Henning Mankell - The Pyramid

They waited. Six minutes to eight came Hansson's dispatch. The bird has landed. Rolf Nyman had driven slowly.

Martinsson and Wallander stood up. Rydberg looked up from his crossword puzzle and nodded.

They arrived at the house at half past eight. Svedberg greeted them. The dog barked. But the house was dark.

'I've checked the lock,' Svedberg said. 'A simple pass key is enough.'

Wallander and Svedberg held up their torches while Martinsson picked the lock. Svedberg left to resume his post as lookout.

They went in. Wallander turned on all the lights, which took Martinsson by surprise.

'Nyman is playing records at a disco in Lund,' Wallander said. 'Let's get started.'

They proceeded slowly and methodically through the house. They found no traces of a woman anywhere. Apart from the bed that Holm had used there was only one other single bed.

'We should have brought a drug-detection dog,' Martinsson said.

'I think it's unlikely he keeps any supplies at home,' Wallander said.

They searched the house for three hours. Shortly before midnight Martinsson contacted Hansson on the police dispatch radio.

'There are a lot of people here,' Hansson said. 'And the music is thundering like hell. I'm staying outside. But it's cold.'

They continued to search. Wallander had started to worry. No drugs, no weapons. Nothing that indicated any involvement on Nyman's part. Martinsson had searched the basement and the outlying building thoroughly. No lighting equipment. Nothing. Just the dog that was barking like crazy. Several times Wallander had felt an urge to shoot it. But he loved dogs, deep down. Even dogs that barked.

At half past one Martinsson got in touch with Hansson again. Still nothing.

'What did he say?' Wallander asked.

'That a lot of people were crowded around outside.'

At two o'clock they could get no further. Wallander had started to realise that he had made a mistake. There was no indication that Rolf Nyman was anything other than a DJ. The lie about a girlfriend could hardly be considered criminal. And they had also not found any indications that Nyman was a drug addict.

'I think we can wrap this up,' Martinsson said. 'We haven't found anything.'

Wallander nodded.

'I'm staying behind for a while,' Wallander answered. 'But you and Svedberg can go home. Leave me the radio.'

Martinsson put the radio, which was turned on, on the table.

'Time to call it quits,' Wallander said. 'Hansson will have to wait until I call him, but everyone at the station can go home.'

'What do you think you'll find when you're alone?'

Wallander caught the sarcastic tone in Martinsson's voice.

'Nothing,' he said. 'Perhaps I just need more time to realise I've led us in the wrong direction.'

'We'll start over tomorrow,' Martinsson said. 'That's life.'

Martinsson left. Wallander sat down and looked around the room. The dog was barking. Wallander cursed under his breath. He was convinced he was right. It was Rolf Nyman who had killed the two sisters and Holm. But he found no evidence. He found nothing. He remained seated for a while longer. Then he started to walk around and turn out the lamps.

Then the dog stopped barking.

Wallander stopped. Listened. The dog was quiet. Immediately he sensed danger. Where it came from, he didn't know. The disco was supposed to be open until three in the morning. Hansson had not contacted him.

Wallander did not know what made him react. But suddenly he realised he was standing in a window that was clearly illuminated from the inside. He threw himself to the side. At that moment, the windowpane shattered. Wallander lay motionless on the floor. Someone had fired a shot. Confused thoughts went through his head. It could not be Nyman. Hansson would have told him. Wallander pressed himself against the floor while he tried to pull out his own gun. He tried to crawl deeper into the shadows but saw that he was about to enter the light again. The person who had fired the shot may have made it up to the window by now. Overhead there was a ceiling lamp that was lighting up the room. He got out his weapon and aimed it at the strong bulb. When he pressed the trigger his hand was shaking so hard that he missed. He aimed again, holding it with two hands now. The shot shattered the bulb. The room became darker. He sat still, listening. His heart was pounding in his chest. What he needed most of all was the police dispatch radio. But it was on the table several metres away. And the table was in a pool of light.

The dog was still silent. He listened. Suddenly he thought he heard someone in the hall. Almost inaudible steps. He aimed the weapon at the doorway. His hands shook. But no one came in. How long he waited, he didn't know. The whole time he was feverishly trying to understand what was happening. Then he noticed that the table was on a rug. Carefully, without putting his gun down, he started to pull on the rug. The table was heavy. But it was moving. He saw how it was moving closer, extremely gently. But just when he had the radio within reach, a second shot rang out. It hit the radio, which shattered. Wallander curled up into the corner. The shot had come from the front of the house. Wallander knew that he would no longer be able to shield himself if the shooter walked round to the back of the house. I have to get out, he thought. If I stay here I'm dead. He tried desperately to come up with a plan. He had no chance of getting at the outside lights. The person out there would shoot him first. So far, the person shooting had shown himself to have a steady hand.

Wallander knew he had only one choice. A thought that was more repellent to him than anything. But he had no choice. He took several deep breaths. Then he got to his feet, rushed out into the hall, kicked open the door, threw himself to the side, and aimed three shots into the dog run. A howl signalled that he had hit the mark. Every second that went by, Wallander expected to die. But the dog's howls gave him time to slip into the shadows. Then he spotted Rolf Nyman. He was standing in the middle of the yard, momentarily bewildered by the shooting of the dog. Then he saw Wallander.

Wallander closed his eyes and fired two shots. When he opened his eyes again he saw that Rolf Nyman had fallen to the ground. Slowly Wallander walked up to him.

He was alive. A bullet had caught him in the side. Wallander took the weapon out of his hand, and then went up to the dog run. The dog was dead.

Wallander heard sirens approaching in the distance.

His whole body shaking, he sat down on the front steps and waited.

At that moment he noticed that it had started to rain.

At a quarter past four, Wallander was sitting in the station break room drinking a cup of coffee. His hands were still shaking. After the first chaotic hour when no one had really been able to explain what had happened, the picture had finally cleared up. When Martinsson and Svedberg had left Nyman's home and contacted Hansson on the police dispatch, the police in Lund had stormed Linda Boman's disco, since they suspected that the number of people inside exceeded the legal limit. In the general chaos that had ensued Hansson had misunderstood what Martinsson had said. He had believed that everyone had left Nyman's house. Then he had also realised too late that Nyman had sneaked out a back door that he had missed due to an oversight when he had inspected the disco. He had asked an officer in charge where the employees were and had been told that they had been brought down to the Lund station for questioning. He had assumed that this group included Rolf Nyman. Then he had decided there was no longer any reason for him to stay in Lund and had driven back to Ystad with the belief that Nyman's house had been empty for more than an hour.