Sorry again for the delay. Thankfully, I think I've got my schedule back on track, and I should be updating more frequently in weeks to come. It should be noted that this chapter was written over a week's time. I did my best to clear up any inconsistencies, but if you notice something that seems a little off… just bare in mind that I probably didn't do that on purpose.

Thank you all for your fantastic reviews! They're honestly, very motivational. So thanks!

~TruthIsOutThere

Blomkvist didn't see Salander again until just before dinner. Only then did she choose to reappear, making a beeline for her laptop, an intriguingly determined look on her face.

"Where have you been?" Blomkvist asked, for the sake of conversation. He knew not to expect much in the way of a response.

Salander raised her eyes from her laptop screen, setting her gaze on Blomkvist. There was something peculiar about the way she looked at him. If Blomkvist didn't know any better, he would have thought she was conflicted. But no. Salander was an extraordinarily decisive person. Surely that wasn't it.

"Before his death, Henrik Vanger purchased a very expensive telescope," she said, before adding, "It's in his office. You can go and see."

Blomkvist frowned, wondering if she would elaborate. She looked up at him again, gauged his blank expression and said, "I want to know why he bought it." This was more of an explanation than she usually offered.

"I don't understand…" Blomkvist said, walking over to stand beside her. "Is this relevant somehow…?"

Salander stood up abruptly. "The card," she said, carrying her laptop to her bedroom. "It's all connected."

Blomkvist frowned, at a loss for words. "Lisbeth… where are you going with this?" He followed her into her room. She glared at him.

"It's complicated," she said, her tone surprisingly hostile.

She must want to be alone, Blomkvist thought, pulling the door closed. He stopped himself just beyond the threshold.

"Oh, Lisbeth?" he asked, leaning his head against the doorframe.

No response.

"I meant to ask you; are you coming to dinner or not? I have to tell Anna."

There was a brief silence, then a muffled, "No."

"Okay. Thanks."

Blomkvist sighed, and returned to his computer. He had hoped to finish his article before dinner, but it seemed he was ravaged by writer's block once again. He groaned and leaned back on the couch, ever-frustrated with his inability to write since Monica left.

Blomkvist closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. That's when the noise caught his attention.

Blomkvist's head snapped up. He gazed down at his computer screen. A new email? He sighed, dreading what it would inevitably say. His article was due three days ago.

Would he ever write again?

Blomkvist clicked on the e-mail icon, and found— much to his surprise— absolutely nothing in his Millennium inbox. He quickly switched over to his personal account, and found a message waiting.

To:

From: .com

Hello Mikael. It's Tish Solovyov (Pernilla's roommate.) I know I just met you the other day, and this entire email is probably a bit strange, but I tried calling earlier and received no response.

I don't know if Nilla ever mentioned it, but I'm a journalism major at Umeå University (Although due to some recent personal and financial problems, I won't be able to resume my studies until next Fall.) Anyway, your daughter has been bugging me with speak to you for quite some time. She seems to think your guidance might be useful to me. I'll admit I am reluctant— I don't usually take advice when it comes to work or writing— but after meeting you the other day, I must say I am intrigued. I went out and purchased the latest edition of Millennium straight away (was sad to see none of your articles included!) and found it a highly satisfying read. This is surprising coming from me, as I am not usually a finance reader.

Anyway, I spoke to Nilla about it last night, and she said I should call you straight away (which I tried to do. You didn't answer) and ask if you'd be willing to discuss with me some questions I have regarding the profession ahead. I know you're staying in Hedestad for the time being, and conveniently enough I am planning to be in the area as well. I'm leaving tomorrow to visit my grandparents in Litenstad, which, I believe, is only about fifteen minutes away from Hedeby. I could certainly make the trek up to the island if you'd consider meeting me for coffee sometime. All business, of course. I think your daughter might kill me, otherwise.

Talk to you soon.

xx,

-Tish

Blomkvist quickly typed up a response, saying; yes, of course he would meet Tish for coffee. He tried not to think too much of it, reminding himself that Tish was both younger than even Lisbeth, and also his daughter's roommate. He hoped there were no implications hidden in the message, but even if there were, Blomkvist promised himself he wouldn't get involved.

