Before leaving for the day, Blomkvist took on the long-overdue task of scrubbing down his apartment. He filled three black garbage bags with trash, before toting them out to the bin around back. He changed his sheets, did three loads of laundry, and pitifully cleared the stale perishables out of his freezer. Then he scrubbed off the table, stacked up his old newspapers, and tackled the ever-growing mountain of dishes in his sink. When he was done, he took a step back and examined his newly cleaned apartment. Only then did he feel the tiniest pang of despair.

Blomkvist grabbed his coat, and mobile, and walked out onto Bellmansgatan. The street was empty, save for a few cars parked sporadically beside the curb. Blomkvist passed his own car without thinking twice. He always preferred walking.

The walk to Millennium was quiet and lonely. Blomkvist found his thoughts drifting as he made he way towards the tiny office where he and his colleagues worked. He briefly stopped to ponder Frode's call that morning, wondering if Salander would ever get back to him. Probably not, he decided. He'd long since given up on maintaining any kind of regular contact with the woman. Last he heard, she was off gallivanting across Europe, stopping only every once in a great while to send a curt email to Blomkvist's sister, Annika, in whom Salander had found an unlikely friend. Blomkvist felt a stab of envy, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He was glad Lisbeth had befriended his sister. He was the one who introduced them, after all. Still, the feeling reminded Blomkvist of a conversation he had with Annika, just after he had cleared his name, following the horrible Wennestrom affair. Annika was sitting across from him, over a meal, when she finally expressed her anguish over never having been asked to represent him in court. Blomkvist had felt guilty. His sister was a lawyer, after all. Maybe he should have gone to her, rather than someone else.

Now he felt the other side of the story. He'd fought for Salander relentlessly. He was her friend when no one else dared to be. He found her supporters. He published her story. He cleared her name.

And now she was off, running around the continent, speaking only to his little sister, and never to Mikael, himself.

Blomkvist frowned, and tried not to feel too resentful. Salander, he reminded himself, had always been odd. She wasn't socially equipped to maintain any kind of real, sustainable relationship. That was just the way she was.

Blomkvist stopped at the top of the stairs, leading up to the Millennium office. He took a deep breathed, rubbed his numb hands together, and stepped inside.

The office was, of course, completely empty. For the first time since leaving the house, Blomkvist got a good look at an actual clock. Six-forty-five. He shook his head, and began to clear off his cluttered desk. He probably had at least another good two hours before anyone showed up for work. He could get a lot done in that time.

Lately, Blomkvist had been grappling with a paralyzing bout of writers block, which was undeniably showing in Millennium's most recent publications. Without his articles to fill page-space, the magazine was growing thinner, and thinner, and the tension in the office only intensified as the days wore on.

It seemed, no matter what he did, Blomkvist just couldn't muster up the interest to see a project through to completion. At first, he'd blamed this sudden bout of apathy on the waning of Salander's case, which had absorbed so much of his attention, for so long. After that, he pinned the blame on his atrocious break up with Monica Figuerola…

Blomkvist sighed and rubbed his brow. He tried his best not to think of Monica, and their tragically bitter end. Every time he pictured her face, he felt shattered, like a schoolboy rejected by his first love. For a while, he had truly believed that things might work out between the two of them— that he might settle down again. Get married. Become stable.

But no. Things never did work out quite so smoothly. Blomkvist sighed and stared out the window, overlooking Götgatan. He sat in front of his computer, and wracked his brain for any scrap of a story. When nothing came to mind, he checked the Knights of the Idiotic Table Yahoo! group. Of course, there was no response from Salander. One could only hope for so much. Blomkvist got up, made coffee, and then went back to the window. He stood motionless for several moments, trying to calculate his next movie.

Frode was right about one thing; it would be bad business to avoid Henrik's funeral. Like it or not, Blomkvist shared a connection with this man, that connection being his much-beloved grandniece, Harriet, who was now CEO of the Vanger company, and who just-so-happened to sit on the board at Millennium. Blomkvist frowned. Staying away from Harriet would be bad for business. And since he wasn't really contributing much as it was…

Blomkvist sighed and glanced around the empty office. He walked over to his desk, sat down, and typed up a short note to Erika Berger.

Ricky,

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Jesus. That sounded cryptic. What I mean is, I'm taking a short leave. Probably until after the Christmas holidays. I'm going to visit my daughter, and then returning to Hedestad to tend to some unfinished business. I'm sorry to leave you with only this message, but unfortunately I'm a bit short on time. The problem in Hedestad has come out of nowhere, but please understand that I'm doing what I have to do for the sake of the magazine.

