didn't need to consult the scrap of paper with the address. He knew exactly where it was even as he had been writing it down. It was in an area only a few kilometres from where his father's house had been. Wallander had the feeling, too, that he had met Modin's father. He wound down the window and let the cold air wash over his face. He was annoyed with both Hansson and Martinsson. They're bending to pressure, he thought. Kowtowing to Chief Holgersson.
He turned off the main road at 12.15 a.m. There was a good chance that he was going to arrive at a house where everyone was sleeping. But his anger had chased the tiredness away. He wanted to see Robert Modin, and he wanted to take him to Runnerstr枚ms Torg.
He drove up to the house, which was in deep country. There was a large garden and a paddock to one side with a lone horse. The house was whitewashed. There was a jeep and a smaller car parked in front. There were still lights on in several of the downstairs windows.
Wallander turned off his engine and got out. The porch light came on and a man walked out of the house. Wallander had been right. They had met before somewhere. He walked over and greeted the man. He was around sixty, thin and slightly bowed. His hands didn't feel like a farmer's.
"I recognise you," Modin said. "Your father lived not too far from here."
"I know we've met before," Wallander said. "But I can't remember the context."
"Your father was out walking in one of the fields around here," Modin said. "He was carrying a suitcase."
Wallander remembered that time. His father had had one of his episodes of confusion and had decided to go to Italy. He packed his suitcase and started walking. Modin had seen him tramping through the mud and had called the police.
"I haven't seen you since he passed away," Modin said. "The house is sold of course."
"Gertrud moved to be close to her sister in Svarte. I don't even know who ended up buying the place."
"It's someone from up north who claims to be a businessman," Modin said. "I suspect he's actually a booze smuggler."
Wallander had an image of his father's studio converted into a still.
"I suppose you've come on account of Robert," Modin said. "I thought he had paid for his sins?"
"I'm sure he has," Wallander said. "Though you're right that I'm here to see him."
"What's he done now?"
Wallander heard the dread in the father's voice.
"Nothing, nothing. In fact, it seems he may be able to help us with something."
Modin looked surprised, but also relieved. He nodded at the door and Wallander followed him inside.
"The wife's sleeping," Modin said. "She wears earplugs."
Wallander remembered that Modin was a surveyor. He didn't know how he knew this.
"Is Robert here?"
"He's at a party with some friends. But he has his phone with him."
Modin showed him into the living room.
Wallander was startled to see one of his father's paintings hanging above the sofa. It was the landscape motif without the woodgrouse.
"He gave it to me," Modin said. "Whenever it snowed heavily I would go over and shovel his driveway for him. Sometimes I stayed and we talked. He was an unusual man, in his own way."
"That's an understatement," Wallander said.
"I liked him. There aren't too many of his kind any more."
"He wasn't always easy to deal with," Wallander said. "But I miss him. And it's true, old men like him are getting more rare. One day there won't be any left."
"Who is easy to deal with anyway?" Modin said. "Are you? I don't think I could say that about myself. Just ask my wife."
Wallander sat down on the sofa. Modin was cleaning out his pipe.
"Robert is a good boy," he said. "I thought he was treated harshly, even if it was only a month. It was all just a game to him."
"I don't know the whole story," Wallander said, "other than that he broke into the Pentagon's computer network."
"He's very good with computers," Modin said. "He bought his first one when he was 9 years old, with money he had saved up picking strawberries. Then he was engulfed by it. But as long as he continued to do all right in school, it was fine with me. Of course my wife was against it from the start, and now she feels justified by what happened."
Wallander had the feeling that Modin was a somewhat lonely person, but however much