The Man Who Smiled (36 page)

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Authors: Henning Mankell

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Mystery, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction - Mystery, #Detective, #Police Procedural, #Mystery & Detective - Police Procedural

BOOK: The Man Who Smiled
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Wallander had changed his tone. He was looking for a confrontation. He knew that toughness was the only thing Ström had any respect for.

"I don't suppose you've come here to discuss my family." Wallander smiled at him. "Quite right" he said. "I haven't. I only reminded you that we used to be colleagues out of politeness."

Ström had turned ashen. For a brief moment Wallander thought he had gone too far, and that Ström would take a swing at him.

"Let's forget it," Wallander said. "Let's talk about something else. October 11. A Monday evening. Six weeks ago. You know the evening I mean?"

Ström nodded, but said nothing.

"I really only have one question," Wallander said. "But let's get an important thing out of the way first. I'm not going to let you get away with not answering on the grounds that you'd be breaking the security rules of Farnholm Castle. If you try that, I'll make life so hellish for you, you'll wonder what hit you."

"You can't do anything to me," Ström said.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Wallander said. "I could arrest you and take you to Ystad with me, or I could phone the castle ten times a day and ask to speak to Kurt Ström. They would soon get the feeling that the police were far too interested in their head of security. I wonder if they know about your past? That could be embarrassing for them. I doubt if Dr Harderberg would be pleased if the peace and quiet of Farnholm Castle were to be disturbed."

"Go to hell!" Ström said. "Get to the other side of that gate before I throw you out."

"I only want the answer to one question, about the night of October 11," Wallander said, unconcerned. "And I can assure you it won't go any further. Is it really worth risking the new life you lead? As I recall, when we met at the castle gates you said you were very happy with it."

Wallander could see that Ström was wavering. His eyes were still full of hatred, but Wallander knew he would get an answer.

"One question," he said. "One answer. But a truthful one. Then I'll be off. You can get on with your repairs and forget I was ever here. And you can carry on guarding the gates of Farnholm Castle till the day you die. Just one question and one answer."

An aeroplane flew past high above their heads. Wallander wondered if it was Alfred Harderberg's Gulfstream on its way back from New York already.

"What do you want to know?"

"That evening of October 11 Wallander said. "Gustaf Torstensson left the castle at 8.14 p.m. according to the printout of the gate checks I've seen. That could be forged, of course, but let's assume it's correct. We do know he did leave Farnholm Castle, after all. My question to you, Kurt Ström, is very simple. Did a car leave Farnholm Castle after Mr Torstensson arrived but before he left?"

Ström said nothing, but then he nodded slowly.

"That was the first part of the question," Wallander said. "Now comes the second part of the same question. Who was it who left the castle?"

"I don't know."

"But you saw a car?"

"I've already answered more than one question." "Stop this shit, Ström. It's the same question. What make of car was it? And who was in it?"

"It was one of the cars that belong to the castle. A BMW." "Who was in it?" "I don't know."

"Your life will turn extremely unpleasant if you don't answer!"

Wallander discovered that he did not need to pretend to be furious. He was already furious.

"I honestly don't know who was in the car."

Wallander could see that Ström was telling the truth. He ought to have realised.

"Because the windows were fitted with dark glass," Wallander said. "So you can't see who's inside. Is that right?"

Ström nodded. "You've got your answer," he said. "Now get the hell out of here."

"Always a pleasure to bump into former colleagues," Wallander said. "And you're quite right, it is time I was off. Nice to talk to you."

The dogs started barking as soon as he turned his back. As he drove off Ström was still standing in the doorway, watching him go. Wallander could feel the sweat inside his shirt. He remembered that Ström could be violent.

