'You'll do as I say,' Bjork said.
Wallander didn't bother to argue. He knew what he was going to do anyway.
They divided the work between them. Martinsson and Hoglund would go to the solicitors' offices and begin sifting through the Gustaf Torstensson files. Svedberg would do a thorough search into the cars that had been following them to Helsingborg. Wallander would concentrate on Borman.
'For some days now I have had the feeling that it's all very urgent,' he said. 'I don't know why. But let's get a move on.'
The meeting broke up and they went their different ways. Wallander could sense the resolve in everybody's attitude, and he noted that Hoglund was coping well with her exhaustion.
He fetched another cup of coffee and went back to his office to work out what to do next. Nyberg stuck his head round the door and announced that he was about to set off for the burned-out car at Svedala.
'I take it you want me to see if there's any similarity to the explosion in Mrs Duner's garden,' he said.
'Yes,' Wallander said.
'I don't expect to be able to establish that,' Nyberg said, 'but I'll have a go.'
Nyberg went on his way and Wallander called reception.
'It's awful, these terrible things happening,' Ebba said.
'Nobody was hurt,' Wallander said. 'That's the main thing.' He came straight to the point.
'Can you get hold of a car for me, please? I have to go to Malmo in a few minutes. Then I'd like you to phone Farnholm Castle and get them to send me a copy of their overview of Alfred Harderberg's business empire. I did have a file but it got burned up in the car.'
'I'd better not tell them that,' Ebba said.
'Maybe not. But I need that file as quickly as they can manage it.'
He hung up. Then a thought struck him. He went down the corridor to Svedberg's office, and found him just starting to go through Martinsson's notes about the cars from the previous night.
'Kurt Strom,' he said. 'Does that name mean anything to you?'
Svedberg thought for a moment. 'A police officer in Malmo? Or am I wrong?'
'That's right,' Wallander said. 'I'd like you to do something for me when you've finished with the cars. Strom left the force many years ago. There was a rumour that he resigned before he was sacked. Try and find out what happened. Be discreet.'
Svedberg made a note of the name. 'Might I ask why? Has it anything to do with the solicitors? The car that got blown up? The mine in the garden?'
'Everything has to do with that,' Wallander said. 'Strom is working now as top security guard at Farnholm Castle. Gustaf Torstensson had been there the night he died.'
'I'll look into it,' Svedberg said.
Wallander went back to his office and sat down at his desk. He was very tired. He didn't even have the strength to think about how close he and Hoglund had been to getting killed. Later, he thought. Not now. Borman dead is more important just now than Wallander alive.
He looked up the Malmohus County Offices in the phone book. He knew from past experience that it was located in Lund. He dialled the number and got a reply immediately. He asked the operator to put him through to one of the bosses in the finance department.
'They're not available today,' the operator said.
'There must be somebody available, surely?'
'They're in a budget meeting all day,' the girl explained patiently.
'Where?'
'At the conference centre in Hoor,' the girl said. 'But there's no point in phoning there.'
'What's the name of the man in charge of auditing? Is he there as well?'
'His name's Thomas Rundstedt,' the girl said. 'Yes, he's in Hoor too. Perhaps you could try again tomorrow?'
'Many thanks for your help,' Wallander said, and hung up.
He had no intention of waiting until the next day. He fetched yet another cup of coffee and thought through all he knew about Lars Borman. He was interrupted by Ebba who called to say there was a car waiting for him outside the police station.
It was 9.15. A clear autumn day, blue skies, and Wallander noted that the wind had died down. He found himself looking forward to his drive.
It was just turning 10.00 when he drove up to the conference centre near Hoor. He parked the car and went to reception. A notice on a blackboard and easel informed him that the big conference hall was occupied by the County Offices Budget Conference. A red-haired man behind the desk gave Wallander a friendly smile.
'I'm trying to get hold of some people taking part in the budget conference,' he said.
'They've just had their coffee break,' the receptionist replied. 'They'll be in session now right through until lunch at 12.30. I'm afraid it's not possible to disturb them before then.'
Wallander produced his police ID. 'I'm afraid it's sometimes necessary to disturb people,' he said. 'I'll write a note for you to take in.'
He pulled over a notepad and started writing.
'Has something happened?' the receptionist said, sounding worried.
'Nothing too serious. But it can't wait, I'm afraid.' He tore off the page. 'It's for a man called Thomas Rundstedt, the chief auditor,' he said. 'I'll wait here.'
The receptionist went out. Wallander yawned. He felt hungry. He could see a dining room through a half-open door. He went to investigate. There was a plate of cheese sandwiches standing on a table. He took one and ate it. Then another. Then he went back to the sofa in reception.
It was another five minutes before the receptionist reappeared. He was accompanied by a man Wallander assumed was the person he was looking for, Mr Rundstedt.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered. It occurred to Wallander that he had always thought accountants were short and thin. The man facing him could have been a boxer. He was also bald, and eyed Wallander up and down suspiciously.
'My name's Kurt Wallander and I'm a detective inspector with the Ystad police,' he said, reaching out his hand. 'I take it you're Thomas Rundstedt and Auditor-in-Chief at the Malmohus County Offices.'
The man nodded abruptly. 'What's this all about?' he said. 'We specifically asked not to be disturbed. The financial affairs of the County Offices are not to be trifled with. Especially just now.'
'I'm sure they're not,' Wallander said. 'I won't keep you long. Does the name Lars Borman mean anything to you?'
Rundstedt raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'That was before my time,' he said. 'Borman was an accountant at the County Offices, but he's dead. I've only been working there for six months.'
Shit, Wallander thought. I've come here for nothing.
'Was there anything else?' Rundstedt said.
'Who did you replace?' Wallander asked.
'Martin Oscarsson,' Rundstedt said. 'He retired.'
'And he was Lars Borman's boss?'
'Yes.'
'Where can I get hold of him?'
'He lives in Limhamn. On the Sound. In Mollevagen. I can't remember the number. I assume he'll be in the phone book.'
'That's all, thank you very much,' Wallander said. 'I apologise for disturbing you. Do you know how Borman died, by the way?'
'They say it was suicide,' Rundstedt said.
'Good luck with the budget,' Wallander said. 'Will you be putting the council tax up?'
'Who knows?' Rundstedt said, and went back to his meeting.
Wallander waved a salute to the receptionist and went back to his car. He phoned Directory Enquiries and wrote down Martin Oscarsson's address, Mollevagen 32.
He was there before noon.
