been called to an important meeting in Stockholm. She didn’t question that, merely asked how long he was going to be away.
‘A couple of days. Maybe three.’
‘Where will you be staying?’
‘At the Mariners’ Hotel. For the first night, at least. I might stay with Sten Nordlander after that.’
It was seven thirty by the time he had packed a few clothes into a bag, locked up the house and settled in his car to drive to Malmo. After much hesitation he had also packed his - or rather, his father’s - old shotgun and a few cartridges, as well as his service revolver. He was going to travel by train and wouldn’t need to pass through security checks. He didn’t like the idea of taking weapons, but on the other hand, he didn’t dare travel without them.
He checked into a cheap hotel on the outskirts of Malmo, had dinner at a restaurant not far from Jagersro, and then went for a long walk to tire himself out. He was up and dressed by five the next morning. When he paid his bill, he made arrangements for his car to stay in the hotel car park until he returned, then ordered a taxi to take him to the train station. He could feel it was going to be a hot day.
Wallander usually felt at his most alert in the mornings. That had been the case for as long as he could remember. As he stood outside the hotel, waiting for his taxi, he had no doubts. He was doing the right thing. At long last he felt he was approaching a solution to everything that had happened.
He spent the train journey to Stockholm sleeping, leafing through various newspapers, half solving a few crossword puzzles, and simply sitting back and letting his mind wander. His thoughts returned over and over again to that evening in Djursholm. He recalled all the photos he had at home of that occasion. How Hakan von Enke seemed worried. And just one picture of Louise when she wasn’t smiling. The only picture in which she was serious.
He ate a couple of sandwiches and drank coffee in the restaurant car, surprised by the prices, then sat with his head in his hands, gazing absent-mindedly out the window at the countryside hurrying past.
Shortly after Nassjo, what he always dreaded nowadays happened. He suddenly had no idea where he was going. He had to check his ticket in order to remember. His shirt was soaked in sweat after this attack of forgetfulness. Yet again he had been shaken.
He checked into the Mariners’ Hotel at about noon. Sten Nordlander arrived shortly after four. He was tanned, and his hair had been cut short. He also seemed to have lost weight. His face lit up when he saw Wallander.
‘You look tired,’ Nordlander said. ‘Haven’t you made the most of your holiday?’
‘Apparently not,’ Wallander replied.
‘It’s lovely weather - shall we go out, or would you prefer to stay here?’
‘Let’s go out. How about Mosebacke? It’s warm enough to sit out in the sun.’
As they walked up the hill to the square, Wallander said nothing about why he had come to Stockholm. And Sten Nordlander didn’t ask any questions. The walk winded Wallander, but Nordlander seemed to be in good shape. They sat out on the terrace, where nearly all the tables were occupied. It would soon be autumn, with its chilly evenings. Stockholmers were taking advantage of the opportunity to sit outside for as long as possible.
Wallander ordered tea - he had a stomach ache from drinking too much coffee. Nordlander decided on a beer and a sandwich.
Wallander braced himself.
‘I wasn’t really telling you the truth when I said that nothing had happened. But I didn’t want to talk about it on the phone.’
He was observing Nordlander carefully as he spoke. The expression of surprise on his face seemed to be completely genuine.
‘Hakan?’he asked.
‘Yes. I know where he is.’
Nordlander’s eyes never left Wallander’s face. He doesn’t know, Wallander thought, and felt relieved. He hasn’t the slightest idea. Right now I need somebody I can rely on.
Nordlander said nothing, waited. There was a buzz of conversation on all sides.
‘Tell me what happened!’
‘I will. But first, let me ask you a few questions. I want to make sure my interpretation of how all these events are connected is correct. Let’s discuss politics. What did Hakan stand for, during his time as an active officer? What were his political views? Regarding Olof Palme, for example? It’s well known that a lot of military men hated him and didn’t hesitate to spread absurd rumours about him being mentally ill and being treated in a hospital, or that he was a spy for the Soviet Union. How does Hakan fit in with that?’
‘Not at all. As I’ve told you. Hakan was never one of the main antagonists of Olof Palme and the Social Democratic government. As you no doubt recall, he actually met Palme on one occasion. I think he thought that the criticism of Palme was unfair, and that there was an overestimation of the Soviet Union’s capacity for waging war and their desire to attack Sweden.
‘Have you ever had reason to believe that he wasn’t being honest?’
‘Why would I? Hakan is a patriot, but he is very analytical. I think he was turned off by all the extreme hatred of Russia that surrounded him.’
‘What were his views on the USA?’
‘Critical in many ways. I remember him saying once that the USA is in fact the only country in the world that has used a nuclear weapon to attack another country. Obviously, you can talk about the special circumstances that applied at the end of the Second World War, but the fact remains: America has used an atomic bomb on people. Nobody else has done that. Not yet.’
Wallander had no more questions for the moment. Nothing of what Nordlander said was surprising or unexpected. Wallander received the answers he thought he would get. He poured himself some tea and decided that the time was now ripe.
‘We spoke earlier about there being a spy in the Swedish military. Somebody who was never exposed.’
‘Rumours like that are always flying around. If you don’t have anything else to talk about, you can speculate about moles digging their tunnels.’
‘If I’ve understood those rumours correctly they suggested there was a spy who was in many ways more dangerous than Wennerstrom.’
‘I don’t know about that, but I suppose a spy you don’t catch is always going to be a bigger threat than any other.’
Wallander nodded.
‘There was also another rumour,’ he continued. ‘Or rather, there is a rumour that still persists. That this unknown spy is in fact a woman.’
‘I don’t think anybody believed that. Not in my circles, at any rate. There are so few women in the armed forces with access to classified documents, it’s just not credible.’
‘Did you ever speak to Hakan about this?’
‘A woman spy? No, never.’
‘Louise was a spy,’ Wallander said slowly. ‘She spied for the Soviet Union.’
At first Sten Nordlander didn’t seem to grasp what Wallander had said. Then he realised the significance of what he had just heard.
‘It can’t be possible.’
‘It not only
‘Well, I don’t believe it. What proof do you have?’
‘The police found microfilms of classified documents, and also several photographic negatives hidden in Louise’s handbag. I don’t know exactly what they were, but I’ve become convinced that they prove she was participating in high-level espionage. Against Sweden, for Russia, and before that for the Soviet Union. In other words, she was active for a very long time.’
Sten Nordlander eyed him incredulously.
‘Do you really expect me to believe this?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Questions are welling up inside me, arguments protesting that what you say can’t be true.’
‘But can you know beyond question that I’m wrong?’