Glancing over at the clock, Blomkvist hit 'send', closed his laptop, and left to change into something nicer to wear to dinner. As he passed her door, he heard the sound of vigorous typing coming from Salander's bedroom, which triggered the spread of a tiny grin. He dressed quickly, and decided to stop at Susanne's after dinner and pick up something decent for Salander to eat.

Blomkvist was never sure what brought on the compulsory urge to be particularly friendly towards Salander, but the compulsory urge was there, nonetheless. There was just something about being in her presence that clicked with him. Blomkvist didn't believe in fate, but at times, it felt as if the two of them were somehow meant to be allies, if nothing more.

Of course, he was smart enough to keep these notions to himself.

Blomkvist considered this idea on his way downstairs.

It was funny how quickly everything had changed since meeting Salander. Maybe it was purely coincidence, but it seemed as though the moment she entered his life, it changed completely.

It began in Hedestad, of course. The search for Harriet Vanger was nothing short of a life-changing experience for everyone involved. Blomkvist was nearly killed during that first trip. Facing one's mortality was never a pleasant experience, especially at the hand of a sadistic bastard like Martin Vanger.

Blomkvist still remembered the pitiless look on Martin's face just seconds before he intended to kill him.

Blomkvist also remembered the way that cruel face crumpled when Lisbeth slammed a golf club into the back of his head.

She saved his life that night.

Saved him. Changed him. Won his endless devotion.

Blomkvist spent the next several years of his life fighting for Lisbeth Salander whenever he had the chance. Even when her behavior was impossible— infuriating— he did everything in his power to prove the injustices carried out against her, and ultimately clear her name. In the end, he was a changed man. There was no denying that. The old Mikael Blomkvist was gone; replaced by someone slightly more wary, slightly more guarded, and infinitely more perseverant.

It was perseverance got him through Lisbeth's trail. Now it was perseverance that kept him working through his writer's block. He had Lisbeth to thank for all of this.

There were several months of silence after the verdict, in which Blomkvist was convinced that his relationship with Salander had finally drawn to a close. It bothered him immensely every time he thought about it. He couldn't figure out what he did, or what he said, to make her so angry with him. He just couldn't come to terms with the fact that Salander could leave so easily, after changing him so completely. The idea that she would ever want to leave Sweden after such a fantastic victory was baffling to him. Then again, Lisbeth Salander was a baffling woman. That was one of the reasons he was drawn to her. Their relationship had always been complicated; they understood each other on only the most basic level, and spent the rest of their time trying desperately to wrap their heads around the more complex aspects of one another. At least, that was how Blomkvist felt, most of the time.

Being around Lisbeth was interesting, to say the least. Blomkvist was convinced her sudden disappearance had contributed to his writer's block. He was so distracted, for so long…

Now they were back here together, in Hedestad. It felt so strange— so bizarre— but also comforting in an unusual sort of way.

At this point Blomkvist was so lost in thought he nearly ran right into Anna, who was just leaving Henrik's now-desolate office space. There was a distraught look on her face.

"Herr Blomkvist," she said, catching him by surprise.

"Anna. Hi."

Anna's eyes were wide with terror.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"Have you been in Henrik's office?" Anna asked. Her voice shook slightly. Blomkvist noticed her face looked rosy and swollen, as if she'd been crying recently.

"No…" Blomkvist craned his neck to see around Anna, into the empty office. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Where is Froken Salander?" Anna asked.

"I— In our quarters. Why? Is she in some kind of trouble?" Blomkvist wondered if he should have given away her location so quickly.

"No. No," Anna shook her head. "I'm being paranoid." She looked up at Blomkvist. "Between the two of us… she isn't a thief, is she?"

Blomkvist stared at her, abashed.

"Oh goodness, it's not my intention to accuse anyone of anything," Anna said, hurriedly. "I'm sorry if I've offended you or—"

Blomkvist shook his head. "No, no. Of course now. Lisbeth is no thief," he said. He hoped this was the truth, though in all honesty, he wouldn't put it past Salander to take something if she absolutely needed it.

But what did she absolutely need? he wondered.

Blomkvist frowned. "Is something stolen?" he asked.

Anna wrung her hands. "No, no. Of course not. It's just—"

"— It's just what?"

