Firewall - By Henning Mankell & Ebba Segerberg Page 0,166
we cannot know if it will begin on the stroke of midnight or at any point after that. Quite possibly, the intended event is a form of computer virus that targets all of these financial institutions we have identified. Since they are mostly large and powerful financial institutions we imagine the event has something to do with money, but whether we are talking about a form of electronic bank robbery or not we don't know."
"What would be the worst thing that could happen?" Wallander said.
"The collapse of the world financial markets."
"But is that even possible?"
"We've been through this point before. If there were a significant enough disruption of the markets or a severe fluctuation in the dollar, for example, it might incite a panic in the public which would be hard to control."
"That's what is going to happen," Modin said.
Everyone stared at him. He was sitting with his legs crossed next to Wallander.
"Why do you say that? Do you know it for a fact?"
"No, not for a fact. But I think this is going to be so big we can't even imagine it. We're not going to be able to deduce what is going to happen before it's too late."
"How does the whole thing start? Isn't there a starting point, some kind of button that needs to be pressed?"
"I imagine it will be started by some action so ordinary we would have trouble recognising it as a threat."
"The hypothetical coffee machine," Hansson said.
"The only thing we can do right now is keep going," Wallander said. "We don't have a choice."
"I left some diskettes in Malm枚," Modin said. "I need them to keep working."
"I'll send out a car to get them for you."
"I'll go too," Modin said. "I need to get out. And I know of a store in Malm枚 that stays open late and has the kind of food I like."
Wallander nodded and got up. Hansson called for a patrol car that would take Modin to Malm枚. Wallander called Elvira. The line was busy. He tried again. Now she answered. He told her what had happened, that Modin needed to come and pick up the diskettes he had left behind. She said it was no problem. Her voice sounded normal now.
"Can I expect to see you as well?" she said.
"Unfortunately, I don't have the time right now."
"I won't ask you why."
"Thank you. It would take too long to explain."
Alfredsson and Martinsson were leaning over Falk's computer again. Wallander, Hansson and H枚glund returned to the station. When Wallander reached his office the phone rang. It was the reception desk, telling him he had a visitor.
"Who is it and what is it about?" Wallander asked. "I'm extremely busy."
"It's someone who says she's your neighbour. A Mrs Hartman."
Wallander worried that something had happened in his flat. A few years ago there had been a bad leak. Mrs Hartman was a widow who lived in the flat beneath his. That time, too, she had called him at the station.
"I'll come straight away," Wallander said.
When he reached the waiting area, Mrs Hartman was able to assuage his fears. There was no leak, just a letter for him that had been put through her letter box.
"It must be the post," she complained. "It probably came on Friday, but I've been away and only came back today. I thought it might be important, that's all."
"You shouldn't have gone to the trouble, coming down here," Wallander said. "I rarely get post that is so important it can't wait."
After Mrs Hartman had left, Wallander went back to his room and opened the letter. There was no return address on the envelope. To his surprise, it was a notice from the dating agency, thanking him for his subscription and saying that they would forward responses as they arrived.
Wallander crumpled the letter and threw it into the waste-paper basket. The next couple of seconds his mind was a total blank. He frowned, retrieved the letter, smoothed it out and read it again. Then he looked for the envelope, still without knowing exactly why. He stared at the postmark for a long time. The letter had been posted on Thursday.
His mind was still empty.
Thursday. It was the dating agency telling him that his information was now entered in their records. But by then he had already received a reply from Elvira Lindfeldt. Her letter had arrived in an envelope that had been brought directly to his door. A letter with no postmark.