Firewall - By Henning Mankell & Ebba Segerberg Page 0,157

of the international police agencies you can think of."

"If we're wrong we'll be the laughing stock of the world."

"We'll have to take that chance. Give me the papers and I'll sign them."

Martinsson left. Wallander stayed in the canteen, deep in thought. He didn't notice when H枚glund came in. He jumped when she appeared at his side.

"You know the poster of that film," she said, "the one you saw in H枚kberg's wardrobe?"

"The Devil's Advocate. I have the video at home, I just haven't had time to watch it."

"I don't think the film is so important, actually," she said. "But I've been thinking about Al Pacino. He resembles someone."

Wallander looked at her.

"Who does he resemble?"

"He looks like the man in her sketch. Carl-Einar Lundberg. He actually looks a little like Al Pacino."

She was right. Wallander had seen a picture of Lundberg in a file she had put on his desk. He just hadn't thought about the resemblance until now. Another detail fell into place.

They sat at a table. H枚glund was tired.

"I went to talk to Persson," she said. "I thought I would be able to get something more out of her. Silly me."

"How was she?"

"She is still impregnably nonchalant. That's the worst thing. I wish she looked as though she slept badly and cried at night. But she doesn't. She just sits there chewing her gum and seems mildly irritated at having to answer my questions."

"She's hiding her feelings," Wallander said. "We just can't see it."

"I do hope you're right."

Wallander briefed her on Modin's hypothesis of an impending financial collapse.

"We've never even been close to something like this," she said when he finished. "If it's true."

"We'll find out on Monday, I guess. Unless we think of some way to intervene."

"Do you think we will?"

"Maybe. Martinsson is contacting police from all over the world, and Alfredsson is getting in touch with all of the institutions on Falk's list."

"There isn't much time. If it really is set for Monday. It's the weekend already."

"There is never enough time," Wallander answered.

By 9 p.m. Modin was exhausted. It was agreed that he should not spend the next few nights at home, but when Martinsson suggested that he sleep at the station he refused point-blank. Wallander thought of calling Sten Wid茅n to see if he had space for an extra person, but decided against it; and for security reasons he could not stay with anyone on the investigative team, since they could also be considered a target.

Finally Wallander thought of someone to ask. Elvira Lindfeldt. She was completely unconnected, and it would also give him a chance to see her if only for a short while. He did not mention her name, but said he would take Modin to a safe place for the night.

He called her at 9.30 p.m. "I have a question that may seem a little strange," he said.

"I'm used to strange questions."

"Could you put someone up for the night?"

"Who would that be?"

"Do you remember the young man who came to the restaurant that night?"

"His name was Kolin?"

"Modin."

"Has he nowhere to sleep?"

"I'm only going to say that he needs a place to stay for a few nights."

"Of course he can stay here. How is he going to get here?"

"I'll give him a lift. We'll be there shortly."

"Would you like anything to eat when you arrive?"

"Some coffee would be good. That's all."

They left the station at 9.50 p.m. By the time they passed Skurup, Wallander was satisfied that no-one was following them.

Elvira put the receiver down slowly. She was happy, in fact more than happy. She was overjoyed. This was an amazing stroke of luck. She thought about Carter who was about to take off from the Luanda airport. He would be happy too. After all, this was exactly what he had wanted.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The night of Saturday, October 18, Wallander would remember as one of the worst in his life. Afterwards he would think back to a near accident that night as a sign. As they passed the turning to Svedala, someone had suddenly decided to overtake him just at the moment that a huge truck was bearing down on them from the other direction. Wallander turned as sharply as he could without driving off the road, and managed to avoid the car, but it had been close. Modin was asleep in the seat and didn't notice anything, but Wallander's heart was pounding inside his chest.

He kept driving and his mind reverted uneasily to what H枚glund had told him about Martinsson and his games. He had