The surging of the sea could no longer be heard. Wallander contemplated the man who had been missing for such a long time.
They sat down and said nothing for a while. Eventually they began talking, hesitantly. Slowly, approaching each other with maximum caution.
PART 4
The Phantom
31
It was a long night. Several times it seemed to Wallander that it was a direct continuation of the conversation he and von Enke had had nearly six months previously, in a windowless room off a banqueting hall just outside Stockholm. What he was now beginning to understand surprised him, but it was a more than sufficient explanation of why von Enke had been so worried on that occasion.
Wallander felt nothing like a Stanley who had now found his Livingstone. He had guessed right, that was all. Once again, his intuition had shown him the path to follow. If von Enke was surprised at his hideaway being discovered, he didn’t show it. Wallander thought the old submarine commander was displaying his cold-blooded nature. He didn’t allow himself to be surprised, no matter what happened.
The hunting lodge that seemed so primitive from the outside gave quite a different impression once Wallander had crossed the threshold. There were no inside walls, just one large room with an open kitchenette. A small extension containing a bathroom was the only space with a door. In one corner of the room was a bed. It’s on the small side, Wallander observed, more like a hammock, or the little bunk that even a commander has to make do with on board a submarine. In the middle of the room was a large table covered with books, files and documents. On one of the short walls was a shelf containing a radio, and there was a television set and a record player on a little table. Next to it was a dark red old-fashioned armchair.
‘I didn’t think you’d have electricity here,’ said Wallander.
‘There’s a generator sunk in a little basement blasted out of the rock. You can’t hear the engine even when the water is dead calm.’
Von Enke stood by the stove, making coffee. Neither of them spoke, and Wallander tried to prepare himself for the conversation that would follow. But now that he’d found the man he’d spent so much time looking for, he didn’t know what to ask him. All his previous thoughts seemed to be a blurred jumble of unfinished conclusions.
‘If I remember correctly,’ said von Enke, interrupting Wallander’s thoughts, ‘you take neither milk nor sugar?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t have any bread or biscuits to offer you. Are you hungry?’
‘No.’
Von Enke cleared off part of the big table. Wallander noted that most of the books were about modern warfare and contemporary politics. One that seemed to have been read more than any of the others was titled simply
The coffee was strong. Von Enke was drinking tea. Wallander regretted not having chosen the same.
It was ten minutes to one.
‘Naturally I understand that you have a lot of questions you want answers to,’ said von Enke. ‘I may not be able or willing to answer all of them, but before we come to that I must ask you a few questions. First and foremost: did you come here alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who else knows where you are?’
‘Nobody.’
Wallander could see that von Enke wasn’t sure whether to believe him.
‘Nobody,’ he repeated. ‘This trip was entirely my own idea. Nobody else has been involved.’
‘Not even Linda?’
‘Not even Linda.’
‘How did you get here?’
‘In a little boat with an outboard motor. If you want I can give you the name of the firm I hired it from. But the man had no idea where I was going. I told him I was going to surprise an old friend for his birthday. I’m sure he believed me.’
‘Where is the boat?’
Wallander pointed over his shoulder.
‘On the other side of the island. Beached, and tied up to some alder trees.’
Von Enke sat there silently, staring at his teacup. Wallander waited.
‘How did you find me?’
Von Enke seemed tired when he asked the question. Wallander could understand that being on the run was strenuous, even if you weren’t on the move all the time.
‘When I visited Boko, Eskil Lundberg mentioned in passing that this cottage was perfect for anybody who wanted to disappear from the face of the earth. We were on the way to the mainland when we sailed past. You know I’ve been to see him, of course. What he said stayed at the back of my mind, nagging away at me. And then when I heard that you were particularly fond of islands, I realised that this might be where you were.’
‘Who told you about me and my islands?’
Wallander decided on the spot not to say anything about Sten Nordlander for the time being. He could give von Enke an answer that would be impossible to check.
‘Louise.’
Von Enke nodded, silently. Then he straightened his back, as if steeling himself for battle.
‘We can do this in two ways,’ Wallander said. ‘Either you tell me all about it, or I ask questions and you answer them.’
‘Am I accused of anything?’
‘No. But your wife is dead, so you are automatically a suspect.’
‘I can understand that completely.’
Suicide or murder, Wallander thought. You seem to be well aware of the score. Wallander knew he had to proceed cautiously. After all, the man he was talking to was somebody he knew very little about.
‘Let’s hear it, then,’ said Wallander. ‘I’ll interrupt you if anything is unclear. You can start at Djursholm, when you had your birthday party.’
Von Enke shook his head demonstratively. His tiredness seemed to have evaporated. He walked over to the stove, refilled his cup with hot water and added a new tea bag. He remained standing, cup in hand.
‘I need to begin earlier than that. There can be only one starting point,’ he said. ‘It’s simple, but absolutely true. I loved my wife, Louise, more than anything else in the world. God forgive me for saying it, but I loved her more than I did my son. Louise embodied the happiness in my life - seeing her come into a room, seeing her smile, hearing her moving around in the next room.’
He fell silent and gave Wallander a look that was both piercing and challenging. He demanded an answer, or at least a reaction from Wallander’s side.
‘Yes,’ said Wallander. ‘I believe you.’
Von Enke began his story.
‘We need to go back a long way. There’s no need for me to go into detail. It would take too much time, and it isn’t necessary. But we have to go back to the 1960s and 70s. I was still active on board naval vessels then, often
