and Leo took a leave of absence as you know and disappeared off on those extended travels. I should probably have got in touch and expressed my condolences. But, as you know, my own life then turned into a nightmare. I was working day and night at my new job, and having spectacular rows with my ex-husband in between. And on top of all that I was sleeping with you.”
    “Must have been the worst part.”
    “Probably was.”
    “And you haven’t seen Leo since?”
    “Not in the flesh, just in a short clip on T.V. I think I’d forgotten about him, or more likely pushed him from my mind. But when you called today…” Malin hesitated, as if she were searching for words. “… I remembered that scene from the office, and it felt somehow wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It just bothered me. In the end I got so irritated that I tried to call him, but he’s changed his number.”
    “Did I mention the psychologist who was killed at an Alfred Ögren hunting party? It happened when Leo was a small boy,” Blomkvist said.
    “Er, no, why?”
    “His name was Carl Seger.”
    “The name doesn’t ring a bell. What happened?”
    “Seger was shot in the stomach twenty-five years ago during an elk hunt, in the forests around Östhammar – probably by accident. The person who fired the gun was Rosvik’s C.F.O., Per Fält.”
    “Do you suspect foul play?”
    “Not really, at least not yet. But I thought Seger and Leo may have had a close relationship. Leo’s parents were prepared to invest a lot in the boy, weren’t they? Practising for I.Q. tests and so forth. I read that Seger wrote about the importance of self-confidence for young people’s development, so I was wondering—”
    “Leo probably had more self-doubt than self-confidence,” Malin said.
    “Seger wrote about that too. Did Leo talk often about his parents?”
    “Sometimes, but only reluctantly.”
    “Doesn’t sound good.”
    “I’m sure Herman and Viveka had their qualities, but I believe one of Leo’s tragedies was that he never managed to stand up to them. He was never allowed to go his own way.”
    “His becoming a reluctant financier, in other words.”
    “Some part of him must have wanted that too. Things are never straightforward. But I’m pretty sure his dream was to break free. Maybe that’s why that scene at his desk troubles me. He almost seemed to be saying farewell – not just to his mother but also to something else, something bigger.”
    “You called him a Hamlet.”
    “Mainly as a contrast to you, I think. But it’s true, that he dithered about everything.”
    “Hamlet turned violent in the end.”
    “Ha, yes, but Leo would never …”
    “Never what?”
    A shadow flitted over Malin’s face, and Blomkvist put a hand on her shoulder.
    “What is