“A somewhat unusual meeting place,” Putnis said, “but you are obviously a man of surprises. I must admit that I wonder how you managed to get into the country without our border guards noticing.”
“I hardly know myself,” Wallander said. “It’s a very long story.”
Putnis seemed concerned about his injured hand. “You ought to get that treated as soon as possible,” he said.
Wallander nodded, and smiled at Baiba. She was still tense and didn’t seem to understand what was going on.
“Murniers,” Wallander said. “So he was the one?”
Putnis nodded. “Major Liepa’s suspicions were well founded.”
“There’s a lot I don’t understand,” Wallander said.
“Colonel Murniers is a very intelligent person,” Putnis said. “Certainly, he’s an evil man, but I’m afraid that only shows that sharp minds often have a tendency to be located in heads belonging to brutal people.”
“Is that certain?” Baiba said suddenly. “That he was the one who killed my husband?”
“He wasn’t the one who smashed his skull,” Putnis said. “That is more likely to have been his faithful sergeant.”
“My driver,” Wallander said. “Sergeant Zids. The one who killed Inese and the others in the warehouse.”
Putnis nodded. “Colonel Murniers has never liked the Latvian nation,” he said. “Even though he played the part of a police officer who held the political world at a distance, as do all professionals, in his heart and soul he is a fanatical supporter of the old regime. As far as he’s concerned, God will always be in the Kremlin. That was the guarantee for his being able to form an unholy alliance with various criminals without interference. When Major Liepa began to see through him, he set false trails implicating me. I have to admit it was a long time before I began to suspect what was happening. Then I decided I might as well continue pretending not to know what was going on.”
“I still don’t understand, though,” Wallander said. “There must have been more to it than that. Major Liepa talked about a conspiracy, something that would make the whole of Europe realize what was happening in this country.”
Putnis nodded sagely. “Of course there was more to it than that,” he said. “Something much bigger than a high-ranking police officer being corrupt and protecting his privileges with as much brutality as was necessary. It was a devilish plot, and Major Liepa had realized that.”
Wallander felt cold. He was still holding Baiba’s hand. Putnis’s armed men had withdrawn and were standing by the fire door.
“It was all very cleverly worked out,” Putnis said. “Murniers had an idea and succeeded in selling it to the Kremlin and the leading Russian circles in Latvia. He had seen the possibility of killing two birds with one stone.”
“By using the new Europe, where the border controls no longer existed, in order to earn money from the organized smuggling of drugs,” Wallander said. “Including Sweden. But at the same time, he also used the drug smuggling to discredit the Latvian national movements. Am I right?”
Putnis nodded. “I could see from the start that you were a good police officer, Inspector Wallander. Very analytical, very patient. That’s exactly how Murniers had worked it out. The blame for the drug trafficking would be attached to the freedom movements here in Latvia, and in Sweden public opinion would be radically altered. Who would want to support a political freedom movement that thanked you for the support it was receiving by flooding your country with drugs? It can’t be denied that Murniers had created a weapon that was both dangerous and cleverly devised, a weapon that could have smashed the freedom movement in this country once and for all.”
Wallander thought about what Putnis had said.
“Do you understand?” he asked Baiba.
She nodded slowly.
“Where is Sergeant Zids?” he asked.
“As soon as I have the necessary proof, Murniers and Sergeant Zids will be arrested,” said Putnis. “I have no doubt Murniers is feeling very worried just now. He probably hasn’t realized that all the time we’ve been keeping watch on those of his men who’ve been keeping watch on you. Of course, you could criticize me for exposing you to unnecessary danger, but I assumed it was probably the only way of finding the papers Major Liepa must have left behind.”
“When I left the university yesterday, Zids was lying in wait for me,” said Baiba. “He told me that if I didn’t hand over the papers, Upitis would die.”
“Upitis is innocent, of course,” Putnis said. “Murniers had taken his sister’s two small children hostage, and told him they’d be killed unless Upitis confessed to being Major Liepa’s murderer. There really is no limit to what Murniers is capable of doing. It will come as a relief to the whole country once he’s been exposed for what he is, and condemned to death and executed, as will Sergeant Zids. The major’s evidence will be published. The plot will be revealed, not just in the courts, but it will be circulated to the whole nation. I’ve no doubt it will also be of interest to people beyond our borders.”
Wallander could feel relief seeping through his body. It was all over.
Putnis smiled.
“All that remains is for me to read Major Liepa’s documents,” he said. “And now you can go back home for real, Inspector Wallander. We are deeply grateful for the help you have given us.”
Wallander took the numbered tag out of his pocket.
“The file is blue,” he said. “It’s in a shopping bag at the coat check. Along with two records that I would like to have back.”
Putnis laughed. “You really are very clever, Mr. Wallander. You don’t put a foot wrong unless you’re forced to.”
Was it something in Putnis’s tone of voice that gave him away? Wallander never managed to work out precisely why he was suddenly struck by the awful thought—but just as Putnis was putting the tag into his pocket, it became crystal clear to Wallander that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. He simply knew without knowing why he knew. He could no longer distinguish between intuition and rational thought, and his mouth was as dry as a desert.
