Wallander and Martinsson turned their backs to him and started discussing the matter of his payment in low tones. Wallander said he would deal with it. Neither one of them noticed that Modin had copied the remaining material on to his computer. They said goodbye outside in the rain. Martinsson was going to drive Modin home. Wallander shook his hand and thanked him.
Then he drove to the station. He thought about the fact that Elvira Lindfeldt was coming from Malmö that evening. He was both excited and nervous. But before then he had to sit down with the others to rethink the case. Hökberg's rape had dramatically altered the significance of certain events.
When Wallander walked in through the front doors he saw that someone was waiting in reception. The man came over and introduced himself as Rolf Stenius. The name was familiar to Wallander, but he couldn't place it until the man explained that he was Falk's accountant.
"I should have called you before coming down here," Stenius said. "But I happened to be in town for another meeting and thought perhaps I'd drop in."
"It's not a good time," Wallander said. "But I can spare a couple of minutes."
They went to his office. Rolf Stenius was a gaunt man, about his own age, with thinning hair. Wallander remembered seeing in a memo that Hansson had been in contact with him. Stenius took a plastic folder from his briefcase.
"I had already been told the sad news of Falk's death when the police contacted me."
"Who told you?"
"Falk's ex-wife."
Wallander nodded for him to continue.
"I've made a spreadsheet for you of the past two years, and also included other things that may be of interest to you."
Wallander accepted the plastic folder without looking at it.
"Was Falk a rich man?"
"That depends on what you mean by rich. He had about ten million kronor."
"Then, in my book, he was rich. Did he have any outstanding debts?"
"Nothing of any consequence. His operating costs were also quite low," Stenius said.
"His income came from his various consulting projects. Is that correct?"
"I've given you all the information in this folder."
"Was there any one project that was significantly more lucrative than the others?"
"Some of his projects in the US paid very well, but nothing really out of the ordinary."
"What kind of projects were those?"
"Among other things he worked for a national advertising chain. Apparently he helped improve their graphic design program."
"What else?"
"He worked for a whisky importer by the name of DuPont. He made some kind of advanced warehouse storage program."
"Did his revenues grow less rapidly in the past year?"
"I don't think one could say that. He always made wise investments and never put all his eggs in one basket. He had money in Swedish and other Scandinavian and American funds. He kept a good amount of cash on hand, and he invested in several reputable companies. Ericsson, for example."
"Who handled his stock market account?"
"He did that himself, mostly."
"Did he have any interests in Angola?"
"Where did you say?"
"Angola."
"Not that I know of."
"Could he have had such interests without your knowing about it?"
"Of course. But I don't think so. Falk was a very honest man. He felt strongly about paying his taxes. When I suggested he think about moving his assets abroad so as to achieve a more favourable tax rate he was very upset."
"In what way?"
"He threatened to get a new accountant."
Wallander felt tired.
"Thank you," he said. "I'll look through these papers as soon as I have a chance."
"It's a sad affair," Stenius said, and closed his briefcase. "Falk was a good man. Overly reserved, perhaps, but amiable."
Wallander escorted him back to reception.
"Did you have regular meetings with Falk?"
"I took care of most of the business over the phone."
"So you didn't have to meet in person?"
"It's often sufficient to circulate documents and have people sign them in their own time."
Stenius left the station, unfurling his umbrella as he went. Wallander returned to his office and wondered if anyone had had a chance to speak to Falk's children. We don't even have time for the most important tasks, he thought. We're working our fingers to the bone, but the justice system is degenerating into a crumbling warehouse of unsolved cases.
At 3.30 p.m., the investigative team gathered for a meeting. Nyberg sent his apologies. Höglund reported that he was suffering from vertigo. They speculated gloomily who among them would be the first to suffer a heart attack. Then they launched into the discussion about Hökberg's rape and its possible consequences for the case. Wallander insisted that Carl-Einar Lundberg be brought in for questioning as soon as possible and looked over to Viktorsson, who nodded his assent. Wallander also asked Höglund to find out if Lundberg senior had been involved in any way.
