Firewall - By Henning Mankell & Ebba Segerberg Page 0,41

It was a childish display, he knew, but he thought it would hit its mark. He assumed that Höglund would be given the responsibility of talking to Persson. She knew what to ask; he didn't have to prepare her.

Wallander collected his coat and left. He would be using his time to check something else. Before leaving the station he put two photographs from the case file into his pocket. He walked down towards the centre of town. One aspect of the case had continued to bother him. Why had Hökberg been killed, and why in such a way as to cut power to large parts of Skåne? Had that been intended or mere chance?

He crossed the main square and ended up on Hamngatan. The restaurant where Hökberg and Persson had had their beers wasn't yet open. He peered in through a window. Someone was there, and it was a man he recognised. He knocked on the pane. The man went on with his work behind the counter. Wallander knocked harder and the man looked up. When he recognised Wallander, he smiled and came to open the door.

"It's not even nine yet," he said. "Do you want pizza already?"

"Sort of," Wallander said. "A cup of coffee would be nice. I need to talk to you."

István Kecskeméti had come to Sweden from Hungary in 1956. He had run a number of restaurants in Ystad and Wallander had made it a habit to eat at one or other of them when he didn't have the energy to cook for himself. He talked a lot at times, but Wallander liked him. He was also one of the few people who knew of Wallander's diabetes.

"You don't stop by very often," István said. "When you come, we're closed. That means you want something other than food." He raised his arms and sighed. "Everyone comes to István for help. Sports clubs and charities, someone who wants to start a cemetery for animals – all want money. They promise some advertising in return. But how is advertising in a pet cemetery to help a pizzeria? Perhaps you also want something? Is it a donation to the Swedish Police Force?"

"Answers to a couple of questions will do fine," Wallander said. "Last Wednesday – were you here?"

"I'm here always. But last Wednesday is a while ago."

Wallander put the two photographs on the table. The lighting was poor.

"See if you recognise either of these faces."

István took the photographs to the bar. He looked at them for a long time before he said, "I think so."

"Did you hear about the taxi murder?"

"A terrible thing – how can it happen? And such young people." Then István understood the connection. "These two?"

"Yes. And they were here that evening. I badly need you to tell me everything you remember. Where they sat, who they were with, that kind of thing."

István strained to remember the evening, while Wallander waited. He picked up the photographs and walked around the restaurant. He walked slowly and seemed to be searching. He's looking for his guests, Wallander thought. He's doing what I would have done. The question is: will he find them?

István stopped at a table by the window. Wallander walked over to it.

"I think here," István said.

"Who sat in which seat?"

István looked troubled. Wallander waited again while István walked around the table a couple of times. Then, as if he were handing out menus, he put the photographs of Hökberg and Persson in front of their seats.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

But Wallander saw him wrinkle his brow. He was still trying to remember something.

"There was something that happened that evening," he said. "I remember them because I had doubts about one of them being 18."

"She wasn't," Wallander said. "But forget it."

Wallander waited. He saw how István was struggling to remember.

"Something happened that evening," he said, again. Then he remembered what it was. "They changed places," he said. "At some point that evening they switched seats."

Wallander sat in the chair where Hökberg had spent the first part of the evening. From that seat, he could see a wall and the window over the street. Most of the restaurant was behind him. When he changed seats he saw the front door. Since a pillar and a booth hid much of the rest of the room, he had a clear view of only one table, a table for two.

"Did anyone sit there?" he said, pointing to the table. "Did anyone sit there when the girls changed places?"

"Actually, yes," István said. "Someone did come in