Henning Mankell - The Fifth Woman

Wallander had approved the use of guns, but he wanted everything to proceed slowly, especially since Katarina Taxell and her baby were inside. Nothing must go wrong. The most important thing was for them to stay calm.

“Now we go,” he said finally. “Pass it on.”

Hoglund spoke softly into the radio and received a series of acknowledgments from the others. She took out her revolver. Wallander shook his head.

“Keep it in your pocket,” he said. “But remember which one.”

The house was still quiet. No movement. They approached, Wallander in the lead, Hoglund behind him to the right. The wind was blowing hard. Wallander took another quick look at his watch. It was 5.19 a.m. Yvonne Ander should be up by now if she was going to make it to work. They stopped outside the door. Wallander took a deep breath, knocked on the door and took a step backwards. He had his hand on the revolver in his pocket. Nothing happened. He took a step forwards and knocked again. He tried the latch. The door was locked. He knocked again. Suddenly he felt uneasy. He pounded on the door. Still no reaction. Something was wrong.

“We’ll have to break in,” he said. “Tell the others. Who has the crowbar? Why didn’t we bring it along?”

Hoglund spoke with a firm voice into the radio. She turned her back to the wind. Wallander kept an eye on the windows next to the door. Svedberg came running with the crowbar. Wallander asked him to return to his position at once. Then he stuck in the crowbar and started prying, putting all his strength into it. The door sprang open at the lock. There was a light on in the hall. He drew his revolver, and Hoglund quickly followed his lead. Wallander crouched and went in. She stood to one side behind him and covered him with her revolver. Everything was quiet.

“Police!” Wallander yelled. “We’re looking for Yvonne Ander.”

Nothing happened. He yelled again. Cautiously he moved towards the room straight ahead of him. Hoglund followed at his flank. The sense of unreality returned. He stepped quickly into a large, open room, sweeping over it with his revolver. It was completely empty. He let his arm drop. Hoglund was on the other side of the door. A huge baking oven stood against one wall.

Suddenly a door opened across the room. Wallander gave a start and raised his revolver again, and Hoglund went down on one knee. Katarina Taxell came through the door dressed in a nightgown. She looked terrified.

Wallander lowered his revolver, and Hoglund did too. At that moment Wallander knew that Yvonne Ander wasn’t in the house.

“What’s happening?” Taxell asked.

Wallander went quickly up to her.

“Where’s Yvonne Ander?”

“She’s not here.”

“Where is she?”

“I assume she’s on her way to work.”

Wallander was now in a big hurry.

“Who came and picked her up?”

“She always drives herself.”

“But her car is still parked outside the house.”

“She has two cars.”

So simple, thought Wallander. Not just the red Golf.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked. “And your baby?”

“Why shouldn’t I feel all right?”

Wallander took a quick look around the room. Then he asked Hoglund to call in the others. They didn’t have much time.

“Get Nyberg here,” he said. “The house has to be gone over from the rafters to the cellar.”

The freezing police officers gathered in the big white room.

“She’s gone,” Wallander said. “She’s on her way to Hassleholm. At least there’s no reason to believe otherwise. She’s supposed to start her shift there. A passenger named Tore Grunden will be getting on too. He’s the next one on her hit list.”

“Is she really going to kill him on the train?” Martinsson asked, incredulous.

“We don’t know. But we don’t want any more murders. We have to catch her.”

“We’ll have to warn our colleagues in Hassleholm,” Hansson said.

“We’ll do that on the way,” Wallander said. “I think Hansson and Martinsson should come with me. The rest of you start on the house. And talk to Katarina Taxell.”

He nodded at her. She was standing next to the wall. The light was grey. She almost blended in with the wall, dissolved, faded. Could a person become so pale that she was no longer visible?

They took off. Hansson drove. Martinsson was just about to call Hassleholm when Wallander told him to wait.

“I think it’s best we do this ourselves,” he said. “If there’s chaos, we don’t know what will happen. She could be dangerous. I understand that now. Dangerous for us too.”

“Of course she is,” Hansson said in surprise. “She’s killed three people. Impaled them on stakes, strangled them, drowned them. If a person like that isn’t dangerous then I don’t know who is.”

“We don’t even know what Grunden looks like,” Martinsson said. “Are we going to page him at the station? And she’ll probably be in uniform.”

“Maybe,” Wallander said. “We’ll see when we get there. Put on the lights. We’ve got no time to lose.”

Hansson drove fast. Time was tight. With about 20 minutes to go, Wallander realised that they wouldn’t make it. One of their tyres blew. Hansson swore and braked. When they saw that the left rear tyre had to be changed, Martinsson wanted to call Hassleholm. If nothing else, they could send a car for them. But Wallander said no. He had made up his mind. They would make it.

They changed the tyre at lightning speed while the wind tore at their clothes. Then they were on the road again. Hansson drove very fast. Time was running out and Wallander tried to decide what they should do. He couldn’t believe that Yvonne Ander would kill Tore Grunden in plain sight of the passengers. It didn’t fit with her previous modus operandi . For the time being they’d have to forget about Grunden. They would look for her, a woman in uniform, and they would grab her as discreetly as possible.

They reached Hassleholm and Hansson started to head in the wrong direction, even though he claimed to know the way. Now Wallander was agitated too, and by the time they reached the station they were almost yelling at each other. They jumped out of the car, its lights flashing and ran towards the platform. We look as though we’re about to rob the ticket office, Wallander thought. They had exactly three minutes left. The train was announced, but Wallander couldn’t hear if it was just arriving or was already there.

He told Martinsson and Hansson that now they had to calm down. They should walk out onto the platform a little apart from each other. When they found her they should grab her from both sides. They couldn’t be sure how she would react. They should be prepared, not with revolvers, but with their hands. Yvonne Ander didn’t use weapons. They should be prepared, but they had to take her without firing a shot.

The wind was still blowing hard. The train hadn’t arrived. The passengers were huddled in whatever shelter from the wind they could find. The station was crowded. They went out onto the platform, Wallander first, Hansson right behind him, and Martinsson out by the track. Wallander spotted a male conductor standing smoking a cigarette. He felt the tension making him sweat. He couldn’t see Yvonne Ander. No women in uniform. Quickly he scanned the crowd for a man who might be Tore Grunden, but it was hopeless. The man had no face. He was just a name in a macabre notebook.

He exchanged glances with Hansson and Martinsson. He looked back towards the entrance to see if she was coming from that direction. At the same time the train came into the station. He knew that something was going very wrong. He couldn’t believe that she intended to kill Grunden on the platform. But he couldn’t be entirely sure. He’d seen the most calculating individuals suddenly lose control and act impulsively when they felt threatened. The passengers started picking up their belongings. Wallander no longer had any choice. He had to talk to the conductor and ask whether Yvonne Ander was already on the train.