But he had got a plausible answer to a question that had been troubling him. The starting point for what happened that October night when Gustaf Torstensson died, alone in his car. He had a good idea now how it had occurred. While Torstensson sat back in one of the sumptuous leather armchairs chatting to Harderberg and the Italian bankers, a car had left Farnholm Castle to lie in wait for the old man as he drove home. Somehow or other, by a display of force or cunning or convincing friendliness, they had got him to stop his car on that remote, carefully chosen stretch of road. Wallander had no idea if the decision to prevent Torstensson reaching home had been made that same night, or earlier; but at least he could now see the makings of an explanation.

He thought about the men lurking in the shadows in the entrance hall. Then he shuddered as he thought about what had happened the previous night.

Without realising it, he pressed harder on the accelerator. By the time he came to Sandskogen he was going so fast that if he had been stopped he would have had his licence suspended on the spot. He slowed down. When he reached Ystad he called at Fridolf's Cafe and had a cup of coffee. He knew what advice Rydberg would have given him.

Patience, he would have said. When stones start rolling down a slope, it's important not to start running after them right away. Stay where you are and watch them rolling, see where they come to a stop. That's what he would have said.

And he would have been right, Wallander thought. That's how we're going to proceed.

In the days to come Wallander had evidence once more of how he was surrounded by colleagues who did not stint on effort when it was really needed. They had already been working intensively, but nobody protested when Wallander announced that they were going to have to work even harder. It had started that Wednesday afternoon when Wallander called the team to the conference room, and Åkeson
attended despite his diarrhoea and high temperature. They all agreed that Harderberg's business empire should be unravelled and mapped out with the greatest possible speed. While the meeting was in progress Åkeson
phoned the fraud squads in Malmö and Stockholm. The others present listened in admiration as he described how the need for them to work harder and give the job the highest priority was more or less essential if the country were to survive. When he hung up, the meeting burst into spontaneous applause.

On Åkeson's advice they had decided that they themselves would continue to concentrate on Avanca without worrying about running into conflict with the work being carried out by the fraud squads. Wallander also established that Höglund was the best qualified officer for this task. Nobody objected, and from that moment on she was no longer a raw recruit but a fully fledged member of the investigative team. Svedberg took over some of the work she had been doing before, including the efforts to obtain the flight plans of Harderberg's aircraft. There was some discussion between Wallander and Åkeson as to whether this was a sufficiently valuable source of information to warrant the effort. Wallander argued that sooner or later they would have to establish Harderberg's movements, not least on the day Sten Torstensson died. Åkeson maintained that if it really did now seem likely that Harderberg was behind what had happened, he would have access to state-of-the-art resources and could be in contact with Farnholm Castle even if he were crossing the Atlantic in his Gulfstream, or in the Australian outback, where the financial experts claimed he had substantial mining interests. Wallander could see Åkeson's point and was just about to cave in when Åkeson threw up his hands and said he had only been putting a personal point of view and did not want any obstacles in the way of work that was ongoing.

When it came to the recruitment of the stablegirl Sofia, Wallander made a presentation that Höglund went out of her way to congratulate him on in private afterwards. Wallander knew that not only might Björk and Åkeson protest, but that Martinsson and Svedberg might object to involving a complete outsider in the investigation. Without actually lying, although perhaps he was economical with the truth, Wallander explained that by chance they had acquired a source of information at Farnholm Castle, somebody Wallander happened to know, who was looking after the horses there. He provided this information more or less in passing, just as a tray of sandwiches had been delivered and nobody was listening with more than half an ear to what he was saying. He exchanged glances with Höglund, and could tell that she had seen through his tactic.

Afterwards, when they had finished the sandwiches and aired the room, Wallander described how his flat had been watched the previous night. He did not mention, however, that the man in the car had actually been inside his flat. He was afraid that information would lead Björk to apply the brakes and put restrictions on what they could or could not do for security reasons. Svedberg was able to supply the astonishing news that the car was registered to a person who lived in Östersund and was the manager of a holiday camp in the Jamtland mountains. Wallander insisted that the man be investigated, the holiday camp as well. If Harderberg had interests in Australian mines there was no reason why he should not also be involved in a winter sports establishment in the north of Sweden. The meeting ended with Wallander telling them about his meeting with Ström. On hearing his account the room fell silent.