"You think he had been after her too?" Hansson said. "What kind of a family is that?"
"We have to know all the facts," Wallander said.
"I can't swallow the theory of a revenge by proxy," Martinsson said. "I'm sorry, but that just seems too farfetched to me."
"We're not discussing how we feel about these things," Wallander said. "We're talking about facts."
His voice was sharper than he intended. He saw that the others round the table had noticed it. He hurried on in a more friendly tone.
"What about the National Police and their computer specialists? What did they say?"
"Well, they whined when I insisted that someone come down right away, but someone will be here by 9 a.m. tomorrow."
"Does this someone have a name?"
"His name is actually Hans Alfredsson."
Everyone burst out laughing. Hans, or rather Hasse, Alfredsson was a legendary Swedish comedian. Martinsson volunteered to meet his plane at Sturup.
"Do you think you'll be able to show him what's been done so far?" Wallander said.
"Yes. I made plenty of notes while Modin was working."
They finished the meeting by talking about Jonas Landahl. Hansson had already contacted his parents and received information over the phone that enabled them to identify the body. The couple had been in Corsica and were now on their way home. Nyberg had sent Höglund a memo in which he stated that Sonja Hökberg had indeed been in Landahl's car, and that the car had been at the substation that night. They now knew that Landahl had no previous record, but that did not mean that he had not been involved in the releasing of the minks at the farm in Sölvesborg, when Falk had been apprehended.
It was almost 6 p.m. Wallander felt they were not going to get any further and ended the meeting. They would meet again on Saturday. Wallander was now in a hurry. He needed to clean the flat and get himself ready before Elvira arrived. But he went to his office and called Nyberg. It took so long for him to answer that Wallander was getting worried. Finally he answered, furious as usual, and Wallander was able to relax. Nyberg said he was feeling better and would be at work the following day.
Wallander had just managed to tidy up in his flat and change his clothes when the phone rang. Elvira was calling from her car. She had just passed the exit to Sturup. Wallander had booked a table at a fancy Ystad restaurant. He gave her the directions to the main square where they arranged to meet. He put the receiver down so clumsily that it fell to the floor. He picked it up again, cursing, when he suddenly remembered that he and Linda had agreed to talk this evening. He thought for a while and then decided to leave the number of the restaurant on his answerphone in case anyone needed to reach him. There was a chance that a journalist would call, but he decided that it was only a small one. Interest in the scandal seemed to have died down.
He left the car at home and walked. It had stopped raining and the wind had also died d
own. Wallander was feeling a twinge of disappointment. She had taken the car and not the train. That meant she was planning to return to Malmö this evening. But his hopes were unreasonable. He concentrated on the fact that for once he was going to have the pleasure of dining with a beautiful woman.
He stopped outside the bookshop on the main square and waited. After about 5 minutes he saw her come walking along Hamngatan. He felt suddenly shy, and was baffled by her directness. While they were walking up Norregatan to the restaurant he felt her take his arm. They were passing the building where Svedberg had lived. Wallander stopped and told her about what had happened here. She listened attentively.
"How do you feel about it now?" she said.
"I don't know. It's like a bad dream. Something I can't accept really happened."
The restaurant was small and had only been open about a year. Wallander had never been there, but Linda had recommended it. Wallander had been expecting it to be full, but only a few tables were taken.
"Ystad is hardly a bustling metropolis," he said, by way of an apology. "But the food is supposed to be good."
A waitress whom Wallander recognised from the Continental Hotel showed them to their table.
"You took the car," Wallander said, studying the wine list.
"Yes, I thought I'd drive back."
"Then I'll be drinking the wine today."
"What do the police say about blood alcohol levels?"
"That it's best not to have any alcohol at all if you're planning to drive. But I think one glass is fine with a meal. If you like we can go up to the station after dinner and give you a breath test."
