Firewall - By Henning Mankell & Ebba Segerberg Page 0,121

bed after Martinsson left. Although the memory of what happened after he broke into the Pentagon system was still raw, the temptation was too great. Besides, he had learned his lesson, he knew now to erase all his tracks.

Martinsson hadn't been watching when Modin copied some of the material he had accessed in Falk's computer. He hooked up his computers and started going through those files again, looking once more for clues and openings, new ways to climb the firewall.

A storm front came in over Luanda.

Carter had spent the evening reading a report that criticised the International Monetary Fund's operations in some East African countries. The criticisms were well formulated and devastating. Carter could not have done the job better himself, but he remained convinced of the necessity of what he had planned. There was no alternative at this point. If the world's financial systems remained as they were, there could be no true reform.

He put the report down and from the window watched the lightning dance across the sky. His night-time guards huddled under their makeshift rain shelter.

The air-conditioning unit in the study droned loudly. He was on his way to bed, but something led him to his desk. He knew at once that someone was trying to break into the server. But this time it was different. After a while he saw what it was. Whoever it was had become careless.

Carter dried his hands on a handkerchief. Then he began the pursuit of the person who was threatening to uncover his secret.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Wallander stayed at home until nearly 10 a.m. on Thursday. He had woken early, feeling fully rested. His joy at having been able to sleep undisturbed for a whole night was so great that it gave him a guilty conscience. He often wondered where his overdeveloped work ethic had come from. His mother had been a housewife who had never regretted not being free to work away from home. At least she had never complained about it.

His father had certainly never opted for extra work. Wallander had occasionally spied on him and was surprised by how little time he spent at his easel. Sometimes he had been reading a book and sometimes he had been fast asleep on the old mattress in a corner of the studio. Or he had been playing solitaire at the rickety old table. Wallander was beginning to look a lot like his father, but on the inside he was driven by a constant state of unrest and dissatisfaction, demons he had never seen in either of his parents.

He had called the station at 8 a.m. The only person he could get through to was Hansson. Everyone else was busy with their investigative tasks. He told Hansson to postpone their meeting until the afternoon. Then he went down to the laundry room to sign up ahead and found that all the morning hours were free. He had booked the next two hours and went back to collect his dirty washing.

The letter arrived while he was loading his clothes into the washing machine. It was on the floor in the hall. There was no stamp, no return address on the envelope. His name and address were handwritten. He put it on the kitchen table supposing that it must be some kind of invitation. He hung his bedclothes on the balcony to air. It was getting colder again, but there was no frost. He only opened the letter when it was time for his second cup of coffee. There was a second envelope inside with no name on it. He read the letter. At first he couldn't make any sense of it, but then it dawned on him that he had received a reply to his ad. He put the letter down, walked once round the table, then read it again.

The woman who had written to him was called Elvira Lindfeldt. She had not included a photograph of herself, but Wallander decided she must be very beautiful. Her handwriting was elegant and firm, no fussy loops or twiddly bits. The dating agency had forwarded his ad and she had found it interesting. She was 39 years old and divorced. She lived in Malm枚, and worked for a shipping company called Heinemann & Nagel. She ended her letter by giving her phone number and saying she hoped to hear from him soon. Wallander felt like a ravenous wolf who had at last succeeded in bringing down his prey. He was tempted to call her straight