Anna looked conflicted. "Well, I left the door unlocked, and now something's been moved."

"So something is missing?" Blomkvist said.

"No." Anna chewed on her lip, nervously. "Herr Blomkvist, you were the one who found Harriet, weren't you?"

"Well, Lisbeth and I found her together, but; yes. Yes we did."

"So, I assume you're quite talented when it comes to… investigation?" Anna asked, slowly.

Blomkvist frowned. "Anna, if something's been stolen—"

"— No, no," Anna sighed. "Herr Blomkvist, do follow me."

Blomkvist glanced around the empty corridor.

"Alright," he said, following Anna into Henrik's office.

The place looked almost exactly as if had four years before. Few things had been added. A picture of Harriet at her first Vanger Industries board meeting now sat on the desk, a new, framed flower hung on the wall, and an elaborate-looking telescope in the window. Otherwise, the place looked as if it hadn't been touched in ages.

Blomkvist's eyes widened slightly as he recalled something Salander had mentioned earlier.

The telescope.

He frowned, examining it more closely.

"Anna, was Henrik interested in astrology?" he asked, as casually as possible.

"I had a feeling you would ask that," Anna said, her tone unusually grave. "You see, in his final months Henrik became sort of…" She looked like she was struggling to find the right word.

"Disjointed?" Blomkvist offered.

"Yes, yes. Disjointed," Anna agreed, with a hearty nod. "He developed a few strange hobbies. He was suddenly intrigued by stars, and playing cards."

Blomkvist shrugged. "Well, I'm sure that's not uncommon."

"No, I'm sure it's not," Anna agreed. "What was unusual was the way he started acting shortly after these obsessions set in."

"Well, he was an old man," Blomkvist offered. "Surely, he was bound to have some eccentricities—"

"— This wasn't a part of the normal aging process, Herr Blomkvist," Anna said. "Henrik had his moments, but for the most part he was entirely coherent, right up until his death."

Blomkvist frowned. This certainly contradicted much of what he had been told.

He must have looked curious, because Anna carried on without being prompted.

"Henrik began to believe he was receiving messages," she explained, running her hand along the base of the telescope.

"What? From aliens or something?" Blomkvist laughed, only half-joking. In his field of work, he had interviewed men— respectable men— with far stranger beliefs.

"No," Anna said, with the faintest of smiles. "No. Herr Blomkvist, come look at this." She motioned for him to join her behind Henrik's desk. She fiddled with a drawer, finally managing to wrench it half-open."

"What the hell?" Blomkvist asked. The drawer was full to bursting with normal, standard playing cards.

"Henrik's final obsession," Anna said, picking one up and admiring it. The Queen of Spades. "He has more, too, but they're all in storage."

"Where did he get these?" Blomkvist asked, perplexed.

"They came in the mail," Anna said.

"And you never found that suspicious?"

"Not particularly," Anna said, eyeing Blomkvist as if she suspected he may have some kind of explanation for the strange behavior he was describing. "Henrik could have ordered them, after all," she continued. "He did that from time to time. You'd never know it just from speaking to him casually, but Henrik was fairly savvy when it came to technology. It always interested him. He knew his way around the internet."

Blomkvist raised his eyebrows and turned back to the playing cards. "No, I wouldn't have guessed," he admitted.

Anna sighed. "Anyway," she said, abruptly pushing the drawer closed. "As I was saying, what is truly peculiar about this whole ordeal is the way Henrik connected all of this."

"All of… what?" Blomkvist asked. "Forgive me for saying so, but to me, this just looks to me like an old man's hobbies."

"Ah, that is how it looks, isn't it?" Anna said, with a tiny smile. "Sadly, it's not that simple. Before he died, Henrik took up a kind of… rambling…" Anna closed her eyes, as if the memory was physically painful for her to recall.

"That's not abnormal, either," Blomkvist reasoned. "Old men ramble. It's practically written into their nature."

"You didn't hear him," Anna said, hurriedly. "The way he went on, and on about these cards. And the telescope!" Anna hurried over to the telescope in the window. "He was always looking at something, Herr Blomkvist. Sometimes I'd walk in here and he would be sitting in his chair, just… gazing out through the telescope in broad daylight. I tried to see what he was looking at but there was never anything there!"

