"I'm going to get right to the point," she said. "The investigation into allegations made against you by Eva Persson and her mother is now under way."

  "Who's in charge?"

  "A man from Hässleholm."

  "A man from Hassleholm? That sounds like the name of a bad television series."

  "He's a highly regarded officer. I also need to inform you that you have been reported to the Justice Department ombudsman. And not just you. We have both been reported."

  "Did you slap her too?"

  "I'm responsible for the conduct of my officers."

  "Who filed the report?"

  "Persson's lawyer, Klas Harrysson."

  "Thanks for letting me know," Wallander said and got up. He was furious now. The energy from the morning was draining from his body, and he didn't want it to go.

  "I'm not finished."

  "We have a homicide investigation on our hands."

  "I spoke to Hansson earlier. I am aware of how it's going."

  He said nothing about having talked to her, Wallander thought. Are all my colleagues going behind my back?

  He sat down heavily.

  "This is a difficult situation," she said.

  "Not really," Wallander said, interrupting her. "What happened between Persson, her mother and me happened exactly as I told you. I haven't changed a syllable of my account of it since it happened. You should be able to tell that I don't flinch or get nervous when you press me on details. What makes me mad as all hell, however, is that you don't believe me."

  "What do you expect me to do?"

  "I want you to believe me when I tell you something."

  "But the girl and her mother have a different story. And there's two of them."

  "There could be a hundred of them and it wouldn't change an iota. You should believe me, not them. They have a reason to he."

  "So do you."

  "I do?"

  "If you hit her without provocation."

  Wallander got up a second time, this time more forcefully. "I won't even dignify that remark with an answer. It's a gross insult." She started to protest, but he interrupted her. "Is there anything else?"

  "I'm still not finished."

  Wallander remained where he was. The situation was almost unbearably tense. He was not going to back down, but he wanted to get out of the room as rapidly as possible.

  "The situation is sufficiently serious for me to have to take action," she said. "For as long as the investigation is in progress I have to suspend you."

  Wallander heard her words and knew what they meant. Both Svedberg and Hansson had been suspended. In Hansson's case, Wallander had been convinced that the allegations were false. In Svedberg's case, he hadn't been so sure, but Svedberg's word had later been corroborated. But in neither case had he supported Björk, who was chief then, in his decision to suspend his colleagues. It seemed to him to be taking sides against them before the investigation had even begun.

  Suddenly his anger left him. He was completely calm.

  "You do as you like," he said. "But if you suspend me I shall resign with immediate effect."

  "That sounds like a threat."

  "I don't care what the hell it sounds like. It's simply a fact. And don't think you can count on me coming back when the investigation proves that they were lying and I was telling the truth."

  "I wish you would cooperate instead of threatening me with your resignation."

  "I have been a police officer for a very long time," Wallander said, "and I know perfectly well that the step you say you are obliged to take is not in the regulations. There's someone higher up who's nervous about that picture in the paper and who wants an example made of me, and you are choosing to go along with it."

  "It's nothing like that," she said.

  "That's exactly what it's like. When were you planning to suspend me? As soon as you dismissed me from this meeting?"

  "The man from Hässleholm has undertaken to work quickly. Since we are up to our ears in a case I was going to put it off."

  "Why bother? Let Martinsson take charge. He'll do an excellent job."

  "I thought we would finish the week as we are."

  "No," Wallander said. "Nothing is as we are right now. Either you suspend me now or you don't do it at all."

  "Why do you have to resort to these threats? I thought we had a good working relationship."

  "I thought so too. But clearly I was wrong."

  They were silent.

  "So how is it going to be?" Wallander asked. "Am I suspended or am I not?"

  "You are not suspended," she said. "At least not right now."

  Wallander marched out of her office. He realised he was drenched in sweat. He locked his office door behind him, and the full force of his emotions assailed him. He wanted no more than to write his resignation, clear out his office and leave the station for good. The afternoon meeting, and every future meeting, would have to take place without him. He was never coming back.

  At the same time something inside him resisted the furious urge. If he left now, it would look as if he was guilty. That way the verdict of the investigation wouldn't have much impact. He would be forever tainted.

  Slowly he arrived at his decision. He would go on working for now, but he would inform his colleagues of the situation. The vital thing was that he had let Holgersson know how things stood. He did not intend to toe the line on this or to ask for mercy.

  He began to calm down. He opened his door wide and got on with his work. At noon he went home and took his clothes out of the dryer. He picked out the pieces of Elvira's letter from the bin. He didn't have a very good reason for doing that; perhaps it was because she had nothing to do with the police.

  He had lunch at István's restaurant and chatted with one of his father's friends who was there. He returned to the station shortly after 1.30 p.m.

