The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson Page A

when it was not in the least bit necessary. In which case Sandberg, or whatever the hell his name was, was the first indication that Zalachenko’s predicament had come to the attention of the Section. Considering the media attention, this would have been hard to avoid. But the visit did confirm that his predicament was a matter of anxiety to them. As well it might be.
    He weighed the pros and cons, lined up the possibilities, and rejected various options. He was fully aware that everything had gone about as badly as it could have. In a well-ordered world he would be at home in Gosseberga now, Niedermann would be safely out of the country, and Salander would be buried in a hole in the ground. Despite the fact that he had a reasonable grasp of what had happened, for the life of him he could not comprehend how she had managed to dig herself out of Niedermann’s trench, make her way to his farm, and damn near destroy him with two blows of an axe. She was extraordinarily resourceful.
    On the other hand, he understood quite well what had happened to Niedermann, and why he had run for his life instead of staying to finish Salander off. He knew that something was not quite right in Niedermann’s head, that he saw visions—ghosts, even. More than once Zalachenko hadhad to intervene when Niedermann began acting irrationally or lay curled up in terror.
    This worried Zalachenko. He was convinced that since Niedermann had not yet been captured, he must have been acting rationally during the twenty-four hours since his flight from Gosseberga. Probably he would go to Tallinn, where he would seek protection among contacts in Zalachenko’s criminal empire. What worried him in the short term was that he could never predict when Niedermann might be struck by his mental paralysis. If it happened while he was trying to escape, he would make mistakes, and if he made mistakes he would end up in prison. He would never surrender voluntarily, which meant that policemen would die and Niedermann probably would as well.
    This thought upset Zalachenko. He did not want Niedermann to die. Niedermann was his son, and physically an almost perfect specimen. But regrettable as it was, Niedermann must not be captured alive. He had never been arrested, and Zalachenko could not predict how he would react under interrogation. He doubted that Niedermann would be able to keep quiet, as he should. So it would be a good thing if he were killed by the police. Zalachenko would grieve for his son, but the alternative was worse. If Niedermann talked, Zalachenko himself would have to spend the rest of his life in prison.
    But it was now forty-eight hours since Niedermann had fled, and he had not yet been caught. That was good. It was an indication that Niedermann was functioning, and a functioning Niedermann was invincible.
    In the long term there was another worry. He wondered how Niedermann would get along on his own, without his father there to guide him. Over the years he had noticed that if he stopped giving instructions or gave Niedermann too much latitude to make his own decisions, he would slip into an indolent state of indecision.
    Zalachenko acknowledged for the umpteenth time that it was a shame his son did not possess certain qualities. Ronald Niedermann was without doubt a very talented person who had physical attributes to make him a formidable and feared individual. He was also an excellent and cold-blooded organizer. His problem was that he utterly lacked the instinct to lead. He always needed somebody to tell him what he was supposed to be organizing.
    But for the time being all this lay outside Zalachenko’s control. Right now he had to focus on himself. His situation was precarious, perhaps more precarious than ever before.
    He did not think that Advokat Thomasson’s visit earlier in the day had been particularly reassuring. Thomasson was and remained a corporate lawyer, and no matter how effective he was in that respect, he would not be a great