"It could have been anything," Blomkvist pointed out.

"Exactly. It could have been anything. But it wasn't." She shook her head. "Herr Blomkvist, I know for a fact that Henrik was looking at something specific. He saw something— something connected to those cards!" She motioned wildly at the desk.

Blomkvist gazed at her, critically. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because," Anna whispered, a hint of desperation in her voice. "There's no other explanation."

Blomkvist sighed, and gave a tiny frown. "Why are you telling me all of this, Anna?" he asked, out of sheer curiosity.

"You solved the case with Harriet," she reminded him. "That case was closed for forty years."

"Yes…"

"I need your help," Anna said. "Just while you're in town. If there's any way you could…" She trailed off, looking out the window at the snow.

Blomkvist waited for her to finish.

Anna cleared her throat, regaining her composure. "If there's any way you could… help me find some kind of closure." She looked up and met his eyes. "Henrik was an old friend of mine. I need to know what he was looking for— what he was talking about. I believe he was trying to tell me something."

Blomkvist frowned. "You're asking me to validate the ramblings of an old man?" he asked, baffled. "Anna, Henrik was very ill. He said a lot of things. Most of them probably had no real—"

"— I'm not asking you to validate anything," Anna said. "I'm asking you to look. Just look. Try to understand. I know Henrik. I know he wasn't crazy. He knew something! With these cards, and that telescope… He was on the cusp of discovering something big!"

"But what?" Blomkvist asked.

"That's what I need you to figure out," Anna said, her voice pleading. "Please. This keeps me up at night. I've done everything I can but…" She shook her head. "Whatever he was doing… Well, I get the impression it meant a great deal to him. It's hard for me to let this go without at least properly trying to figure it out."

"Why don't you go to someone else?" Blomkvist offered. "I mean, I haven't seen Henrik in years. Maybe you should talk to Harriet or—"

"— I can't risk it," Anna said, abruptly. "I can't risk my job here. I'm afraid if I bring up Henrik, it will upset the others and then…" She shook her head, then turned her attention back to Blomkvist. "I'm not asking you to solve this completely, Herr Blomkvist. Actually, I'm not asking you to solve this at all. I just want to know whatever you figure out. You're a talented researcher." She patted his shoulder. "I came to you because I knew if anyone could solve this, it would be you. You and Fröken Salander."

Blomkvist tried to imagine asking Lisbeth to join him in this endeavor. Every imaginary scenario he thought up of ended horrendously, in one way or another. They could hardly speak to each other right now, let alone solve the mystery of Henrik Vanger's last days together. Blomkvist nearly laughed aloud at the thought.

Then he remembered Salander, hauled up in her bedroom. Researching what? Blomkvist frowned. Was it possible Salander was working on this exact same case?

Yes, he realized. It was entirely possible. Not just that, it was likely.

Salander was always one step ahead. That was the way it worked.

Blomkvist snapped to attention.

"You said something was moved," he reminded her.

"Right. The telescope," Anna said. She reached back into Henrik's desk and retrieved a large piece of paper. "The day Henrik died, I noted the exact coordinates he had programmed into hid telescope. I was hoping to figure out what he was looking at, but it was also a convenient way of making sure no one came snooping around Henrik's office while I was away." Anna sighed. "I'm afraid you can't put it past the Vangers to spy on their deceased." She looked at Blomkvist with nervous eyes. "That's not to be repeated, of course."

"Of course," Blomkvist agreed.

"Anyway," Anna continued. "You put a huge telescope in the center of the room, and people are bound to touch it. I came in here every night to check the coordinates, and found nothing. The room was clean. No one came around trying to steal or snoop." She almost smiled, then her face went grave. "Today, the telescope shifted three degrees west."

"Honestly," Blomkvist reasoned. "It could have been the wind."

"Do you feel any wind?" Anna asked. The room was completely still and quiet.

Blomkvist shrugged. He couldn't really argue with that.

"No one is supposed to be in here," she explained. "I talked to Froken Salander about this place earlier this morning, so I thought maybe—"

"— Wait a second, you talked to Lisbeth about all of this?" Blomkvist asked.