Putnis continued to smile as he took his pistol from out of his pocket. His men closed in, spreading themselves all over the roof and pointing their machine guns at Baiba and Wallander. She didn’t seem to grasp what was happening, and Wallander was struck dumb with fear and humiliation. At that very moment the fire door opened, and Sergeant Zids stepped out onto the roof. It occurred to Wallander’s confused mind that Zids must have been there behind the door all the time, waiting to make his entrance. The show was over now, and he didn’t need to wait in the wings anymore.
“Your only mistake,” Putnis said, his voice expressionless. “Everything I’ve just told you is absolutely true, of course. The only thing that distances my words from reality is my good self. Everything I said about Murniers applies to me. You were right and wrong at the same time, Inspector Wallander. If you had been a Marxist, like me, you would have realized that one must occasionally stand the world on its head in order to put it on its feet.”
Putnis took a step backwards. “I trust you will realize that it is not possible for you to return to Sweden,” he said. “After all, you’ll be quite close to heaven when you die, up here on the roof.”
“Not Baiba,” Wallander pleaded. “Not Baiba.”
“I’m so sorry,” Putnis said.
He raised his gun, and Wallander realized he was going to shoot Baiba first. There was nothing he could do; he would die here on the roof in the center of Riga. At that very moment the fire door burst open. Putnis gave a start and turned to see what had caused the unexpected noise. At the head of a large number of armed police officers pouring out onto the roof was Colonel Murniers. When he saw Colonel Putnis standing there with his gun in his hand, he did not hesitate. His own pistol was already drawn, and he shot Putnis through the chest, three bullets in rapid succession. Wallander threw himself over Baiba in order to shield her. A violent gun battle raged all over the
roof. Murniers’s and Putnis’s men tried to hide behind chimneys and ventilators. Wallander saw he was in the firing line, and tried to pull Baiba with him behind Putnis’s corpse. He suddenly noticed Sergeant Zids crouching behind one of the chimneys. Their eyes met, then Zids noticed Baiba, and it was immediately clear to Wallander that Zids was going to try to take both of them hostage in order to secure a safe passage for himself. Murniers’s men outnumbered the others, and several of Putnis’s henchmen had already been killed. Wallander could see Putnis’s pistol lying beside his body, but before he could reach it Zids had flung himself at him. Wallander thrust his injured hand into Zids’s face, and cried out in agony. Zids reeled from the force of the blow, his mouth started bleeding, but he had not been seriously hurt by Wallander’s desperate reaction. There was hatred in his eyes as he raised his gun to shoot the Swedish police officer who had caused him and his superior so much trouble. But when the shot rang out and Wallander realized he was still alive, he opened his eyes and registered that Baiba was kneeling beside him. She had Putnis’s pistol in her hands, and had shot Sergeant Zids between the eyes. She was crying, but he knew it was due to a mixture of fury and relief rather than the fear and misery she had been subjected to for so long.
The gunfire on the roof ceased just as suddenly as it had begun. Two of Putnis’s men were wounded, the rest were dead. Murniers looked grim as he examined one of his own men who had received a number of gunshots to the chest, then he walked over to Baiba and Wallander.
“I’m sorry it had to turn out like this,” he said apologetically, “but I had to know what Putnis said.”
“You’ll no doubt be able to read the full story in the major’s papers,” Wallander said.
“How could I have been sure they existed? And still less that you had found them?”
“By asking,” Wallander said.
Murniers shook his head. “If I’d contacted either of you, I’d have entered into open warfare with Putnis, he’d have fled the country and we’d never have been able to catch him. I had no option but to keep watch over you by constantly following on the heels of Putnis’s shadows.”
Wallander suddenly felt far too weary to listen anymore. His hand was throbbing and the pain was agonizing. He took Baiba’s hand and pulled himself up.
Then he passed out. When he came around he was on a table in a hospital, his hand was in a cast and the pain had gone at last. Colonel Murniers was standing in the doorway, cigarette in hand, watching him and smiling.
“Do you feel better now?” he asked. “Our doctors are very good. Your hand was not a pretty sight. You can have the X-rays to take home with you.”
“What happened?” Wallander asked.
“You fainted. I’m sure I would have too, if I’d been in your situation.”
Wallander looked around the examination room. “Where’s Baiba?”
“She’s at home in her apartment. She was very calm when I left her there a few hours ago.”
Wallander’s mouth was dry. He sat up gingerly on the edge of the treatment table.
“Coffee,” he said. “Can you get a cup of coffee here?”
Murniers burst out laughing.
“I’ve never known a man to drink as much coffee as you do,” he said. “Of course you can have some coffee. If you are feeling up to it, I suggest you come to my office so that we can wind up the whole business. Then I expect you and Baiba Liepa will have plenty to talk about. A police surgeon will give you an injection of painkillers if your hand starts hurting again. The doctor who put it in a cast said that could well happen.”
They drove across the city. It was already quite late in the day, and it was starting to get dark. When they drove through the arch into the courtyard of the police headquarters, it seemed to Wallander that this must surely be for the last time. On the way up to his office, Murniers paused to unlock a safe and take out the blue file. An armed guard was sitting beside the imposing safe.