  He walked in, feeling somewhat on edge. Holgersson could have changed her mind since their meeting and decided to suspend him after all. He didn't know how he would react to this. He couldn't even begin to imagine what his life would look like after that. Secretly he found the idea of handing in his resignation appalling. But there were only a few unimportant messages waiting for him. Holgersson had not tried to reach him. Wallander took a few deep breaths and then called Martinsson. He was at Runnerströms Torg.

  "We're working slowly but surely," he said. "He's managed to break a couple more codes." Wallander could hear the rustling of paper. Then Martinsson came back on the line. "We have a connection to a stockbroker in Seoul and to a British firm, called Lonrho. I contacted a person in Stockholm who was able to tell me that Lonrho was originally an African company that was involved in illegal operations in Southern Rhodesia during the time of sanctions."

  "What are we supposed to deduce from this?" Wallander broke in. "A stockbroker in Korea? And this other company, whatever its name is. How does it relate to Falk and our investigation?"

  "We're trying to work it out. Modin says there are about 80 companies entered into this program. But it will take us a while to find out what the connections between them are."

  "But if you had to speculate, what would you say?"

  Martinsson chuckled. "I see money."

  "Anything else?"

  "Isn't that enough?"

  "Who knows," Wallander said. "Perhaps the key player in all of this isn't Falk but the cash machine where he died."

  Martinsson laughed. Wallander suggested that they meet at around 3 p.m.

  After the conversation ended, Wallander thought about Elvira Lindfeldt. He tried to imagine what she could look like, but he kept finding himself thinking of Baiba. And Mona. And a glimpse of a woman he had met once at a roadside café outside Västervik.

  He was interrupted in his thoughts by Hansson, who appeared in the doorway. Wallander felt guilty, as if his thoughts were written on his face.

  "All the keys are accounted for," Hansson said.

  Wallander couldn't think what he was talking about, but he didn't say anything because he felt sure that he should know.

  "I have a fax from Sydkraft," he said. "All people who had keys to the substation can account for them."

  "Good," Wallander said. "It's always a help to be able to strike something off our list."

  "Unfortunately, I haven't been able to trace the Mercedes van."

  Wallander leaned back in his chair. "You can put that aside for now. We'll get to it eventually, but there are more important tasks."

  Hansson nodded and wrote something in his notebook. Wallander told him about the 3 p.m. meeting.

  Putting aside his thoughts of Elvira and her appearance, he got back to his paperwork and also thought about what Martinsson had said. The phone rang. It was Viktorsson, asking how the case was going.

  "I thought Hansson was keeping you abreast of all developments."

  "But you are in charge."

  Viktorsson's comment surprised Wallander. He had been sure that Holgersson had arrived at her decision to suspend him in consultation with Viktorsson, but he was pretty sure that Viktorsson was not being disingenuous when he said that Wallander was in charge. Wallander instantly warmed towards him.

  "I can see you tomorrow morning."

  "I'm free at 8.30 p.m."

  Wallander made a note of it. Then he spent another half-hour preparing for the meeting. At 2.40 p.m. he went to get more coffee, but the machine was broken. Wallander thought once more about Erik Hökberg's observation about the vulnerability of society. That gave him a new idea. He went back to his office to give Hökberg a call. He answered at once. Wallander gave him what details he could about the latest developments and asked him if the name Jonas Landahl meant anything to him. Hökberg said no, definitely no. Wallander was surprised.

  "Are you absolutely sure?"

  "The name is unusual enough that I would have remembered it. Was he the one who killed Sonja?"

  "We only know that they knew each other and we have some information which indicates that they may even have been more than just friends."

  Wallander wondered if he ought to raise the subject of rape, but decided that it wasn't something they should discuss over the phone. Instead, he moved on to the question he had been wanting to ask.

  "When I was out to see you last, you told me about your computer transactions. I came away with the impression then that there were no limits really to what you could do."

  "That's right. If you connect to the large databases around the world then you're at the centre of things, wherever you are yourself."

  "You could do business with a stockbroker in Seoul if you felt like it."

  "Yes, indeed."

  "What would I need to know in order to do that?"

  "First, you would need his e-mail address. Then the security systems have to match up. He has to be able to see who I am, and vice versa. Otherwise there are no real problems. None of a technical nature, at any rate."

  "What would those be?"

  "Each country has its own set of laws and regulations governing trade. You would have to know what those are, unless you are operating illegally."

  "Since there is so much money involved, the security measures must be damned stringent. Could they, do you think, be cracked?"

  "I'm not the right man to answer those questions. But as a police officer you should know that anyone with a strong enough desire can do almost anything. What is it people say? If you really wanted to kill the President of the USA, you could do it. But I'm getting curious as to why you're asking me these questions."

  "You impressed me as having a great deal of technical expertise."

  "Only on the surface. The electronic world is so complicated and is changing so fast that I doubt there's anyone out there who understands it completely. Or who has control over it."