"Well, not all of it," Anna explained. "I simply told her about the telescope and the cards. She seemed interested."

Blomkvist nodded. "I bet she was…" He shook his head, slightly, then turned back to Anna. "I'll tell you what," he began. "If Lisbeth agrees to work with me, I'll give it my best shot. I can't promise you anything, but I'll do what I can."

Anna looked close to tears. "Bless you…" She whispered quietly. "You're a good, good man, Herr Blomkvist."

"I can't make any promises," he reiterated.

Anna nodded. "I understand," she said. "All I'm asking is that you try."

"Of course."

Anna smiled, weakly, despite her welling tears. "Well," she breathed, glancing at the clock in the corner. "I've got to go finish dinner. See you at six then?"

"See you at six."

Blomkvist opened the door to find Harriet Vanger heading down the hallway. She jumped.

"Oh, sorry," Harriet said, quickly. "You startled me." She still looked shocked. Then realizing where Blomkvist was coming from, her expression turned perplexed. "Mikael?" she asked. "What's going on?"

"Oh, I was just helping Anna…" Blomkvist said, quickly. "She couldn't reach the top shelves. For dusting." He hoped his lie was convincing.

An apologetic look crossed Harriet's face, and she made eye contact with Anna.

"Anna, I'm so sorry," she said, quickly. "I completely neglected to mention that I had Günnar move all of the cleaning ladders downstairs earlier this week." She rubbed her temples. "I'm sorry, I've just been busy."

Anna put on a broader, artificial smile. She gave Harriet a gentle pat on the back.

"It's not a problem," she said, softly. "Lucky we had Mikael around."

Anna smiled at Blomkvist as she headed down the stairs to the kitchen. As she did this, Blomkvist found himself wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.

The first thing Salander did upon discovering the telescope was log into Hacker Republic.

Welcome to Hacker Republic, Citizen Wasp. It has been two days since your last visit. What would you like to do?

Lisbeth chose to compose a new message.

To: Plague, Trinity

From: Wasp

Subject: Vanger.

Meade 10 Inch LX200-ACF Advanced Coma Free Telescope with UHTC. Need log w/ names and dates of every purchase on the official website in the past six months. Look for anything 'Vanger'. Will pay you both for your time.

Normally, Salander would have conducted this research herself. But at the moment, she felt there were far more pressing tasks at attend to. The telescope was intriguing, of course, but Salander was still more interested in the card. She reached over to her beside table, retrieving the Queen of Hearts. She opened an online dictionary, and began searching for Norwegian words that contained the letters C, F, and D. Salander sighed, and lit a cigarette. This was going to be a long and tedious task. She watched Hacker Republic idly, checking back from time to time, awaiting replies. No one seemed to be online. It took almost an hour for her first response to arrive.

A message from Trinity, complete with an attachment.

To: Wasp

From: Trinity

Subject: Vanger.

Compiled this list. Highlighted everything of interest. Hope this is what you needed.

Now, how much money are we talking about here?

Salander stubbed out her cigarette and wrote a quick response. Then she opened the attachment, scanning the document as quickly as possible, searching for anything highlighted.

She found what she was looking for on the eighth page of sale's records.

Sale to Henrik Vanger. June 5th…

Salander skimmed the material, taking in each detail. The sale's record was immediately followed by Henrik's credit card information. Nothing seemed particularly unusual until Lisbeth ran a search on the credit card and found it belonged to Vanger industries, and not Henrik himself.

Salander frowned, examining the transaction records once again. The telescope in question was nearly twenty thousand kroner. Not a huge expense for a large company like Vanger industries, but certainly not something that would have been looked over. Henrik must have run this purchase by someone, beforehand.

Salander did a quick search of Vanger industries and found that— as the president of the company— Harriet Vanger was the currently in charge of Vanger Industries' finances.

Henrik must have discussed the purchase with her.

Salander slammed her laptop shut, grabbed her jacket and boots and headed for the door. She made her way downstairs with one intention in mind; finding Harriet Vanger.

It was only when she reached the bottom of the stairs that she realized the entire sitting room was full of guests conjoining for tonight's dinner.

Salander stopped in her tracks, staring, baffled and alarmed, at the cohort gathered before her.