“I suppose it’s a good idea to keep it locked up,” Wallander said.
Murniers looked at him in surprise. “A good idea?” he echoed. “It’s necessary, Inspector Wallander. Even if Putnis is now out of the way, it doesn’t mean that all our problems are solved. We are still living in the same world as before. We are living in a country torn apart by conflicting forces, and we won’t get rid of those simply by putting three bullets into the chest of a police colonel.”
Wallander reflected on Murniers’s words as they continued to his office. A man with a coffee tray was standing to attention outside the door. Wallander recalled his first visit to that dingy room. It seemed like a distant memory. Would he ever be able to grasp everything that had happened in between?
Murniers took a bottle out of a desk drawer and filled two glasses.
“It’s not pleasant to drink a celebratory toast when so many people have died,” he said, “but nevertheless, I think we deserve it. Especially you, Inspector Wallander.”
“I’ve done practically nothing except make mistakes,” Wallander said. “I’ve been on the wrong track, and didn’t catch on to how various things fitted together until it was too late.”
“On the contrary,” Murniers said. “I am very impressed by what you’ve done, and not least by your courage.”
Wallander shook his head. “I’m not a brave man,” he said. “I’m amazed that I’m still alive.”
They emptied their glasses and sat down at the table with the major’s testimony between them.
“I suppose I really only have one question,” Wallander said. “Upitis?”
Murniers nodded thoughtfully. “There was no limit to Putnis’s cunning and brutality. He needed a scapegoat, a plausible murderer. And he also needed an excuse to send you home. I could see right from the start that he was uneasy about your competence, and scared. He had his men kidnap two small children, Inspector Wallander. Two small children whose mother is Upitis’s sister. If Upitis didn’t confess to the murder of Major Liepa, those children would die. Upitis didn’t really have any choice. I often wonder what I would have done in the same situation. He’s been released now, of course. Baiba Liepa already knows he was not a traitor. We’ve also found the children who were being held hostage.”
“It all started with a life raft being washed ashore on the Swedish coast,” Wallander said, after a few moments’ thought.
“Colonel Putnis and his fellow conspirators had just commenced the large-scale operation involving the smuggling of drugs into various countries, including Sweden,” Murniers said. “Putnis had placed a number of agents in Sweden. They had tracked down various groups of Latvian émigrés and were about to start distributing the drugs that would lead to the discrediting of the Latvian freedom organization. But something happened on one of the vessels smuggling the drugs from Ventspils. It seems that some of the colonel’s men had improvised a sort of palace revolution and intended to commandeer a large amount of amphetamines for their own profit. They were found out, shot, and set adrift in a life raft. In the confusion nobody remembered the drugs stashed away inside the raft. As I understand it they spent a whole day searching for the raft, but failed to find it. We can now consider ourselves lucky that it was washed ashore in Sweden—if it hadn’t been, it is very likely that Colonel Putnis would have succeeded in his intentions. It was also Putnis’s agents who were cunning enough to retrieve the drugs from your police station once they had realized nobody had discovered what was hidden in the life raft.”
“Something else must have happened,” Wallander said thoughtfully. “Why did Putnis decide to kill Major Liepa the moment he got back home?”
“Putnis lost his nerve. He didn’t know what Major Liepa was up to in Sweden, and he couldn’t risk letting him stay alive without being able to check what he was doing all the time. As long as Major Liepa was in Latvia, it was possible to keep an eye on him, or at least to be aware of the people he met. Colonel Putnis simply got nervous. Sergeant Zids was given the order to kill Major Liepa. And he d
id.”
They sank into a long silence. Wallander could see Murniers was tired and worried.
“What happens now?” asked Wallander at last.
“I shall study Major Liepa’s papers thoroughly, of course,” Murniers replied. “Then we shall see.”
The reply made Wallander uneasy. “They must be published, of course,” he said.
Murniers didn’t respond, and Wallander suddenly realized that was not definite so far as Murniers was concerned. His interests were not necessarily the same as those of Baiba Liepa and her friends. For him it could well be enough to have unmasked Putnis. Murniers might have an entirely different view of the appropriateness of giving the story wider circulation. Wallander was upset at the thought that Major Liepa’s testimony might be swept under the carpet.
“I’d like a copy of the major’s report,” he said.
Murniers saw through his request immediately. “I didn’t know you could read Latvian,” he said.
“One can’t know everything,” Wallander replied.
Murniers stared at him for a long time, without speaking. Wallander looked him in the eye, and knew he must not give way. This was the last time he would be involved with Murniers in a trial of strength, and it was absolutely essential that he was not defeated. He owed that to the nearsighted little major.
All at once, Murniers made up his mind. He pressed the button fixed to the underside of the table, and a man appeared to fetch the blue folder. A little later Wallander received a copy, the existence of which would never be recorded. Murniers would disclaim any responsibility for it. A copy the Swedish police officer Inspector Wallander had appropriated for himself, without permission and against all the laws and regulations governing practices between friendly nations, and which he had then passed onto people who had no right to these secret documents. By doing this the Swedish police officer Kurt Wallander had displayed exceptionally poor judgment and should be condemned out of hand.