The food was excellent. Wallander finished his first glass of wine and pretended to hesitate before ordering another. The conversation so far had been mainly about his work. For once, he was enjoying it. He told her how he had been a very junior policeman in Malmö and been almost stabbed to death. She asked him about the cases he was involved in now and he was persuaded that she knew nothing about the picture in the paper. He told her about the strange death at the power substation, about the man who had been found at the cash machine and the boy who had been thrown between the propeller shafts on the Poland ferry.
They had just ordered coffee when the door to the restaurant opened. It was Modin. Wallander spotted him immediately. When Modin saw that Wallander was not alone he seemed to hesitate, but Wallander gestured for him to come over. He introduced Modin to Elvira. Wallander saw that he looked worried. He wondered what had happened.
"I think I've found something," Modin said.
"If you need to speak privately, I can leave," Elvira said.
"There's no need."
"I asked my dad to drive me from Löderup," Modin said. "I found out where you were from your answerphone."
"You said you thought you had something?"
"It's hard to explain without the computer in front of me, but I think I've managed to crack the last codes."
Modin looked sure of himself.
"Call Martinsson first thing tomorrow," Wallander said. "I'll tell him in advance of this development."
"I'm pretty sure I'm right."
"There was no need for you to come all this way," Wallander said. "You could have phoned me."
"I get a little carried away sometimes."
Modin nodded nervously in Elvira's direction. Wallander thought he should ask him more closely about the new breakthrough, but decided it could wait until the next day. He wanted to be left alone right now. Modin understood. He walked out again. The conversation had taken two minutes.
"He's a very talented young man," Wallander said as he left. "He's a computer buff and he's helping us with part of our investigation."
Elvira smiled. "He seemed like a nervous type. But I'm sure he's very good at what he does."
They left the restaurant around midnight and walked slowly back to Stortorget. Her car was parked on Hamngatan.
"I've had a wonderful time," she said when they said goodbye.
"You're not tired of me yet?"
"No. What about you?"
Wallander wanted her to stay longer, but he knew he had to let her go. They said they would talk again over the weekend. He gave her a hug. She left, and Wallander made his way home. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of the street. Is it possible? he thought. Have I really met someone? He walked on to Mariagatan and fell asleep shortly after 1 a.m.
Elvira Lindfeldt drove towards Malmö through the darkness. Short of Rydsgård she pulled into a parking space by the side of the road. She dialled a number in Luanda. She tried three times before she got through. It was not a good connection. When she heard Carter on the line, she came straight to the point.
"Fu Cheng was right. The person who is killing our system is called Robert Modin. He lives outside Ystad in a village called Löderup."
She repeated it until she was sure that he understood what she had said, and then the connection was broken.
She drove back onto the main road and continued on to Malmö.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Wallander called Linda on Saturday morning. He had woken at dawn but had managed to get back to sleep until shortly after 8 a.m. When he had finished breakfast, he called her flat in Stockholm. He woke her up. She asked him why had he not been at home the evening before. Twice she had called the number he had left on the answering machine, but it had been engaged both times. Wallander decided to tell her the truth. She listened without interrupting him.
"I never would have thought," she said, "that you had enough brains in your thick head to take my advice for once."
"I had my doubts."
"But not any more?"
She asked about Elvira and they talked for a long time. She was happy for him, though he kept trying to play it down. It was too early to read something into it. For now, it was enough not to have spent another Friday night alone.
"That's not true," she said. "I know you. You're hoping this will turn out to be the real thing. So am I." Then she changed the subject. "I want you to know that I saw that picture in the paper. It was a bit of a shock. Someone at the restaurant showed it to me and asked if that was my dad."
"What did you say?"
"I thought about saying no, but I didn't."
"That was nice of you."
"I simply made up my mind it couldn't be true."
"It isn't."
He told her what had actually happened, and about the internal investigation. He told her he was confident the truth would come out.
"It's important for me to hear this right now," she said. "It's very important right now."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you why. Not yet."
Wallander's curiosity was piqued. During the past few months he had begun to suspect that Linda's plans for the future had taken a new turn. But in what direction he had no idea. If he ever raised the subject, she always changed it. They ended their conversation by talking about when she was next coming to Ystad. She thought she could make it in mid-November, but not before.