Never in her life had she seen so many Vangers in the same room. They all wore the same expression; a cross between pain and frustration. Many of them stared at her, as if waiting for an explanation.

Salander's eyes darted around the room. She pushed her way into the crowd and headed for the door. The only way out was through. She would have to find Harriet later.

Just then, someone caught her arm.

Salander flinched, wrenching her arm away before looking to see who it was. She glared up at her agitator.

"Sorry," Blomkvist said, a genuinely apologetic look on his face. He seemed a little shocked, and held his hand out in mock-surrender.

Salander glanced around the room, feeling suddenly claustrophobic, but knowing it would be hard to get away now that she had been spotted.

"What are you doing?" she asked, for lack of better conversation.

"I was just about to ask you the same question," Blomkvist replied, still looking alarmed. "I thought you said you weren't coming to dinner?"

"I'm nor," Salander said. She pushed passed him, out the front door and into the snowy night. She stood on the steps for a moment, wondering what to do with herself now. She only had a moment to think before the door opened again, and Blomkvist emerged, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Salander was about to tell him to go away— that she needed a moment to think— when he looked at her and said, "Just came out here to let you know the café is open until midnight. Honestly, it's probably a lot nicer there than it is out here. And the food is decent."

He gave a nervous tight-lipped smile, and nodded.

"Well…" he breathed. "I suppose I'll see you later."

He turned towards the door. As she watched him leave, Salander was once again struck with the strange sense of appreciation triggered by the fact that he wasn't trying to stop her from leaving.

Damn Kalle Fucking Blomkvist. That was one of the most attractive things about him. He never tried to tell her how to live her life. He never intervened. He never overstayed his welcome. He gave her space when no one else did— when she didn't deserve it.

As Salander watched him disappear behind the door, she couldn't help but feel a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

No, she thought to herself. I will not let this happen again. No.

She stood paralyzed and horrified, on the front steps of the Vanger estate, for nearly ten minutes before she finally took Blomkvist's advice, and left for Susanne's café. The walk was long, and freezing, but it gave her time to think.

Salander's mind worked a million miles a minute as she trekked her way across Hedeby Island. She thought of Blomkvist first, knowing she would need some kind to strategy. Avoiding him wasn't going to work. They were living in close quarters as it was. Plus, Salander decided, she didn't really want to avoid him at all. That particular strategy never worked out well for the two of them. Blomkvist always had a way of reaching her, and catching her attention. Fucking journalists.

It would be ridiculous to try to hide from him again.

Salander briefly toyed with the idea of seducing Mikael, the way she had the last time they were in Hedestad together. In the end, she decided she couldn't trust herself enough to fall back into that routine. She remembered the way she felt, watching Blomkvist and Erika Berger walk away from her, hand-in-hand. That was years ago, and the memory still made her uncomfortable, as did the feeling that had washed over her in the minutes that followed. Salander swore she would never let herself feel so vulnerable ever again.

No compromises.

Lastly, Salander considered leaving. Would it really be so hard? She wouldn't have to cut herself off completely. She could leave Blomkvist a message— an excuse. There was no reason for her to stay here, after all…

The problem was, she was too damn invested in this mystery with the card.

Salander had a tendency to obsess over the most usual things; algebraic formulas, and genetic research… When something hooked her, she found it impossible to stay away. Until her interest waned, she was hooked.

And her interest in the card was far from waning.

Salander stopped in front of the café. She let out a heavy sigh decided that she would not be leaving Hedestad. With this, she realized she was, more or less, right back where she started.

All because of Kalle Fucking Blomkvist.

Salander walked inside and ordered a sandwich and some coffee from Susanne. She sat at a table in the far corner, brooding in silence and running through every Norwegian word she knew that contained the letters C, F, and D, for the tenth time.

Half-way through her meal, two men entered the café together, deep in conversation. At first, Salander paid them no mind. It wasn't until Susanne started chatting with them, that something piqued Salander's interest.

"How is your sister doing?" Susanne asked, wiping down the counters with a dishrag.

One of the men cleared his throat, looking forlorn. He tall and young, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a long jacket, and seemed underdressed, as if he hadn't anticipated this much snow.

