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Reluctantly he let himself be escorted in the other direction, back to the security gates where he opened his locker and retrieved his mobile and keys. He decided to treat himself to a taxi to Örebro Central Station, and on the train to Stockholm he read a novel by Peter May, a Scottish crime writer. As a sort of protest he put off checking up on Leo Mannheimer.
    Olsen was relieved that Blomkvist’s visit had been so short. He had worried that Salander was giving the journalist a story about Benito’s domination of the unit, but there hadn’t been time for that, which was the only good news. Olsen had worked damned hard to try to get Benito transferred. But nothing came of it, and it didn’t help that several of his colleagues had stood up for her and assured the prison management that no new measures were necessary. The outrage was allowed to continue.
    For the time being all Salander did was watch and wait. In fact, she had given him five days in which to straighten things out by himself and to protect Faria Kazi. Then Salander would step in – that at least is what she threatened. Five days had now passed without Olsen having managed to effect a single change. On the contrary, the atmosphere in the unit had become even tenser and more unpleasant. Something ugly was brewing.
    It seemed as if Benito were preparing for a fight. She was building fresh alliances and getting an unusual number of visitors. This generally meant that she was getting an unusual amount of information. Worst of all, she was stepping up the intimidation and violence against Faria Kazi. It was true that Salander was never far away, and that helped. But it annoyed Benito. She hissed and threatened Salander and once in the gym Olsen overheard what she said.
    “Kazi is my whore,” she spat. “Nobody but me forces that brown tart to arch her back!”
    Salander gritted her teeth and looked at the floor. Olsen had no idea if it was because of her deadline, or whether she felt powerless. He suspected the latter. However gutsy the girl might be, she did not have anything she could use against Benito. Benito was on a life sentence – she had nothing to lose – and her gorillas, Tine and Greta and Josefin, were behind her. Lately Olsen had been afraid that he would see the glint of steel in her hands.
    He was always on at the staff working the metal detectors, and he had her cell searched over and over again. Still he worried that this was not enough. He imagined he could see Benito and her sidekicks passing things between them, drugs or glinting objects. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks. His life was made no easier by the fact that there had been a threat against Salander from the outset. Every time the alarm went off or he took a call on his radio, he feared that something had happened to her. He had even tried to persuade her to agree to solitary confinement, but she had refused. He was not strong enough to insist. He was not strong enough for anything.
    He was cut through by guilt and by worry and kept looking over his shoulder. On top of which he was doing a crazy amount of overtime, and that upset Vilda and put a strain on his relations with his aunt and the neighbours. The ventilation system was defunct, so the unit was unbearably airless and hot. He was sweating like a pig. He felt mentally worn out and kept looking at his watch, waiting for a call from Fager to tell him that Benito was to be moved out. But no call came. Olsen had for the first time been entirely open with Fager about the situation so either the prison governor was an even bigger fool than he had believed, or else he too was corrupt. It was hard to know which.
    After the cell doors were locked on Friday evening Olsen went back to his office to gather his thoughts. But he was not left in peace for long. Salander called on the intercom. She wanted to use his computer again. She said very little and her look was dark. He did not get home until late that night either,