Luftslottet som sprängdes, Norstedts, Stockholm 2007
Translated by Reg Keeland
jh: 
MacLehose Press, London 2009
See also Muži, kteří nenávidí ženy, Dievča, ktoré sa hralo s ohňom
…
He was suddenly aware of Nurse Nicander saying something.
"Sorry. I wasn’t listening."
"It’s her."
"What do you mean?"
"It’s Lisbeth Salander. The girl they’ve been hunting for the past few weeks, for the triple murder in Stockholm."
Jonasson looked again at the unconscious patient’s face. He realized at once that Nurse Nicander was right. He and the whole of Sweden had seen her passport photograph on billboards outside every newspaper kiosk for weeks. And now the murderer herself had been shot, which was surely poetic justice of a sort.
But that was not his concern. His job was to save his patient’s life, irrespective of whether she was a triple murderer or a Nobel Prize winner. Or both.
…
She was irritated with Giannini. From a pracitcal point of view she could see why her lawyer kept going on and on about details from her past. Rationally she understood it. Giannini needed to have all the facts. But she did not have the remotest wish to talk about her feelings or her actions. Her life was her own business. It was not her fault that her father had been a pathological sadist and murderer. It was not her fault that her brother was a murderer. And thank God nobody yet knew that he was her brother, which would otherwise no doubt also be held against her in the psychiatric evaluation that sooner or later would inevitably be conducted. She was not the one who had killed Svensson and Johansson. She was not responsible for appointing a guardian who turned out to be a pig and rapist.
And yet it was her life that was going to be turned inside out. She would be forced to explain herself and to beg for forgiveness because she had defended herself.
…
Surfing on a Palm hand-held with a tiny screen and a stylus was not the same thing as surfing on a PowerBook with a 17″ screen. But she was connected. From her bed at Sahlgrenska she could now reach the entire world.
She started by going on to a website that advertised rather uninteresting pictures by an unknown and not especially skilled amateur photographer called Gil Bates in Jobsville, Pennsylvania. Salander hand once checked it out and confirmed that the town of Jobsville did not exist. Nevertheless, Bates had taken more than 200 photographs of the community and created a gallery of small thumbnails. She scrolled down to image 167 and clicked to enlarge it. It showed the church in Jobsville. She put her cursor on the spire of the church tower and clicked. She instantly got a pop-up dialog box that asked for her I.D. and password. She took her stylus and wrote the word Remarkable on the screen as her I.D. and A(89)Cx#magnolia as the password.
She got a dialog box with the text [ERROR – you have the wrong password] and button that said [OK – Try again]. Lisbeth knew that if she clicked on [OK – Try again] and tried a different password, she would get the same dialog box again – for years and years, for as long as she kept trying. Instead she clicked on the [O] in [ERROR].
The screen went blank. Then an animated door opened and a Lara Croft-like figure stepped out. A speech bubble materialized with the text [WHO GOES THERE?].
She clicked on the bubble and wrote Wasp. She got instant reply [PROVE IT – OR ELSE …] as the animated Lara Croft unlocked the safety catch on her gun. Salander knew it was no empty threat. If she wrote the wrong password three times in a row the site would shut down and the name Wasp would be struck from the membership list. Carefully she wrote the password MonkeyBusiness.
The screen changed again and now had a blue background with the text:
[Welcome to Hacker Republic, citizen Wasp. It has been 56 days since your last visit. There are 11 citizens online. Do you want (a) Browse the Forum (b) Send a Message (c) Search the Archive (d) Talk (e) Get Laid?]
…