Firewall - By Henning Mankell & Ebba Segerberg Page 0,94

time. "He slowed down the first time."

This comment clearly irritated Elofsson.

"But he never stopped?"

"No."

"Did he see you?"

"Not the first time. But possibly on his second time around."

"What happened after that?"

"He came back the third time after about 20 minutes, but didn't slow down."

"He may just have been checking that you were still here. Could you see if there was more than one person in the car?"

"We talked about that. We think it was just one person."

"Did you tell your colleagues at Runnerstr枚ms Torg?"

"They haven't seen it."

Wallander found that puzzling. If someone was keeping a check on Falk's flat, he would also be interested in his office. He thought about it. The only explanation he could think of was that whoever the person in the car was he didn't know of the existence of the office. Unless the officers on duty there had been sleeping. Wallander didn't want to rule out that possibility at this point.

Elofsson turned and passed Wallander a note with the registration number written on it.

"I take it you've had this number checked out?"

"We tried, but the computer system was down."

Wallander held the note up so that he could read it with the help of the street light. MLR 331. He memorised the number.

"When did they think they'd be back up and running?"

"They couldn't be sure. Maybe by tomorrow morning."

Wallander shook his head. "We need this as soon as humanly possible. When does your shift end?"

"At 6 a.m."

"Before you go home I want you to write up a report on this and give it to Hansson or Martinsson. They'll take care of it."

"What do we do if he comes back?"

"He won't," Wallander said. "Not as long as he knows you're here."

"Should we get involved in any way, if he does come back?"

"No. He hasn't committed a crime, so far as we know. But call me. Use my mobile number."

He wished them luck, then walked back to T枚rgen Krabbes V盲g. He drove down to Runnerstr枚ms Torg. Only one of the officers was asleep. They hadn't been aware of any navy blue Mazdas.

"Keep a close watch," Wallander said, and gave them the registration number.

As he was walking back to his car, he remembered that he still had Setterkvist's keys. He entered the building and walked to the top floor. Before unlocking the door he pressed his ear to it and listened. He walked in and turned on the light, looking around the room in the same way as he had the first time he was there. Was there anything he hadn't noticed that time? Something that he and Nyberg could have overlooked? He found nothing. He sat at the computer and stared at the dark screen.

Modin had talked about the number 20. Wallander had sensed intuitively that the boy was on to something. In the stream of numbers that were a nonsensical jumble to him, and perhaps even to Martinsson, Modin had been able to see a pattern. The only thing Wallander could think of was that October 20 was approaching, and that the number 20 was the first part of the year 2000. But what did it mean? And did whatever it meant have anything to do with the investigation?

Suddenly the phone rang.

Wallander jumped. The sound rang out eerily in the empty room. He stared at the black phone and on the seventh ring he finally lifted the receiver.

He heard static as if it were a long-distance call and he strained to hear something on the other end. Someone was there. Wallander said hello once, then a second time. All he heard was the sound of breathing somewhere inside the buzz of static. Then there was a click and the connection was lost. Wallander hung up. His heart was racing. He had heard that sound before, when he had listened to Falk's messages.

There was someone there, he thought. Someone calling to talk to Falk. But Falk is gone. He's dead.

He thought of another possibility. Someone could be calling to talk to him. Someone who had seen him enter the building and walk up to Falk's flat?

He remembered how he had stopped and turned on the pavement earlier in the evening. As if he was expecting there to be someone behind him, watching him.

His anxiety flared up. Until now he had been able to repress the memory that only a few days ago someone had tried to kill him. H枚glund's words came back to him: he should take care.

He got up from the chair and walked to the door. He