Firewall (42 page)

At the heart of his thinking on these changes was his heightened sense of personal vulnerability. He knew he was in danger of being mown down by Martinsson. He also felt harassed by the constantly changing conditions of the workplace and the new demands being made on them all. In the future, society would need a new kind of policeman. Not that his kind of experience and knowledge were no longer valuable, but now there were whole domains of knowledge he simply didn't have. He was forced to accept that he had, quite simply, become old. An old dog who could no longer be taught new tricks.

During those long nights in his flat he often thought he no longer had the energy for police work. But he also knew that he had no choice but to go on, for at least another ten years. There were really no alternatives. He was an investigative police officer, a homicide detective. Travelling around to schools and lecturing on the dangers of drugs or drunken driving was not an option for him. That would never be his world.

The meeting finally ended and the dossier was handed over to the prosecutor's office. No-one could be charged since all the suspects were dead. But the prosecutor had a report on his desk that could well lead to an indictment of Carl-Einar Lundberg.

It was after the meeting was over that Höglund came to his office to tell him that Persson and her mother had recanted. Naturally Wallander was relieved, but he was not particularly surprised. Although he had his doubts about the ability of Swedish justice to prevail, he had always expected the truth in this particular case to come out in the end.

They sat and talked for a while about the possibility that he could now counter the accusations. Höglund urged him to take up the issue of his mistreatment for the sake of the whole force, but Wallander was reluctant. He thought the best thing would be for the affair to be buried in silence.

Once Höglund had left, Wallander sat staring into space for a long time. His head was empty. Finally, he got up to get a cup of coffee.

At the door to the canteen he bumped into Martinsson. In the past few weeks Wallander had felt a strange and for him unfamiliar ambivalence. Normally he did not shy away from conflicts, but what had happened between him and Martinsson was more difficult and went deeper. There were elements of lost friendship, betrayal, camaraderie. When he bumped into Martinsson in the canteen he knew the moment had come. He could put it off no longer.

"We should talk," he said. "Do you have a minute?"

"I've been waiting for you."

They went back to the conference room where they had spent the whole morning. Wallander got straight to the point.

"I know you've been going behind my back. I know you've been spreading lies about me. You have questioned my ability to lead this investigation. Why you have done all this covertly instead of coming to me directly only you know. The only excuse I can think of for your behaviour is that you are laying the groundwork for your future career, and that you are willing to do anything to get where you want to go."

Martinsson was calm. Wallander thought that his words seemed well rehearsed. "I can only tell you how it is. You have lost your grip and the only thing I'm guilty of is that I didn't say this earlier."

"Why didn't you tell me to my face?"

"I tried to, but you don't listen."

"I do listen."

"You think you do, but that's not the same thing as really listening."

"Why did you tell Holgersson that I had ordered you not to follow me into the field that time?"

"She must have misunderstood what I said."

Wallander looked at Martinsson. The urge to punch him in the face was still there, but he knew he wouldn't do anything of the sort. He didn't have the energy. He was not going to be able to shake Martinsson. The man seemed to believe his own lies. At the very least he would not be able to get him to change his official line.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"No," Wallander said. "I have nothing else to say."

Martinsson got up and left. Wallander felt as if the walls had come tumbling down around him. Martinsson had made his choice and their friendship was gone, broken off. Wallander wondered with growing despondency if it had ever really been there in the first place. Or had Martinsson always been waiting for his opportunity to strike?

Waves of grief washed over him. And then there came a wave of rage. He was not going to give up. For the next few years at least he would remain in charge of the most complicated investigations in Ystad. But the feeling of having lost something was stronger than his rage. He asked himself again how he would have the energy to carry on.

Wallander left the station directly after his conversation with Martinsson. He left his mobile in his office and didn't tell Irene anything about where he was going or when he would be back. He got into his car and took the road to Malmö. As he was approaching the exit for Stjärnsund he decided to take it. He didn't know why. Perhaps the thought of two broken friendships was too much to bear.

Wallander's thoughts often returned to Elvira. She had entered his life under false pretences and in the final analysis he suspected she would even have been prepared to kill him. But he could not stop himself from thinking about her the way he himself had actually experienced her. A woman at a dinner table who had listened to what he had to say. A woman with beautiful legs who had dispelled his loneliness for a brief time.

When he turned into Sten Widén's ranch it looked abandoned. Widén had put up a "For Sale" sign some time ago, but now there was on top of it a "Sold" sign. The house was empty. Wallander walked to the stables. The horses had gone. A lone cat sat in a pile of hay and looked at him suspiciously.

Wallander found it upsetting. Sten Widén had left already and he had not even bothered to say goodbye.

Wallander drove away from the stables as fast as he could.

The following day, he did not go into the office. He drove in circles on the small roads around Ystad all afternoon. From time to time he got out and stared over the barren fields. At dusk he started driving back. He stopped at the grocer's on the way back and paid his bill. That evening he listened to the whole score of Verdi's
La Traviata
twice in a row. He also spoke to Gertrud over the phone and they arranged that he would stop by in the morning.