"I'm sure you can imagine…" the man said, shaking his head.

"She's not doing well," his friend— an equally tall man with blonde hair and strong jaw— said. "She emails Julien almost every day, but she's horribly depressed, and homesick."

Salander put her sandwich down and listened intently.

"Poor girl," Susanne clucked. "I can only imagine living with Isabella Vanger." She shuddered. "What a horrifying home to grow up in."

The men exchanged worried looks.

"We're going to request custody again in the fall," the man with the ponytail said. There was a slight tremor of hope in his voice.

"Nadia is lucky to have a brother like you," Susanne said. "You two are the best chance she has."

Nadia, Salander thought. So the man with the ponytail was her brother? She could see it now. They had the same dark hair— the same rigid posture.

"What brings you boys up to Hedestad?" Susanne asked, finally.

The blonde man sighed. "Henrik's funeral of course," he said.

Susanne looked sad. "Ah."

"We didn't know Herr Vanger," the man with the ponytail said. "Not personally, anyway. All we know is that he was very kind to my sister when she first moved here. It's a shame he's gone, really. Nadia could use an ally or two in this place." He looked around, sadly.

"Harriet Vanger always looks out for her," Susanne said, reassuringly. "I think they've bonded over a mutual dislike for Isabella."

The blonde man laughed. "Is that so?" he asked. He turned to his friend. "See, Julien? Maybe things aren't as grave as they seem."

"I hope you're right," the man with the ponytail— Julien— said.

Susanne gave a small, warm smile. "Well, I'm sure she'll be glad to see the two of you."

The blonde man chuckled. "I should hope so," he said. "We brought her some lovely gifts…" He reached into his pocket and retrieved a few small items. "Chocolate from Norway, magazines, playing cards…"

"Are you the one who gives her the cards?" Susanne asked, intrigued. "Nadia comes in here at least once a week with a notebook and a stack of playing cards. She sits down at a table and becomes completely engrossed in whatever it is she does. It's fascinating. She works very intently."

"What does she do?" Julien asked.

"You'll have to ask her," Susanne shrugged. "She's very secretive, your sister. She works meticulously on God-knows-what. I think she might be drawing."

"With playing cards?" Julien asked.

"Maybe she draws the cards," the blonde man offered.

Julien didn't look convinced.

Salander stood up abruptly and tossed the rest of her dinner in the trash. She paid Susanne quickly, and then walked around back, suddenly struck by an idea.

Finding the garbage bin was rather simple. Salander pushed the heavy lid back, and began rummaging through, careful to avoid half-eaten meals like the one she'd just discarded. It seemed as though Blomkvist was the only one with a particular fondness for Susanne's cooking.

Finding the stack of papers was not easy, but once they were found, Salander instantly got the feeling she was on to something. She held them up in the dim light behind Susanne's café.

The papers were slightly crumpled. Salander could just barely make out the sloppy scrawl of a young girl in a hurry.

Morse code. And writing. Salander recognized a few words in Norwegian.

She knew who this belonged to. This was a key— a clue. Salander folded the papers, and tucked them away in her jacket pocket. She decided to take a short cut on her way back to the Vanger estate.

It was on her trek home that Salander stopped for a brief moment, out in front of the guesthouse she and Blomkvist shared four years before. The place looked empty— desolate. Had she not been so determined to solve the mystery at hand, Salander surely would have been tempted to re-enter the old building, which now looked to be all but sealed off. The windows were covered. The door was bolted shut with several locks. The whole place seemed horribly suspicious. Salander made a mental note to return sometime during the day, then she turned and continued on to the Vanger estate.

When she reached the front steps again, Salander took a slow, deep breath.

Time to make a decision, she thought, to herself. The papers in her pocket felt like they weighed a ton. She shifted uncomfortably, and jammed her hands in her pockets before heading inside.

The room was bustling, still crowded with people talking, and eyeing one another suspiciously. Salander scanned the crowd for Blomkvist. She found him almost instantly, standing in a corner next to Harriet Vanger.

Salander made her way through the crowd towards him.

For the first time in ages, she was coming to him.

She had the information now. She wanted to solve this once and for all.

And, she decided, She didn't want to do it alone.