reserve officer. Palme listened attentively to what von Enke had to say. And what he had to say was unambiguous. When it came to his relationship with his employer, the Swedish defence forces, von Enke had violated every convention there was. By approaching the prime minister on his own initiative he had burned all bridges with the supreme commander and his staff. There was no going back now. He felt obliged to say exactly what he thought about the whole business. He spoke for over ten minutes before coming to the main point. And Palme listened, he said. With his mouth half open, and looking him in the eye from start to finish. Afterwards, when von Enke had reached the end of his diatribe, Palme thought for a while before asking questions. He wanted to know first of all if the military had been certain about the nationality of the submarine, and if it definitely was from one of the Warsaw Pact countries. Hakan responded by asking a different question, Nordlander said. He wondered where else it could have come from. Palme didn’t reply, merely pulled a face and shook his head. When Hakan started to speak about treason and a military and political scandal, Palme interrupted and said this was a discussion that should take place in a different context, not during a private interview with the prime minister. That was as far as they got. A secretary peered discreetly round the door and reminded Palme of another meeting that was scheduled to begin. When Hakan came out he was sweating, but also relieved. Palme had listened to him, he said. He was full of optimism and convinced that things would now start moving. The prime minister doubtless understood what Hakan had said about treason. He would corner his minister of defence and his supreme commander and demand an explanation. Who had opened the cage and let the submarine escape? And above all, why?
Sten Nordlander glanced at his watch.
‘What happened next?’ Wallander asked after a short pause.
‘It was Christmas. Everything stood still for a few days, but just before the new year, Hakan was summoned to the supreme commander. He was given a stern reprimand for going behind his superior’s back and meeting Olof Palme. But Hakan was bright enough to realise that the main criticism was aimed at the prime minister, who should never have agreed to meet a naval officer who had gone astray.’
‘But Hakan must have continued to ferret away? Surely he didn’t give up, despite having been reprimanded.’
‘He’s continued ferreting away ever since. For twenty-five years.’
‘You are his closest friend. He must have spoken to you about the threats he received.’
Nordlander nodded, but said nothing.
‘And now he’s disappeared.’
‘He’s dead. Somebody killed him.’
The response came promptly and firmly. Nordlander talked about Hakan’s death as if it were obvious.
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘What is there to be doubtful about?’
‘Who killed him? And why?’
‘I don’t know. But perhaps he knew something that eventually became too dangerous.’
‘It’s been twenty-five years since those submarines entered Swedish waters. What could be dangerous after all these years? Good Lord, the Soviet Union no longer exists. The Berlin Wall has come down. And East Germany? All that belongs to a bygone era. What spectres could suddenly emerge now?’
‘We think it’s all over and done with, that the final curtain has fallen. But it could be that somebody merely stepped into the wings and changed costume. The repertoire may be different, but everything is being acted out on the same stage.’
Sten Nordlander stood up.
‘We can continue another day. My wife is expecting me now.’
He drove Wallander back to his hotel. Just before they parted, Wallander realised he had another question to ask.
‘Was anyone else really close to Hakan?’
‘No one was close to Hakan. Except Louise, perhaps. Old sea dogs are usually reserved. They like to keep to themselves. I wasn’t really close to him myself. I suppose you could say we were
Wallander could tell that Nordlander was hesitant about something. Was he going to say it, or wasn’t he?
‘Steven Atkins,’ said Nordlander. ‘An American submarine captain. A year or so younger. I think he’ll be seventy-five next year.’
Wallander took out his notebook and wrote down the name.
‘Do you have an address?’
‘He lives in California, not far from San Diego. He used to be stationed at Groton, the big naval base.’
Wallander wondered why Louise hadn’t mentioned Steven Atkins. But that wasn’t something Wallander wanted to trouble Nordlander about - he seemed to be in a hurry and was revving the engine impatiently.
Wallander watched the gleaming car drive off up the hill.
Then he went to his room and thought about what he had heard. But there was still no sign of Hakan von Enke, and Wallander felt that he wasn’t a single step closer to solving the problem.
8
The following morning Linda called to ask how Stockholm was. He didn’t beat around the bush but told her Louise seemed to be convinced that Hakan was no longer alive.
‘Hans refuses to believe that,’ she said. ‘He’s certain that his father isn’t dead.’
‘But deep down he probably suspects it’s as bad as Louise says.’
‘What do you think?’
‘It doesn’t look good.’
Wallander asked if she had spoken to anyone in Ystad. He knew she was sometimes in touch with Kristina Magnusson privately.
‘The internal affairs team has returned to Malmo,’ she said. ‘That probably means they’ll be reaching a decision on your case any time now.’
‘I might get the boot,’ Wallander said.
She sounded almost indignant when she responded.
‘It was incredibly silly of you to take the pistol to the restaurant with you, but if that leads to you getting fired we can assume that several hundred other Swedish police officers will get their marching orders as well. For much worse breaches of discipline.’
‘I’m assuming the worst,’ said Wallander gloomily.
‘When you’ve shrugged off that self-pity we can talk again,’ she said and hung up.
Wallander thought she was right, of course. He would probably get a warning, possibly a fine. He picked up the phone again to call her back but thought better of it. There was too big a risk that they might start arguing. He got dressed, had breakfast, and then called Ytterberg, who had promised to see him at nine o’clock. Wallander asked if they had any leads, but they didn’t.
‘We got a tip that von Enke had been seen in Sodertalje,’ said Ytterberg. ‘God only knows why he should want to go there. But there was nothing in it. It was just a man in a uniform. And our friend wasn’t wearing a uniform when he set off on his long walk.’
‘All the same, it’s odd that nobody seems to have seen him,’ said Wallander. ‘As I understand it, lots of people go jogging or walk their dogs in Lill-Jansskogen.’
‘I agree,’ said Ytterberg. ‘That’s something that worries us as well. But nobody seems to have seen him at all. Come at nine o’clock and we can have a chat. I’ll be waiting for you in reception.’
Ytterberg was tall and powerfully built, and reminded Wallander of a well-known Swedish wrestler. He glanced at Ytterberg’s ears to see if there was any of the cauliflower-like disfigurement so common among wrestlers, but he could see no sign of an earlier wrestling career. Despite his bulk, Ytterberg was light on his feet. They hardly touched the ground as he hurried along the hallways with Wallander in tow. They eventually came to a messy office with a gigantic inflatable dolphin lying in the middle of the floor.
‘It’s for one of my grandchildren,’ Ytterberg explained. ‘Anna Laura Constance is going to get it for her ninth
