'I don't know,' she said, almost pleading. 'But someone must have.'
'What kind of secrets?'
'I've already said that I don't know. But Simon was full of secret rooms. I neither wanted nor was able to look into them.'
Wallander nodded.
He ended up sitting in the car. It had started raining again.
What had she meant by that? Simon was a man 'full of secret rooms'. As if the inner office in the shop was only one? As if there were more? That they had not yet found?
He drove slowly back to the station. The anxiety that he had felt earlier became stronger.
The rest of the afternoon and evening they continued to spend working on what little material they had. Wallander went home at around ten o'clock. The squad would be meeting up the following morning at eight.
Back in his apartment, he heated up a can of beans, which was the only thing he could find in the way of food. He fell asleep a little after eleven.
The telephone call came at four minutes to midnight. Wallander lifted the receiver while still half asleep. It was a man who claimed to be out for a late-night walk. He introduced himself as the man who had taken care of Hilda Walden that morning.
'I just saw someone slip into Lamberg's studio,' he whispered.
Wallander sat up in bed.
'Are you sure of that? And it was not a police officer?'
'A shadow slipped in through the door,' he said. 'My heart is bad. But there is nothing wrong with my eyes.'
The connection broke off, most likely due to a problem with the line. Wallander sat with the receiver in his hand. It was unusual for him to be called by someone other than the police, especially at night. His name was of course not printed in the telephone directory. But someone must have given the man Wallander's number during the morning chaos.
Then he got out of bed and quickly put on his clothes.
It was just past midnight.
Wallander arrived at the square where the studio was located a few minutes later. He had walked, or half run, since it was only a short distance from Mariagatan, where he lived. Nonetheless he was out of breath. When he arrived, he spotted a man standing a little way off in the distance. He hurried over to him, greeted him and took him to a place where they still had a view of the entrance but would not be as visible. The man was in his seventies and introduced himself as Lars Backman. He was a retired director of Handels Bank. He still referred to it by its former name, Svenska Handelsbanken.
'I live right next to here, on Agatan,' he said. 'I am always out walking early in the morning and late at night. Doctor's orders.'
'Tell me what happened.'
'I saw a man slip in through the door to the studio.'
'A man? On the phone you called him a shadow.'
'I suppose I automatically thought it was a man. But of course it could have been a woman.'
'And you haven't seen anyone leave the shop?'
'I've been keeping my eye on it. No one has left.'
Wallander nodded. He ran over to the telephone booth and called Nyberg, who answered after the third ring. Wallander had the feeling that he had been asleep. But he didn't ask, he simply explained quickly what had happened. He extracted the most important piece of information, which was that Nyberg had keys to the shop. In addition, he had not left them at the police station but had them with him at home. He had been planning to return to the studio early the next morning in order to wrap up the forensic investigation. Wallander asked him to come as quickly as possible, then ended the call. Deliberated over whether he should contact Hansson or any of the others. All too often Wallander violated the rule that a detective who finds himself in a situa tion beyond his immediate control should never be alone. But Wallander hesitated. Nyberg counted as backup. Once he arrived they would decide how to proceed. Lars Backman was still there. Wallander asked him kindly to leave the square. Another officer was on his way and they needed to be left alone. Backman did not appear to be displeased at this dismissal. He simply nodded and left.
Wallander started to feel cold. He was only wearing a shirt under his coat. The wind had intensified. The cloud cover was breaking up. It was probably only a couple of degrees above freezing. He watched the entrance to the shop. Could Backman have been mistaken? He didn't think so. He tried to figure out if there was a light on inside. But it was impossible to tell. A car went by, then another. Then he spotted Nyberg on the other side of the square and went to meet him. They leaned against the side of a house in order to escape the wind. Wallander kept an eye on the shop entrance the entire time. He quickly told Nyberg what had happened. Nyberg stared back at him in amazement.
'Did you think we were going to go in alone?'
'First I just wanted you to come down here, since you have the keys. And apparently there's no back door.'
'No.'
'So the only way to get in or out is through this door to the street?'
'Yes.'
'Then we'll alert one of the night patrol squads,' Wallander said. 'Then we'll open the door and order him to come out.'
Wallander went and called the station, while maintaining continuous surveillance of the door. He was assured that a night squad would arrive in a couple of minutes. They walked over to the shop. It was now twentyfive minutes to one. The streets were deserted.
Then the door to the studio was opened. A man came out. His face was concealed by the shadows. The three of them caught sight of each other at the same time and came to a halt. Wallander was just about to call out to the man to stay where he was when the man turned round and started to run down North Anggatan at breakneck speed. Wallander shouted to Nyberg to wait for the night squad. Then he followed the suspect, who was moving very quickly. Wallander was unable to gain on him, even though he was running as fast as he could.
The man turned right on Vassgatan and continued on towards Folk Park. Wallander wondered why the night squad hadn't shown up. There was now a great chance that he would lose sight of the fleeing suspect.
The man turned right again and disappeared up Aulingatan. Wallander tripped on some loose flagstones on the pavement and fell. He hit one knee hard on the ground and ripped a hole in his trousers. There was a shooting pain in his knee as he continued running. The distance between himself and the man kept growing. Where were Nyberg and the night squad? He cursed silently. His heart was thumping like a hammer in his chest. The man reached Giodde's Alley and turned out of sight. When Wallander reached the corner he thought he should probably stop and wait for Nyberg. But he kept going. The man was waiting round the corner. A violent blow struck Wallander right in the face. Everything grew dark.
When Wallander came to he did not know where he was. He stared straight up at the stars. The ground underneath him was cold. When he reached out around him, his hands groped asphalt. Then he remembered what had happened. He sat up. His left cheek was aching where he had been struck. With his tongue he could feel that a tooth had been broken. The same tooth he had just had fixed. He got to his feet with some effort. His knee was sore, his head throbbed. Then he looked around. As he expected, the suspect was nowhere to be seen. He limped over to Aulingatan, back towards Surbrunn Road. Everything had happened so fast that he had not had time to register what the man's face looked like. He had turned that corner and then the world had exploded.
The patrol car came from Agatan. Wallander walked out into the middle of the street in order to be seen. Wallander knew the officer who was driving. His name was Peters and he had been in Ystad as long as Wallander himself. Nyberg jumped out of the car.
'What happened?'
'He ran down Giodde's Alley and knocked me down. I don't think we'll find him. But we could always try.'
