Sidetracked - By Henning Mankell & Steven T. Murray Page 0,162

said. “Otherwise they would have stayed in the basement room.”

“Smart animals dig extra exits,” Ludwigsson said thoughtfully.

“You mean that he might have a second hideout in reserve?”

“Maybe. In all likelihood it’s also in Malmö.”

The discussion petered out. Hamrén yawned. A phone rang down the hall and someone appeared in the doorway, saying that there was a call for Wallander. He got up, much too tired to ask who it was. It didn’t occur to him that it might be Baiba, not until he had picked up the phone in his own office. By then it was too late. But it wasn’t Baiba. It was a man who spoke with a broad Skåne accent.

“Who is this?” Wallander asked.

“Hans Logård.”

Wallander almost dropped the receiver. “I need to meet with you. Now.”

Logård’s voice was strained, as if he was having a lot of trouble forming his words. Wallander wondered whether he was on drugs.

“Where are you?”

“First I want a guarantee that you’ll come. And that you’ll come alone.”

“You won’t get it. You nearly killed me and Sjösten.”

“God damn it! You have to come!”

The last words sounded almost like a shriek. Wallander grew cautious. “What do you want?”

“I can tell you where Stefan Fredman is. And his sister.”

“How can I be sure of that?”

“You can’t. But you should believe me.”

“I’ll come. You tell me what you know. And then we’ll bring you in.”

“All right.”

“Where are you?”

“Are you coming?”

“Yes.”

“Wetterstedt’s villa.”

A feeling that he should have thought of that possibility raced through Wallander’s mind.

“Do you have a gun?” he asked.

“The car is in the garage. The revolver is in the glove compartment. I’ll leave the door to the house open. You’ll see me when you come in the door. I’ll keep my hands in sight.”

“All right, I’m coming.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone.”

Wallander hung up, thinking feverishly. He had no intention of going alone. But he didn’t want Hansson to start organising a major strike force. Ann-Britt and Svedberg, he thought. But Svedberg was at home. He called him and told him to meet him outside the hospital in five minutes. With his service revolver. Did he have it? He did. Wallander told him briefly that they were going to arrest Logård. When Svedberg tried to ask questions, Wallander cut him off. Five minutes, he said, outside the hospital. Until then, don’t use the phone.

He unlocked a desk drawer and took out his revolver. He detested even holding it. He loaded it and tucked it in his jacket pocket, then went to the conference room and waved Höglund outside. He took her into his office and explained. They would meet in the car park right away. Wallander told her to bring her service revolver. They would take Wallander’s car. He told Hansson he was going home to shower. Hansson yawned and waved him goodbye. Svedberg was outside the hospital. He got into the back seat.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Wallander told them about the phone call. If the revolver wasn’t in the car they’d call it off. Same thing if the door wasn’t open. Or if Wallander suspected something was wrong. The two of them were supposed to stay out of sight but ready.

“He might have another gun,” Svedberg said. “He might try to take you hostage. I don’t like this. How could he know where Stefan Fredman is? What does he want?”

“Maybe he’s stupid enough to try and make a deal with us. People think Sweden is just like the United States.”

Wallander thought about Logård’s voice. Something told him he really did know where the boy was.

They parked the car out of sight of the house. Svedberg was to watch the beach side. When he got there he was alone, except for a girl sitting on the boat under which they’d found Wetterstedt’s dead body. She seemed to be completely entranced by the sea and the black rain cloud bearing down on the land. Höglund took up a position outside the garage. Wallander saw that the front door was open. He moved slowly. The car was in the garage. The revolver was in the glove compartment. He took out his own gun, put the safety catch off, and advanced cautiously to the door. Everything was still.

He stepped up to the door. Hans Logård stood in dark hall. He had his hands on his head. Wallander sensed danger. But he went inside. Logård looked at him. Then everything happened very fast. One of Logård’s hands slipped down and Wallander saw a gaping wound in his head. Logård’s body fell to the