‘Hans has had no contact with his father. Nor have there been any transactions in the family bank accounts apart from the withdrawals made by Louise before she disappeared. Hans is dealing with all the post now. No money has been taken out at the bank, nor in any other way.’
Wallander suddenly realised that this was more important than he’d first thought.
‘So what has Hakan been living on while he’s been hidden away? He turns up in Copenhagen, but obviously he doesn’t need any money because he doesn’t contact his son, nor does he make any withdrawals. That seems to suggest that somebody is helping him. Or could he have bank accounts that Hans doesn’t know about?’
‘That’s possible. Hans has lots of contacts in the banking world; he’s looked into it and hasn’t found anything. But there are lots of ways of hiding money.’
Wallander said nothing. He didn’t have any more questions. But he was now beginning to wonder seriously if Hakan von Enke’s not needing money might be a significant clue. Klara started crying.
‘I have to go now,’ Linda said.
‘I can hear that. So you believe we can rule out any secret contacts between Hans and his father, yes?’
‘Yes.’
She hung up. Wallander put down the phone and moved over to the garden hammock. He rocked back and forth, with one foot on the ground. In his mind’s eye he could see Hakan von Enke walking along Stroget. He was walking fast, stopping now and then to turn round before continuing on his way. And then he disappeared, possibly down a side street, or into the mass of people on Stroget.
Wallander woke up with a start. It had begun raining, and drops were falling on his bare foot that was resting on the ground. He stood up and went inside. He closed the door behind him, but then he paused. He could sense some sort of connection, still very vague, but nevertheless something that could shed light on where Hakan von Enke had been since he disappeared. An escape hatch, Wallander thought. When he vanished, he knew what he was going to do. He fled from his walk along Valhallavagen to a place where nobody would be able to find him. Wallander now felt quite sure that Louise had not been prepared for her husband’s disappearance; her worry had been genuine. No proof had come to light, no facts, only this feeling that he found persuasive.
Wallander went to the kitchen. The stone floor felt cold under his bare feet. He was moving slowly, as if he was afraid that the thoughts might disappear. The Lego pieces were on the table. He sat down. An escape hatch, he thought again. Everything planned, well organised - a submarine commander knows how to arrange his environment down to the last detail. Wallander tried to envisage the escape hatch. He had the feeling that he knew where Hakan von Enke was hiding. He had been close by, without noticing.
He leaned over the table and arranged a line of Lego. Everybody who had ever had anything to do with Hakan and Louise. Sten Nordlander; their daughter, Signe; Hans; Steven Atkins in his house near San Diego. But also the others who had been more peripheral. He arranged them in a line, one after the other, and thought about who could have helped von Enke, who might have been able to supply everything needed, including money.
This is what I’m looking for, Wallander thought. An escape hatch. The question is, is Ytterberg thinking along the same lines, or is he playing with different pieces of Lego? He picked up his mobile phone and dialled the number. It was raining harder now, pelting against the tin-plate windowsills. Ytterberg answered. It was a bad connection. Ytterberg was outside, in the street.
‘I’m at an outdoor cafe,’ Ytterberg said. ‘I’m just about to pay. Can I call you back?’
He did so twenty minutes later when he had returned to his office in Bergsgatan.
‘I’m the type that thinks it’s easy to get back to work again after a holiday,’ Ytterberg said in response to Wallander’s question about how he felt, after being off.
‘I can’t say I share that view,’ said Wallander. ‘Going back to work means being faced with a desk overloaded with files passed on by others who have left cheerful little Post-it notes about how pleased they are to be going on holiday.’
He started by reporting on his meeting with Hermann Eber. Ytterberg listened carefully and had several questions. Then Wallander told him about Hakan von Enke’s return. He passed on what Linda had told him; he was even more convinced now that she really saw him.
‘Could your daughter have been mistaken?’
‘No. But I understand why you ask. It’s astonishing.’
‘So there’s no doubt at all that it was him?’
‘No. I know my daughter. If she says it was him, it was him. Not a doppelganger, not somebody who looked like him - it was Hakan von Enke.’
‘What does your future son-in-law have to say?’
‘That his father hadn’t gone to Copenhagen in order to visit him. There’s no reason not to believe him.’
‘But is it really plausible to think that he wouldn’t make contact with his son?’
‘Whether it’s plausible or not I can’t say. But I don’t think Hans is stupid enough to try to mislead Linda.’
‘Mislead his partner, or mislead your daughter?’
‘The mother of his child. If that makes a difference.’
They talked for a while about what von Enke’s reappearance could imply. As far as Ytterberg was concerned, it meant above all else that he would have to reconsider what role Hakan von Enke might have played in the death of his wife.
‘I don’t know what you’ve been thinking,’ said Ytterberg, ‘but I always assumed that he was dead as well. Ever since his wife’s body was discovered on Varmdo, at least.’
‘I’ve had my doubts,’ said Wallander. ‘But if I’d been in charge of the investigation I’d probably have thought the same thing.’
Wallander told him briefly, but nevertheless in detail, his thoughts about von Enke’s escape hatch.
‘Those secret documents we found in Louise’s handbag made me think,’ Ytterberg said. ‘Since von Enke was in hiding, it was reasonable to think that he was involved as well, that they were working together.’
‘As spies?’
‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time in Sweden that a man and his wife had been caught spying. Even if only one of them was directly involved.’
‘I assume you’re referring to Stig Bergling and his wife?’
‘Are there any others?’
It occurred to Wallander that Ytterberg occasionally assumed an arrogant tone of voice that Wallander would never have tolerated under normal circumstances. If somebody in the police station in Ystad had asked him ironic questions like that he would have been furious. But he let it pass - Ytterberg was probably not always aware of how he sounded.
‘Do you know anything about what was on the microfilms? Defence secrets, armaments, foreign policy?’
‘I have no idea. But I get the impression that our Sapo colleagues are worried. They’re insisting that we hand over every single document linked to this investigation, not that there are very many. I’ve been summoned to a meeting later today with a Commander Holm, who is evidently a bigwig in the military intelligence service.’
‘I’d be interested to hear what questions he asks you.’
‘That’s always a good way of finding out what people know already. In other words, you want to know what questions he
‘Exactly.’
‘I promise to let you know.’
The next morning after breakfast he checked all the burners carefully before going out for a walk with Jussi, who ran off like a shot into the lifting mist.
He felt clearer in the head than he had in a very long time. Nothing seemed excessively difficult, and his zest for life was strong. He suddenly started running, challenging the lethargy that had filled him for the last few months. He kept running until he was thoroughly out of breath. The sun was warming things up now. He took off his sweaty shirt, made a face when he saw his protruding belly, and decided, as he had so often before, to start dieting.
On the way back to the house his mobile phone started ringing. Somebody was speaking in a foreign language, a woman, but her voice was very faint, almost completely drowned out by a veritable storm of crackling and noise. After three or four seconds the line went dead. Wallander thought it could have been Baiba. He thought he recognised her voice, despite the background noise. But whoever it was didn’t call back, so he went home and sat out in the garden with a cup of coffee.
It was going to be a lovely summer’s day. He decided to go for a picnic, all on his own. He had always