  Wallander said he would be in touch with him soon. Then he went to the conference room. Hansson and Nyberg were there already. They were complaining about the coffee machine breaking down more and more often these days. Wallander nodded to them and sat down just as Höglund and Martinsson arrived. Wallander had not yet decided whether to begin or to end by describing his meeting with Holgersson. He decided to wait. His hard-working colleagues were involved in a tough enough investigation as it was, and he shouldn't burden them more than was absolutely necessary.

  They began by discussing the events surrounding Landahl's death. There were no eyewitness accounts. No-one had seen him on the ferry, no-one had seen him make his way to the engine room.

  "I find it very strange," Wallander said. "No-one saw him, either when he paid for his cabin or anywhere on the ship. No-one saw him enter the restricted area leading to the engine room. It makes no sense."

  "He must have travelled with someone," Höglund said. "I spoke to one of the engineers before I got here and he said it would have been impossible for Landahl to squeeze himself into the propeller shaft on his own."

  "So he must have been forced into that position," Wallander said. "Which means that now we have two people who managed to find their way into the engine room without being seen. And one who made his way back. We can draw a conclusion from this, which is that Landahl must have gone willingly with this person. If he had been dragged there someone would be bound to have noticed, and it would have been hard for the killer to force Landahl down those ladders."

  They talked through various aspects of the case until 6 p.m., at which time Wallander decided that they were no longer being productive. Everyone was worn out. Wallander decided not to mention his conversation with Holgersson. He simply didn't have the energy.

  Martinsson went back to Runnerströms Torg. Hansson brought up the point that Modin should probably be compensated in some way. Nyberg yawned. He still had oil under his fingernails. Wallander talked for a few more minutes with Hansson and Höglund in the corridor. They assigned some of the tasks that remained. Then Wallander went to his office and closed his door.

  He stared at the phone for a long time without understanding his hesitation. Finally he dialled Elvira's number.

  She answered after the seventh ring. "Lindfeldt."

  Wallander put the phone down, waited a few minutes, and then dialled her number again. This time she answered immediately. He liked the sound of her voice.

  Wallander said who he was and they chatted for a few minutes. It was apparently quite windy in Malmö, more so than in Ystad. Elvira also complained that many of her colleagues at work were coming down with colds. Wallander agreed. Autumn was always a difficult time that way. He was recovering from a sore throat himself.

  "It would be nice to get together sometime," she said.

  "I'm not a big believer in dating agencies," he said, regretting it as soon as the words left his mouth.

  "It's really no better or worse than any other way to meet people," she said. "We're both adults, after all."

  Then she said another thing that surprised him. She asked him what he was doing that evening. She suggested that they meet in Malmö. I can't, Wallander thought. This is far too fast and I have work to do, but then he said yes. They agreed to meet at 8.30 p.m. in the Savoy bar.

  "We'll skip the carnations," she said. "I am sure we'll be able to pick each other out."

  Wallander wondered what he was getting himself into, but he was also excited. It was 6.30 p.m. He had to get ready.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Wallander parked outside the Savoy at exactly 8.27 p.m. He had driven much too fast from Ystad because he thought he would be late. He had taken so long deciding what he was going to wear. He picked a clean but unironed shirt from a pile of washed clothes and then couldn't settle on which tie. Finally, he decided against wearing one at all. And his shoes needed polishing. The result was that he left the flat later than he had planned.

  Hansson had also called him as he was cleaning his shoes, and asked him if he knew where Nyberg was. Wallander had not discovered why he needed to know so badly. He had kept his answers so brisk that Hansson had asked him if he was pressed for time. Wallander had been so cold that Hansson had asked no further questions. When he was about to leave, the phone rang again. This time it was Linda. There was a lull at the restaurant and her boss was on holiday, so she thought she would come and stay with him. Wallander nearly told her where he was going. Linda was the one, after all, who had encouraged him to get into this in the first place. She gathered straight away that he was in a hurry. Wallander could never put anything past her, but nevertheless he tried to convince her that he was on his way to attend to police business. They arranged that she would call the next evening.

  Once on the road, Wallander realised that he was almost out of petrol. He might make it to Malmö, but he didn't want to take a chance on it. He stopped at a petrol station outside Skurup and was worried that he might not be there on time. He still bore the scar of the time he had been 10 minutes late for a date with Mona and she had simply left.

  But he did make it in time. He sat in the car for a moment and looked at his face in the mirror. He was thinner now than a few years ago and his features were more sharply defined. She wouldn't know that he had his father's face. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He forced all his expectations away. He wasn't likely to be disappointed, but she probably would be. They would meet in the bar, have a drink and that would be it. He would be in his bed by midnight. When he woke up the next day he would have forgotten her already and also be confirmed in his suspicions that this dating agency business was not for him.

  He sat in the car until almost 8.40 p.m., then got out and walked across the street to the Savoy.

 

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