Part 7 (1/2)

”I know exactly what I promised. I have one more question, though. What are you frightened of? Why did we have to meet in the middle of the night?”

”I'm not frightened,” the man said, as he put the chart away. ”And if I was, that would be my business.”

Wallander tried to think of any other questions he should ask before it was too late.

Neither of them noticed the slight movement of the boat. It was a gentle dip, so gentle it was no wonder that it pa.s.sed unnoticed, like a faint swell that only just reached land.

Wallander climbed up from the engine room, and shone his torch quickly over the walls of the wheelhouse. He couldn't see anything that would make it easy to identify the boat again later.

”Where can I get in touch with you if I need to?” he asked when they were back on the quay.

”You can't,” the man said. ”And in any case, you won't need to. There's nothing more I can tell you.”

Wallander counted his paces as he walked along the quay. When he put his foot down for the 73rd time he felt the gravel of the harbour square. The man had been swallowed up by the shadows: he'd taken his torch and disappeared without another word. Wallander sat in his car without switching on the engine. For a moment he thought he saw a shadow moving in the darkness, but then decided he'd imagined it. It dawned on him that he was meant to drive away first. When he came out onto the main road he slowed down, but no headlights appeared in his rear-view mirror.

It was 2.45 a.m. when he reached home. He sat at his kitchen table and noted down the details of the conversation he had had in the fis.h.i.+ng boat. The Baltic states, he thought. Can the life-raft really have drifted all that way? He went to the living room and found his tattered school atlas in a cupboard among piles of old magazines and opera programmes. Southern Sweden and the Baltic Sea. The Baltic states seemed quite close and yet far away at the same time. I know nothing about the sea, he thought, about currents and winds. Perhaps the man was right? And why would he have told me something he knew was untrue? Once again, he thought of the man's fear, and the other crew member, the unknown man, of whom he was so afraid.

It was 4 a.m. by the time he went back to bed. He lay awake for a long time before he managed to fall asleep.

He awoke with a start. The clock on his bedside table said 7.46 a.m. He cursed, jumped out of bed and dressed. He stuffed his toothbrush and toothpaste in his jacket pocket, and parked outside the station just before 8 a.m. In reception, Ebba beckoned to him.

”Bjork wants to see you,” she said. ”You look a sight! Did you oversleep?”

”And how,” Wallander said, darting into the lavatory to brush his teeth. At the same time he tried to gather his thoughts in preparation for the meeting. How on earth was he to deal with his nocturnal excursion to a fis.h.i.+ng boat in Brantevik harbour?

When he got to Bjork's office, there was n.o.body there. He made his way to the largest of the station's conference rooms, and knocked on the door, feeling like a schoolboy turning up late for cla.s.ses.

There were six people sitting round the oval table, and they all stared at him.

”I'm a few minutes late, I'm afraid,” he said, sitting down on the nearest empty chair. Bjork was looking at him sternly, but Martinsson and Svedberg grinned and looked as if they wondered where he'd been. He thought Svedberg might even be sneering at him. Birgitta Torn was on Bjork's left, inscrutable as ever. Next to her were two other people who Wallander didn't know. He stood up and went to greet them. Both men were in their 50s, surprisingly alike, well-built and with friendly faces. The first one introduced himself as Sture Ronnlund, the other was Bertil Loven.

”I'm from serious crime,” Loven said. ”Sture's from narcotics.”

”Kurt is our most experienced officer,” Bjork said. ”Please help yourselves to coffee.”

When everybody had fetched a cup, Bjork started the meeting.

”Needless to say, we're grateful for all the help we can get,” he began. ”None of you can have failed to notice the stir caused in the media by the discovery of these bodies. That is why we need to conduct this investigation with extra vigour and commitment. Birgitta Torn has joined us primarily as an observer and to be of a.s.sistance when it comes to making contacts with countries where Interpol has no influence, but that doesn't prevent us from taking advantage of her expertise.”

Then it was Wallander's turn. Everybody had copies of the case doc.u.ments, so he didn't bother to go into detail, but simply summarised what had happened. He spent some time on the results of the forensic examination. When he'd finished, Loven asked for clarification on a few points. That was all. Bjork looked round the room.

”Well,” he said, ”what next?”

Wallander could feel himself getting annoyed at the way Bjork was deferring to the woman from the foreign ministry and the two Stockholm detectives. He couldn't resist firing a shot across their bows, and indicated to Bjork that he wanted to speak.

”Too much of this is unclear,” he said, ”and I don't just mean the case itself. I don't understand why the foreign ministry has considered it necessary to send Birgitta Torn to Ystad. I can't believe the ministry simply wants to help us in establis.h.i.+ng contacts with the Russian police. It seems to me that the foreign ministry has decided to keep an eye on our investigation, and if so, I'd like to know just what is going to be watched. And most of all, of course, why the ministry has reached such a decision. For obvious reasons I can't help feeling that Stockholm knows something we don't. Or perhaps it isn't the foreign ministry that has reached this conclusion - maybe it's somebody else?”

