duni9.cc 
“I need to ask you about what’s going to happen now,” Blomkvist said.
Frode looked up.
“The conditions of your employment don’t change. They’re stipulated in a contract that runs until the end of this year, whether Henrik lives or dies. You don’t have to worry.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m wondering who I report to in his absence.”
Frode sighed.
“Mikael, you know as well as I do that this whole story about Harriet is just a pastime for Henrik.”
“Don’t say that, Dirch.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve found new evidence,” Blomkvist said. “I told Henrik about some of it yesterday. I’m very much afraid that it may have helped to bring on his heart attack.”
Frode looked at him with a strange expression.
“You’re joking, you must be…”
Blomkvist shook his head.
“Over the past few days I’ve found significant material about Harriet’s disappearance. What I’m worried about is that we never discussed who I should report to if Henrik is no longer here.”
“You report to me.”
“OK. I have to go on with this. Can I put you in the picture right now?”
Blomkvist described what he had found as concisely as possible, and he showed Frode the series of pictures from J?rnv?gsgatan. Then he explained how his own daughter had unlocked the mystery of the names in the date book. Finally, he proposed the connection, as he had for Vanger the day before, with the murder of Rebecka Jacobsson in 1949, R.J.
The only thing he kept to himself was Cecilia Vanger’s face in Harriet’s window. He had to talk to her before he put her in a position where she might be suspected of something.
Frode’s brow was creased with concern.
“You really think that the murder of Rebecka has something to do with Harriet’s disappearance?”
“It seems unlikely, I agree, but the fact remains that Harriet wrote the initials R.J. in her date book next to the reference to the Old Testament law about burnt offerings. Rebecka Jacobsson was burned to death. One connection with the Vanger family is inescapable—she worked for the corporation.”
“But what is the connection with Harriet?”
“I don’t know yet. But I want to find out. I will tell you everything I would have told Henrik. You have to make the decisions for him.”
“Perhaps we ought to inform the police.”
“No. At least not without Henrik’s blessing. The statute of limitations has long since run out in the case of Rebecka, and the police investigation was closed. They’re not going to reopen an investigation fifty-four years later.”
“All right. What are you going to do?”
Blomkvist paced a lap around the kitchen.
“First, I want to follow up the photograph lead. If we could see what it was that Harriet saw…it might be the key. I need a car to go to Norsj? and follow that lead, wherever it takes me. And also, I want to research each of the Leviticus verses. We have one connection to one murder. We have four verses, possibly four other clues. To do this…I need some help.”
“What kind of help?”
“I really need a research assistant with the patience to go through old newspaper archives to find ‘Magda’ and ‘Sara’ and the other names. If I’m right in thinking that Rebecka wasn’t the only victim.”
“You mean you want to let someone else in on…”
“There’s a lot of work that has to be done and in a hurry. If I were a police officer involved in an active investigation, I could divide up the hours and resources and get people to dig for me. I need a professional who knows archive work and who can be trusted.”
“I understand…. Actually I believe I know of an expert researcher,” said Frode, and before he could stop himself, he added, “She was the one who did the background investigation on you.”
“Who did what?” Blomkvist said.
“I was thinking out loud,” Frode said. “It’s nothing.” I’m getting old, he thought.
“You had someone do an investigation on me?”
“It’s nothing dramatic, Mikael. We wanted to hire you, and we just did a check on what sort of person you were.”
“So that’s why Henrik always seems to know exactly where he has me. How thorough was this investigation?”
“It was quite thorough.”
“Did it look into Millennium’s problems?”
Frode shrugged. “It had a bearing.”
Blomkvist lit a cigarette. It was his fifth of the day.
“A written report?”
“Mikael, it’s nothing to get worked up about.”
“I want to read the report,” he said.
“Oh come on, there’s nothing out of the ordinary about this. We wanted to check up on you before we hired you.”
“I want to read the report,” Mikael repeated.
“I couldn’t authorise that.”
“Really? Then here’s what I say to you: either I have that report in my hands within the hour, or I quit. I’ll take the evening train back to Stockholm. Where is the report?”
The two men eyed each other for several seconds. Then Frode sighed and looked away.
“In my office, at home.”
