Firewall - By Henning Mankell & Ebba Segerberg Page 0,138

as possible and looked over to Viktorsson, who nodded his assent. Wallander also asked H枚glund 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 H枚glund a memo in which he stated that Sonja H枚kberg 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 S枚lvesborg, 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 down. Wallander was feeling a twinge of disappointment. She had taken the car and not the train. That meant she was planning to return to Malm枚 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