in Vietnam,' Harderberg said. 'Prisoners were dropped, but at a great height, for a brief moment, they recovered their freedom to move, until they crashed into the ground and became a part of the greatest freedom of all.' He stood up and buttoned his jacket. 'My helicopter pilots are very skilful,' he said. 'I think they'll manage to drop you so that you land in Stortorget in Ystad. It will be an event that is recorded for ever in the annals of the town's history.'
He's going clean off his rocker, Wallander thought.
'We must now go our different ways,' Harderberg said. 'We have met twice. I think I shall remember you. There were moments when you came close to displaying acumen. In other circumstances I might have been able to find a place for you.'
'The postcard,' Wallander said. 'The postcard Sten Torstensson somehow sent from Finland when he was actually with me in Denmark.'
'It amuses me to copy handwriting,' Harderberg said. 'It could be said that I'm rather good at it. I spent a few hours in Helsinki the day young Torstensson was with you in Jutland. I had a meeting - not a successful one, I'm afraid - with senior people at Nokia. It was like a game, like sticking a twig into an anthill. A game where the aim is to cause confusion. That's all.'
Harderberg held out his hand to Wallander, who was so amazed that he shook it.
Then he turned on his heel and was gone.
Harderberg dominated the whole room whenever he was present. Now that the door had closed behind him there was nothing left. Wallander thought he left a sort of vacuum behind him.
Tolpin was leaning against a pillar, watching Wallander. Obadia was sitting, staring straight ahead.
Wallander refused to believe that Harderberg had given orders for him to be thrown out of a helicopter above the centre of Ystad. But he knew he would have to do something.
The minutes passed. Neither of the men moved.
So, he was to be thrown out, alive, to plummet on to the rooftops, or possibly on to the paving stones in Stortorget. Having to accept that led immediately to panic. It paralysed him, spreading through his body like poison. He could hardly breathe. He tried desperately to think.
Obadia slowly raised his head. Wallander could hear the faint noise of an engine rapidly coming closer. The helicopter was on its way. Tolpin gestured that it was time to go.
By the time they had emerged from the castle, there was still no hint of dawn light, but the helicopter was standing on the pad, its rotors unhurriedly spinning. The pilot was ready to take off the moment they climbed aboard. Wallander was still trying desperately to fashion a way of escaping. Tolpin was walking in front of him, Obadia a few paces behind with a pistol in his hand. They had almost reached the helicopter. Its rotor blades were still slicing the chilly night air. Wallander saw a pile of old broken-up concrete at one corner they were to pass to get to the pad: somebody had been repairing cracks but had not yet cleared away the debris. Wallander slowed down so that Obadia came momentarily between him and Tolpin. Wallander bent down and used his hands as shovels to scoop up as much of the concrete chunks as he could and hurled it up at the rotors. He heard loud, cracking bangs as fragments of concrete flew all around them. For just a moment Tolpin and Obadia thought that somebody was shooting at them and lost sight of what was happening behind them. Wallander flung himself with all his strength at Obadia and succeeded in wrestling his pistol from his grasp. He took a few steps backwards, stumbled and fell. Tolpin stared wide-eyed at what was going on without it properly sinking in, but now he reached into his jacket for his weapon. Wallander fired and hit him in the hip. Obadia hurled himself at Wallander, who fired again. He did not see where he had hit him, but Obadia fell, screaming with pain.
Wallander scrambled to his feet. The pilots might also be armed. But when he pointed the pistol at the open door of the helicopter, he could see only one young man there, and he had his hands above his head. Wallander examined the men he had shot. Both were alive but unlikely to go far. He pocketed Tolpin's pistol, then he walked up to the helicopter. The pilot still had his hands up. Wallander shouted that he should fly away. He took a few paces backwards and watched the helicopter take off then disappear over the roof of the castle, its searchlights probing the dark sky.
He seemed to be seeing everything through a fog. When he rubbed his cheek with his hand, it was covered in blood. A concrete chip had hit him in the face without his noticing it.
Then he ran towards the stables. Sofia screamed when she saw him. He tried to smile, but his face was stiff from his wound.
'Everything's alright,' he said, trying to get his breath back. 'But I've got to ask you to do something. Phone for an ambulance. There are two men with bullet wounds lying on the helipad. Once you've done that, I won't ask you to do anything more for me. You can go back to Sten and take him up on his promise. It's all over here now.'
Then he remembered Harderberg. Time was very short.
As he ran from the stables he slipped in the mud churned up by the horses' hooves and fell. He struggled to his feet and ran towards the gates. He wondered if he would get there in time.
She had got out of the car to stretch her legs, and looked up to see him coming towards her. He saw the horrified expression on her face and realised how alarming he must look. He was covered in blood and mud, his clothes torn. But he had no time to explain. Only one thing mattered, and that was preventing Harderberg from leaving the airport. He shouted to her to get back into the car. Before she had closed her door he had reversed on to the road. He forced the car through the gears, slamming the accelerator hard down, and ignored the red light as he swung into the main road.
'What's the fastest way to Sturup?' he said.
She found a map in the glove pocket and told him the route. We won't make it, he thought. It's too far, we don't have enough time.
'Phone Bjork,' he said, pointing at the car phone.
'I don't know his home number,' she said.
'Then ring the bloody police station and find out, for God's sake!' he yelled. 'Use your head!'
She did as she was told. When the officer on duty wondered if it could not wait until Bjork had come in for work, she too started shouting. The moment she had it, she dialled the number. 'What shall I say?' she said.
'Tell him Harderberg's about to leave the country in his aircraft, and for good,' Wallander said. 'Bjork has to arrange to have him stopped. He has half an hour maximum to do it in.'
When Bjork answered, Wallander listened as Hoglund repeated word for word what he had said. She listened to the response in silence then handed the phone to Wallander.
'He wants to speak to you.'
Wallander took the phone in his right hand and eased the pressure on the accelerator.
'What do you mean, I have to stop Harderberg's jet?' Bjork's voice rasped over the phone.
'He arranged the murders of Gustaf and Sten Torstensson. Strom is dead too.'
'Are you absolutely sure about what you're saying? Where are you right now? Why is the sound so bad?'
'I'm on my way from Farnholm Castle. I don't have time to explain. Harderberg is on his way to the airport now. He must be stopped immediately. If that plane takes off and he leaves Swedish air space, we've lost him.'
'I have to say this all sounds very odd,' Bjork said. 'What have you been doing at Farnholm Castle till this time in the morning?'
Wallander realised that Bjork's questions were perfectly reasonable from his point of view. He wondered how he would have reacted if he had been in Bjork's place.
'I know it sounds outlandish,' he said, 'but this time you
'I shall have to consult Akeson,' Bjork said.
Wallander groaned. 'There really is no time for that. You've heard what I said. There are police officers at Sturup. They have to be told to stop Harderberg.'
'Ring me back in a quarter of an hour,' Bjork said. 'I'll get in touch with Akeson right away.'
Wallander was so furious that he almost lost control of the car.
'Wind down that bloody window!' he said.
She did as he said. Wallander threw the telephone out.
