with the Swedish police force. But, unfortunately, that can be a disadvantage in other circumstances.'
'What do you want on this piece of paper?'
'A positive reference,' Strom said. 'On police headed paper. Signed by Bjork.'
'That's not on,' Wallander said. 'It would obviously be a fake. You've never worked in Ystad. A check with National Headquarters and anyone could discover that you'd been kicked out of the force.'
'You can perfectly well fix a reference, if you want to,' Strom said. 'I can deal with whatever they have in the National Police Archives myself, one way or another.'
'How?'
'That's my problem. I don't want you to help in any way.'
'How do you think I'm going to get Bjork to sign a cooked-up reference?'
'That's your problem. It could never be traced to you anyway. The world is full of forged documents.'
'In that case you can fix it with no input from me. Bjork's signature could be forged.'
'Of course it could,' Strom said. 'But the certificate would have to be a part of the system. In the computer database. That's where you come in.'
Wallander knew Strom was right. He had once forged a passport himself. But still he found the idea objectionable.
'Let's say that I'll think about it,' Wallander said. 'Let me ask you a few more questions. We can regard your answers as sample goods. When I've heard what they are I can tell you whether I'll go along with you or not.'
'I'm the one who'll decide whether enough questions have been asked,' Strom said. 'And we're going to sort this out here and now. Before you leave.'
'I'll go along with that.'
Strom lit another cigarette, then faced up to Wallander.
'Why is Harderberg doing a runner?'
'I don't know.'
'Where's he going?'
'I don't know that either. Probably overseas.'
'What makes you think that?'
'There've been quite a few visits recently from estate agents from abroad.'
'What do you mean, foreign?'
'South America. Ukraine. Burma.'
'Is the castle up for sale?'
'Harderberg generally hangs on to his properties. He won't be selling. Just because he's not living at Farnholm Castle doesn't mean that anybody else will be. He'll put it in mothballs.'
'When's he going to move?'
'He could leave tomorrow. Nobody knows. But I reckon it will be pretty soon. Probably before Christmas.'
Wallander had so many questions to ask, far too many. He couldn't make up his mind which ones were most important.
'The men in the shadows,' he said eventually. 'Who are they?'
Strom nodded in acknowledgment. 'That's a pretty good way of describing them,' he said.
'I saw two men in the entrance hall,' Wallander said. 'The night I visited Harderberg. But I also saw them the first time I went to the castle, and talked to Anita Karlen. Who are they?'
Strom contemplated the smoke rising from his cigarette. 'I'll tell you,' he said. 'But it'll be the last sample you'll get.'
'If your answer's right,' Wallander said. 'Who are they?'
'One of them is Richard Tolpin,' Strom said. 'He was born in South Africa. A soldier, mercenary. I don't think there's been a conflict or a war in Africa these last two decades where he hasn't been involved.'
'On which side?'
'The side that paid better. But it looked like turning out badly at the start. When Angola kicked the Portuguese out in 1975 they captured about 20 mercenaries who were sent for trial. Fifteen of them were condemned to death. Including Tolpin. Fourteen of them were shot. I've no idea why they spared Tolpin. Presumably because he could be of use to the new regime.'
'How old is he?'
'Young forties. Very fit. Karate expert. An excellent shot.'
'And the other one?'
'From Belgium. Maurice Obadia. Also a soldier. Younger than Tolpin. Could be 34, maybe 35. That's all I know about him.'
'What are they doing at Farnholm Castle?'
'They're called 'special advisers'. But they're just Harderberg's bodyguards. You couldn't find people who were more skilful, or more dangerous. Harderberg seems to enjoy their company.'
'How do you know that?'
'Sometimes they have shooting practice in the grounds at night. Their targets are quite special.'
'Tell me more.'
'Dummies, big dolls, looking like people. They aim at their heads. And they usually score.'
'Does Harderberg join in?'
'Yes. They sometimes keep going all night.'
'Do you know whether either of them, Tolpin or Obadia, has a Bernadelli pistol?'
'I keep as far away from their guns as possible,' Strom said. 'There are some people you'd rather keep at arm's length.'
'But they must have gun licences,' Wallander said.
Strom smiled. 'Only if they're resident in Sweden,' he said.
'What does that mean? Farnholm Castle is in Sweden, surely?'
'There's something special about 'special advisers',' Strom said. 'They've never set foot in Sweden. So you can't say that they are in this country.'
Carefully he stubbed out his cigarette before he said: 'There's a helicopter pad at the castle. It's always at night, the landing lights are switched on, a helicopter lands, sometimes two. They are off again before dawn. They fly low so they aren't tracked by radar. Whenever Harderberg is going to leave in his Gulfstream, Tolpin and Obadia disappear the night before by helicopter. Then they meet somewhere or other. Could be Berlin. That's where the helicopters are registered. When they come back, it's the same procedure. In other words, you could say they don't go through customs like ordinary folk.'
Wallander nodded thoughtfully. 'Just one more question,' he said. 'How do you know all this? You're confined to your bunker by the main gate. You can't possibly be allowed to roam about wherever you want.'
'That's a question you'll never get the answer to,' Strom said. 'Let's just say it's a trade secret I don't want to pass on to anybody else.'
'I'll fix that certificate for you,' Wallander said.
'What do you know?' Strom said, with a smile. 'I knew we'd strike a deal.'
'You didn't know that at all,' Wallander said. 'When are you next on duty?'
'I work three nights in a row. I start tonight at 7.00.'
'I'll be here at 3.00 this afternoon,' Wallander said. 'I'll have something to show you. Then I'll ask my question.'
Strom stood up and checked through the curtains.
'Is there somebody following you?' Wallander asked.
'You can't be too careful,' Strom said. 'I thought you'd caught on to that.'
Wallander went back to his car and drove to the police station. He paused in reception and asked Ebba immediately to summon a meeting of the investigation team.
'You look pretty stressed,' Ebba said. 'Has something happened?'
'Yes,' Wallander said. 'At long last something has happened. Don't forget Nyberg. I need him to be there.'
Twenty minutes later they were ready to start, although Ebba hadn't been able to reach Hanson, who had