There was a deathly silence when Wallander had finished. Bjork was staring at him in horror.

Finally Birgitta Torn spoke.

”There's no reason to doubt the explanation we've given for our coming to Ystad,” she said. ”The unstable situation in Eastern Europe requires us to keep a very close eye on developments there.”

”We don't even know for sure that the men are from an Eastern bloc country,” Wallander said, interrupting her. ”Or do you know something we don't? In that case, I'd like to be put in the picture.”

”I think perhaps we should calm down a bit,” Bjork said.

”I want an answer to my questions,” Wallander said. ”I'm not going to be fobbed off with waffle about the unstable political situation.”

The inscrutable mask was suddenly gone from Birgitta Tom's face. She glared at Wallander, her expression indicating an increasing contempt and a wish to keep him at bay. Hmm, I'm awkward, Wallander thought, one of those ever-so-troublesome peasants.

”The situation is as I've described it,” Torn said. ”If you had any sense, you would realise there was no need to go on like this.”

Wallander shook his head, and turned to Loven and Ronnlund.

”What about your instructions?” he asked. ”Stockholm doesn't usually send out people unless there's been a formal request for a.s.sistance, and we haven't made such a request, so far as I know. Or have we?”

Bjork shook his head.

”OK, so Stockholm has decided this on its own initiative. I'd like to know why, if we're going to be working together. I'm a.s.suming the ability of our force to conduct its business efficiently hasn't been impugned before we've even started.”

Lovn was shuffling uneasily, but it was Ronnlund who answered. Wallander detected a note of sympathy in his voice.

”The commissioner thought you might need a bit of help,” he said. ”Our remit is to place ourselves at your disposal. That's all. You're in charge of the investigation, and if we can be of a.s.sistance, so much the better. Neither Bertil nor I have any doubts about your ability to conduct this case on your own, and for myself, I think you've acted speedily and decisively over the last few days.”

Wallander nodded in appreciation. Martinsson was grinning, and Svedberg was picking thoughtfully at his teeth with a splinter he'd broken from the conference table.

”Well, perhaps we can consider where to go from here,” Bjork said.

”Indeed,” Wallander said. ”I have a few theories I'd like to test out on you, but first I'd like to tell you about a little adventure I had during the night.”

He felt calm again. He'd pitted himself against Birgitta Torn and not been vanquished. He'd find out what she was really doing here soon enough. Ronnlund's support had made him feel better. He told them about his telephone call and his visit to the fis.h.i.+ng boat in Brantevik. He stressed that the man had been certain the life-raft could have drifted from as far as one of the Baltic states. Bjork was inspired to take unexpected initiatives, and asked reception to arrange for charts of the whole area to be sent up immediately. Wallander imagined Ebba collaring the next officer that sauntered through reception, instructing him to produce the maps without delay. He poured himself another cup of coffee, and started to explain his theories.

”The evidence points to the men having been murdered on board a s.h.i.+p,” he said. ”You would expect the bodies to have been disposed of in the ocean, but I suspect that the killers wanted the bodies to be found. I find it difficult to explain why that should be so, not least because it must have been very uncertain where and when the life-raft would wash ash.o.r.e. Anyway, the men were shot at close range after being tortured. People are tortured as punishment, or to extract information. The next thing to bear in mind is that both men were under the influence of drugs, amphetamines to be precise. Somehow or other, drugs are involved in this case. I have the distinct impression these men were not short of money - their clothes make that clear. By Eastern European standards they must have been pretty well off if they could afford to buy the shoes and clothes they were wearing. I'd never be able to afford their clothes.”

Loven burst out laughing at his final remark, but Birgitta Torn continued staring doggedly down at the table.

”We know quite a lot, even if we can't fit the bits of the jigsaw together to produce a picture that gives us the sequence of events and the reason the men were murdered. There's one thing we need to establish immediately: who were these men? That's what we must concentrate on. And we must also get a ballistic report on the bullets that killed them without delay. I want a check on all missing or wanted persons in Sweden and Denmark. Fingerprints, photos and descriptions of the men must be sent immediately to Interpol. Maybe we'll find something in our criminal records. And we need to contact the police in the Soviet Union and the Baltic states, a.s.suming that hasn't happened already. Perhaps Birgitta Torn can fill us in on this?”

”That will happen later today,” she said. ”We'll be contacting the international division of the Moscow police.”

”The police in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania must be contacted as well.”

”That will happen via Moscow.”

Wallander looked questioningly at her, then turned to Bjork. ”Didn't we have a visit from the Lithuanian police last autumn?”

”What Birgitta Torn says is no doubt correct,” Bjork said. ”The Baltic states have their own national police forces, but it's still the Soviet police that makes the formal decisions.”

”I wonder,” Wallander said. ”Still, I dare say that the foreign ministry knows more about this than I do.”