"That was the detail we needed," Wallander said afterwards to Höglund. "Police officers are practical people. The little fact that a car left Farnholm Castle before old man Torstensson began his final journey means that all the vague and obscure aspects of the sequence of events now have a little detail to rest on at last. If that is what happened, and it could very well have been, we've also got confirmation of the fact that Torstensson was murdered in a cold-blooded and well-planned operation. That means we know we're looking for a solution to something where nothing is coincidental. We can forget accidents and dramatic passions. We know now where we don't need to look."

The meeting had ended in a mood Wallander interpreted as resolute determination. That was what he had been hoping for. Before Åkeson went home to bed he had joined in a discussion with Björk and Wallander. They talked about the press conference the following day. Wallander had urged that, without actually telling lies, they could maintain that they had a lead to follow, but that they could not yet give any details for reasons associated with the investigation.

"But," Åkeson wondered, "how are you going to describe the lead without Harderberg realising that it points to Farnholm Castle?" "A tragedy arising from somebody's private life," Wallander said. "That doesn't sound particularly credible," Åkeson objected. "It's also a suspiciously thin basis on which to call a press conference. Make sure you're fully prepared. You need to have detailed and definite answers to every likely question."

Wallander drove home after the meeting.

He examined his telephone to see if there was any sign of a bug. He found nothing, but nevertheless decided that from now on he would not discuss anything to do with Harderberg on the phone from home.

Then he had a shower and got changed.

He had supper at the pizzeria in Hamngatan. Then he spent the rest of the evening preparing for the press conference. Now and then he went to the kitchen window and looked down into the street, but there was only his own car parked outside.

The press conference went more smoothly than Wallander had expected. The murder of the two solicitors was apparently not considered by the media to be of great public interest, and so there were not many newspapers represented, no television, and the local radio station only ran a short item.

"That ought to keep Harderberg calm," Wallander said to Björk when the reporters had left the police station.

"Unless he can read our minds," Björk said.

"He can speculate, of course," Wallander said, "but he can't be completely sure."

When he got back to his office he found a message on his desk to phone Mr S. Widén. He dialled the number and after it had been ringing for a very long time, Widén answered.

"You rang" Wallander said.

"Hi there, Roger," Widén said. "Our friend called me a few minutes ago. She was in Simrishamn. She had something to say that I think might be of interest to you."

"What's that?"

"That her post is evidently going to be short-lived." "What does she mean by that?"

"It looks as if her employer is preparing to leave his castle."

Wallander was struck dumb. "Are you still there?" Widén said, eventually. "Yes " Wallander said. "I'm still here." "That was all" Widén said.

CHAPTER
15

By the time Ove Hanson returned to work in Ystad on the afternoon of November 25, he had been away for over a month. He had been in Halmstad attending a course on computerised crime-solving arranged by the National Police Board. After Sten Torstensson's murder he had contacted Björk and asked if he should abandon the course and return to duty in Ystad, but Björk had told him to stay on. That was when he first heard Wallander had come back to work. The same evening he had telephoned Martinsson from his hotel to check whether it could really be true. Martinsson had confirmed it, and added that personally he thought that Wallander seemed more energetic than ever.

Even so, Hanson had not been prepared for what was in store for him when he returned and paused outside the office he had been using while Wallander had been away. He tapped on the door and went straight in without waiting to be asked, but almost jumped out of his skin at what he saw, and made to leave again immediately. Wallander was standing in the middle of the room holding a chair over his head, and staring at Hanson with a look on his face that could only be described as lunatic. It all happened very quickly and Wallander put the chair down, his expression returning to normal. But the image had burned itself into Hanson's memory. For a long time afterwards Hanson kept it to himself, and he wondered when Wallander would finally break down and go mad.

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