Love,

Micke.

Blomvist sent the e-mail, grabbed his coat, and walked back home. When he reached his apartment, it was nearly seven-thirty. He pulled out an old suitcase, and filled it with warm clothes. God knew he wasn't looking forward to another winder on Hedeby Island. He shivered just thinking about it. When he was all finished packing, Blomkvist dug his mobile out of his pocket and decided to pay her daughter a call. She lived half-way between Stockholm and Hedeby, and Mikael hadn't seen her in a while. It seemed only fitting that he visit her along the way.

It wasn't until Blomkvist hung up with Pernilla that he truly realized what he was doing. He walked over to his computer and checked his Yahoo! group one last time. Still, no reply.

It didn't matter, he realized. Business was business, and he would have to return to Hedestad with, or without Salander by his side. That was just the way things were.

Still, Blomkvist couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Salander woke up to the shrill sound of hr phone ringing. She reached out blindly and fumbled with her mobile before answering.

"Lisbeth Salander?"

"Mmm."

"It's Erika Berger."

Salander's eyes snapped open. She stared up at her off-white texture ceiling, mentally running through the list of everyone who had her phone number. Giannini. Palmgren. Armonsky.

Armonsky.

"What do you want?" Salander asked, monotone.

"I'm calling about Micke— about Mikael."

Salander's eyes narrowed. "I don't speak to him."

"I thought you'd say that," Berger said. "So there's no chance you know why he's going to Hedestad?"

Salander frowned. She didn't say anything.

Berger sighed. "I figured it was a long shot," she said. "Sorry to have bothered you, Froken Salander. I'm just worried about him…"

"Why is he in Hedestad?" Lisbeth asked, abruptly.

"I'm not sure," Berger admitted. "He's been rather withdrawn lately. Then, out of the blue, I get this cryptic e-mail from him saying he's off to Hedestad to tend to some unfinished business or something like that. It's all very strange…"

Unfinished business? Salander thought. As far as she knew, the last business Mikael had on Hedeby Island had to do with Henrik Vanger, who'd proved himself to be a slime and a liar, at least in Salander's eyes. Still, compared to his relatives, Henrik seemed like a regular angel. Salander recalled Henrik's grandnephew Martin Vanger. The mere memory made her skin crawl. Hedestad, she had decided, was a place simply swarming with fools, and creeps. She never wanted to go back there. She couldn't imagine why Mikael would.

"Do you know something?" Berger asked. "Honestly, we could treat this like an article. You could be a protected source. If you have information on Mikael—"

"— I don't have any information," Salander said, simply. Then she hung up her mobile, tossed it aside, and climbed out of bed.

She found her laptop quickly, and opened Asphyxia 1.5. Without thinking, she hacked into an account she hadn't touched in almost a year.

Desktop: Mikael Blomkvist… Loading… Log in…

Salander bypassed the security without a problem. She found Blomkvist's email to Berger within seconds.

I'm going to visit my daughter, and then returning to Hedestad to tend to some unfinished business…

Salander opened up Blomkvist's address book and quickly found his daughter's place of residence. Pernilla Blomkvist, it seemed, lived close to half-way between Stockholm and Hedeby Island. Lisbeth shook her head. Blomkvist really was headed back to that decrepit place. But why? She checked the Knights of the Idiotic Table Yahoo! group, but found nothing more. She checked his hard drive thoroughly, but found no further information there, either. Finally, she slammed her laptop closed, and went to her mobile again.

She dialed a familiar number.

Giannini picked up on the second ring.

"Lisbeth?" she asked, obviously having seen her former-client's name show up on her caller I.D. "Is something wrong?"

"Why is Mikael going to Hedeby Island?" Salander demanded. She was nothing if not frank in conversation.

"I— What?" Giannini seemed confused.

"Your brother," Salander began. "He's going to Hedestad. Do you know why?"

Giannini sighed. "Lisbeth, I told you. I'm not interested in being involved with your relationship with Mikael—"

"— This isn't about my relationship. I just need to know."

Giannini sighed again. "I don't know," she said, finally. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Thanks," Salander said, through clenched teeth. The word was coming more easily now, with Annika. She hung up the phone, crammed her laptop, and a couple of changes of clothes into a small messenger bag, showered, made coffee, and then set off.

She was doing what any rational person would do.

She was following Mikael Blomkvist to Hedestad.