The phone rang shortly before midnight. Wallander jumped. Oh God, not again, he thought. Don't let anything have happened. Not now, not yet. None of us can handle it.

It was Baiba calling from Riga. It had been about a year since they had spoken last. "I just wanted to see how you were doing," she said.

"I'm fine. How about you?"

"Fine."

The silence bounced from Ystad to Riga and back again.

"Do you ever think about me?" he asked.

"Of course. Why would I have called otherwise?"

"I was just wondering."

"And you?"

"I think about you all the time."

Wallander knew she would see through him. He was lying, or at least exaggerating. He didn't know why exactly. Baiba was something that was over, that was fading. But he could not altogether let go of the thought of her, or of the memories of their time together.

They talked for a while on other topics, then the conversation ended. Wallander put the phone down slowly. Did he miss her? He didn't know. It was as if firewalls were not a phenomenon relegated to the world of computers. He had a firewall himself, and he didn't always know how to get past it.

The next day, Thursday, November 13, the gusty winds had died down. Wallander woke early even though he had the day off. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a day off in the middle of the week. He had decided to use some of his flexitime since Linda was coming to visit. He was to meet her plane at 1 p.m. at Sturup. He was going to use the morning to trade in his car and to visit Gertrud.

At 8 a.m. he got up, made his coffee and read the paper. He cleaned the flat, changed the sheets in Linda's old room and put the vacuum cleaner away. The sun was shining and that cheered him up. He drove to the car showroom on Industrigatan. He settled for another Peugeot, a 306 this time, 1996 registration. It had few miles on it and Tyrén, the dealer, gave him a good price on his old car. He was finished by 10.30 a.m. It gave him a good feeling to get a new car, as if he had scrubbed himself clean.

He drove to the house in Svarte where Gertrud lived with her sister. He had a cup of coffee and listened somewhat absent-mindedly to their chatter.

He left their house at 11.45 a.m. When he got to Sturup there was still half an hour to wait. As usual, he felt nervous about seeing Linda. Was it always the case that parents eventually became afraid of their own children? He had no answer. He had another cup of coffee in the airport café. He noticed Höglund's ex-husband sitting a few tables away. Wallander assumed he was leaving on another business trip. A woman that Wallander hadn't seen before was with him. Wallander felt hurt for Ann-Britt. Wallander moved to another table and sat with his back to the man so as not to be recognised. He wondered why he was reacting so strongly.

The plane landed on time. Linda was one of the last to get off. When they saw each other, Wallander's nervousness disappeared. She was just as open and cheerful as before. Her easygoing nature was the opposite of his own. She was also not as outrageously dressed as she had been on some previous occasions. They collected her case from the baggage claim and Wallander walked her to the new car. He wasn't sure that she would have noticed the difference if he hadn't said anything.

They drove towards Ystad.

"How are things?" he said. "What are you doing these days? You've been a bit secretive this past while."

"It's such a nice day," she said. "Can we drive down to the beach?"

"I asked you a question."

"You'll get an answer."

"When?"

"Not just yet."

Wallander took the next exit and drove down to Mossbystrand. The car park was empty, the burger bar closed for the year. She opened her case and took out a thick sweater, then they walked to the shoreline.

"I remember coming here when I was little," she said. "It's one of my earliest memories."

"Often it was just you and me. When Mona needed time to herself."

There was a ship on the horizon. The sea was very calm.

"What about that picture in the paper?" she said, suddenly.

Wallander felt his stomach tighten. "It's over now," he said. "The girl and her mother recanted. It's over."

"I saw another picture," she said. "In a magazine. Something happened outside a church in Malmö. It said you threatened a photographer."

Wallander thought back to Stefan Fredman's funeral and the film he had taken from the man's camera. The photographer must have had an extra roll. He told her what had happened.

"I hope I would have done the same thing," she said.

"Luckily you're not going to find yourself in these situations," Wallander said. "You're not a police officer."

"Not yet."

Wallander stopped short and looked at her. "What did you say?"

She kept walking and didn't answer immediately. Some seagulls flew overhead, screeching.

"You think I've been secretive," she said. "And you want to know what I've been up to. I didn't want to tell you about it until I had made up my mind."

"Do you mean what you just said?"

"Yes, I want to be a police officer. I've already applied to Police Training College, and I think I'm going to get in."

Wallander still couldn't believe it. "Is this true?"

"Yes."

"But you've never talked about it before."

"I've been thinking about it for a long time."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want to."

"But I thought you were going to go into the antique business and restore old furniture?"

"For a while I thought so too, but now I know what I really want to do. And that's why I came down here, to tell you. Ask you what you think. Get your blessing."

They started walking again.

"This comes right out of the blue," Wallander said.

"You told me about what it was like when you told Grandad that you were going to be a policeman. If I remember correctly his answer came pretty quickly."

"He said no before I had finished talking."

"And what do you say?"

"Give me a minute and I'll let you know."

She went and sat down on a tree trunk half buried in the sand. Wallander walked down to the water. He had never imagined that Linda would want to follow in his footsteps, and it was hard for him to come to terms with what he had heard.