Хеннинг Манкелль - Firewall

“What’s beyond those trees?” Wallander hissed.

“There’s a path down to the sea,” Elofsson said.

“Are there any houses down there?”

No one knew.

“We’ll try to surround him,” Wallander said. “Now at least we have a better idea of where he is.”

Hansson managed to locate Martinsson and tell him where they were. Meanwhile Wallander dispatched Elofsson and El Sayed deeper into the shadows. The whole time he expected the suspect to turn up alongside the car with his gun cocked.

“What about a helicopter?” Martinsson asked.

“Good idea. Make sure it has strong spotlights. But don’t let it turn up until all of us are in place.”

Martinsson turned to his radio and Wallander carefully looked out at the terrain. Since it was dark, he couldn’t really see anything, and since the wind had picked up it was hard for him to hear anything, either. It was impossible for him to determine if the sounds he heard were real or imagined.

Martinsson crept over to him.

“They’re on their way. Hansson has dispatched a helicopter.” Wallander never had time to answer. At that moment another shot was fired. They steeled themselves.

The shot had come somewhere from the left. Wallander had no idea who the intended target was. He called out to Elofsson, and El Sayed called back. Then he also heard Elfosson’s voice. Wallander knew he had to do something. He called out into the darkness.

“Police! Lay down your weapon!”

Then he repeated the phrase in English.

There was no answer, only the wind.

“I don’t like this,” Martinsson whispered. “Why is he still there shooting at us? Why doesn’t he leave? He must know there are reinforcements on the way.”

Wallander didn’t reply. He had started thinking the same thing. Then they heard police sirens in the distance.

“Why didn’t you tell them to be quiet?”

Wallander didn’t try to hide his irritation.

“Hansson should have known better.”

At the same moment El Sayed cried out. Wallander thought he glimpsed a shadow running across the road and out into the field that lay to the left of the car. Then it was gone.

“He’s getting away,” Wallander hissed.

“Where?”

Wallander pointed in the direction where the shadow had been, but there was no point. Martinsson couldn’t see anything. Wallander realized he had to act fast. If the suspect made it across the field he would reach a larger stretch of forest and then it would be harder to get him. He told Martinsson to move, then he jumped into the car, started it, and pulled it around violently. He hit something but didn’t stop to look what it was. But now the headlights were shining straight out into the field.

The man was out there. When the light hit him he stopped and turned around. The raincoat flapped in the wind. Wallander saw the man raise one arm. He threw himself to the side. The bullet went straight through the windshield. Wallander rolled out of the car while he yelled to the others to get down. Another shot rang out. It took out a headlight. Wallander wondered if the man was just a lucky shot or if he had meant to hit it. It was much harder to see now.

The police sirens were getting closer. Suddenly Wallander was afraid that the approaching cars were going to be a target. He yelled out to Martinsson to radio the cars and tell them not to approach until they received an all-clear.

“I’ve dropped the radio,” Martinsson said. “I can’t find it in this shit.”

The man in the field was quickly disappearing. Wallander saw him trip and almost fall. Wallander knew he had to make a quick decision. He got to his feet.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“We have to take him,” Wallander said.

“We have to surround him first.”

“Before we do that, he’ll get away.”

Wallander looked at Martinsson, who shook his head. Then he started running. The mud immediately started caking up under his shoes. The man was beyond the reach of the light now. Wallander stopped and made sure his gun was cocked. Behind him he heard Martinsson shouting to El Sayed and Elofsson. Wallander stayed slightly outside the light from the remaining headlight and sped up. Then one of his shoes sank down in the mud and came off. Wallander angrily ripped off the other. His feet immediately became cold and wet, but it was easier to walk over the mud. He suddenly caught sight of the man, who was also having trouble crossing the plowed mud.

The distance between them was still so great that Wallander did not dare try to immobilize him by shooting at his legs. In the distance he heard a helicopter, but it did not come closer. It seemed to be awaiting further orders. They were out in the middle of the field now and the light from the car was very weak. Wallander knew he had to do something, he just didn’t know what. He was a mediocre shot. The man in front of him had missed his mark twice in a row, but Wallander still sensed he was better with his weapon than Wallander was with his. He had hit the headlight from very far away. Wallander frantically tried to think of something that would work. He didn’t understand why neither Hansson nor Martinsson ordered the helicopter to advance.

Suddenly the man tripped and fell. Wallander stopped. Then he saw that the man was looking for something. It took Wallander a split second to understand that he had dropped his gun and was looking for it. They were about thirty meters apart. I don’t have enough time , he thought, but then he was running and jumping across the stiff furrows. A few times he almost lost his balance. Then the man saw him. Even though it was dark, Wallander could tell he looked Asian.

Wallander’s left foot slipped out from under him as if he were on an ice floe. He didn’t manage to recover and ended up falling headfirst into the mud. At that moment his opponent found his gun. Wallander had one knee up and saw that the gun was aimed straight at him. Wallander pulled his own trigger. The gun didn’t work. He tried again with the same result. In a last desperate attempt to survive, Wallander threw himself to the side and tried to sink down into the mud. That was when the shot was fired. Wallander flinched, but he had not been hit. He lay motionless and waited for his opponent to fire again. But nothing happened. Wallander had no sense of how long he lay there. He felt as if he were watching himself from a distance, observing the situation. So this was how it would end: a meaningless death in a muddy field. This is where he had brought his dreams and intentions. Now nothing would come of them. He would disappear into the final darkness with his face pressed down into the cold wet clay, and he wasn’t even wearing any shoes.

It was only when he heard the sound of a rapidly approaching helicopter that he dared to think he might survive. He carefully looked up.

The man lay on his back with his arms spread. Wallander got up and slowly walked closer. He could see the floodlights on the helicopter starting to search the far end of the field. Some dogs were barking and somewhere far away he heard Martinsson’s voice.

The man was dead. The shot Wallander had heard had not been meant for him after all. The man lying in the mud had shot himself in the temple. Wallander was overcome by a sudden onset of nausea and dizziness and had to sit down. His clothes were cold and wet and now he finally started shaking.

Wallander looked at the body in front of him. He didn’t know who this man was or why he had come to Ystad, but his death was a relief. This was the man who had entered Falk’s apartment when Wallander was there waiting for Marianne Falk. He had tried to shoot Wallander on two separate occasions. Most likely he had also dragged Sonja Hökberg to the power substation, and thrown Jonas Landahl into the propeller axle on the Polish ferry. There were many question marks, but as Wallander sat there on the muddy field he felt that at least something had come to an end.