Хеннинг Манкелль - The Man Who Smiled

His next question was crucial. “Kurt Ström really should have been on duty tonight,” he said.

“They called down from the castle and said I had to do his shift because he was sick.”

“Who called?”

“One of the secretaries.”

“Tell me exactly what she said, word for word.”

“‘Kurt Ström is sick.’ That’s all.”

As far as Wallander was concerned, he now had confirmation that everything had gone wrong. Ström had been unmasked, and Wallander had no illusions about the ability of the men around Harderberg to extract the truth from him.

He looked at the terrified woman. She was clinging to her knitting.

“There’s a man just outside,” he said, pointing to the window. “He’s armed just like me. If you sound the alarm after I’ve gone, you will not finish knitting that sweater.”

He could see that she believed him.

“Whenever the gates open it’s recorded up at the castle, is that right?” he said.

She nodded.

“What happens if there’s a power outage?”

“A big generator cuts in automatically.”

“Is it possible to open the gates by hand? Without it being registered by the computers?”

She nodded again.

“OK. Switch off the power supply to the gates,” he said. “Open the gates for me, then close them behind me. Then switch the electricity back on.”

He was sure she would do as he said. He opened the bunker door and shouted to the man who did not exist that he was coming out, that the gates were going to be opened and closed, and that everything was under control. She unlocked a box at the side of the gate to reveal a winch. When the gap was wide enough Wallander slipped through.

“Do exactly as I said. As long as you do so, nothing will happen to you,” he said.

Then he ran through the grounds toward the stables, picturing the route in his mind’s eye from the map he had studied. All was very quiet, and when he was close enough to see the lights from the stables he paused and made the first call to Höglund. When she started asking questions he switched off. He went on walking cautiously toward the stables. The apartment where Sofia lived was in an annex built onto the main building. He stood for a considerable time in the shadow of a little thicket, observing the stables and the area around them. Occasionally he heard scrapes and thuds from the stalls. A light was on in the annex. He made himself think completely calmly. The fact that Ström had been shot did not necessarily mean that they had realized there was a connection between him and the new stable girl. Nor was it certain that the call she had made to Widén had been tapped. The uncertainty was the best Wallander could hope for. He wondered if they would have contingency plans to deal with a man having broken into the castle grounds.

He stayed in the shadows under the trees for several more minutes, then crouched and ran as fast as he could to the door of the annex. He expected at any moment to be hit by a bullet. He knocked on the door, trying the handle at the same time. It was locked. Then he heard Sofia’s voice, sounding very frightened, and he said who he was: Roger. Sten’s friend Roger. He couldn’t remember the surname he’d come up with. But she opened the door and he noted the expression of surprise mixed with relief on her face. The apartment comprised a small kitchen and a living room with an alcove for a bedroom. He indicated with a finger to his lips that she should be quiet. They sat in the kitchen, facing each other across the table. He could hear the thuds from the stalls very clearly now.

Wallander said: “I don’t have a lot of time and I can’t explain why I’m here. So just answer my questions, please, nothing else.”

He unfolded the map and laid it on the table.

“There was a man lying on a path,” he said. “Can you point to where?”

She leaned across and drew a little circle with her index finger on a track marked to the south of the stables.

“About there,” she said.

“I have to ask you if you had seen the man before.”

“No.”

“What was he wearing?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Was it a uniform?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. My mind’s a blank.”

There was no point in pressing her further. Her terror had affected her memory.

“Has anything else happened today, anything out of the ordinary?”

“No.”

“Nobody’s been here to talk to you?”

“No.”

Wallander tried to figure out what that meant. But the image of Ström lying there in the darkness forced all other thoughts from his mind.

“I’m going now,” he said. “If anybody comes, don’t tell them I’ve been.”

“Will you come back?” she said.

“I don’t know. But you don’t need to worry, nothing’s going to happen.”

He peered out through a crack in the curtains, hoping the assurance he had just given her really would turn out to be true. Then he opened the door quickly and ran to the back of the building. He did not stop until he was in the shadows again. A slight breeze had started blowing. Beyond the trees he could see the powerful beams lighting up the dark red facade of the castle. He could also see lights in several of the windows on all floors.

He was shivering.

After thinking hard once more about the map he had lodged in his memory, he set off again, flashlight in hand. He passed the site of an artificial lake that had been drained of water. Then he turned left and began looking for the path. He glanced at his watch and saw that he had forty minutes before he was due to contact Höglund again.

Just as he was beginning to think he was lost, he found the path. It was about a meter wide, and he could see the tracks of horses’ hooves. He stood still, listening. But it was silent everywhere, although the wind seemed to be getting stronger. He continued along the path, expecting to be grabbed at any moment.

After about five minutes he stopped. If she had indicated correctly on the map, he had walked too far. Was he on the wrong path? He went on, more slowly. After another hundred meters he was sure he must have passed the point she had marked by now.

He stood still, feeling uneasy.

There was no sign of Ström. The body must have been taken away. He turned and began to retrace his steps, wondering what to do next. He stopped again, this time because he needed to urinate. He stepped into the bushes by the side of the path. When he had finished he took the map from his pocket and checked again, just to be certain that he had not mistaken the spot Sofia had circled, or taken the wrong path.

As he turned on the flashlight he caught sight of a naked foot. He gave a start and dropped the flashlight, which went out when it landed on the ground. He must have imagined it. He bent down to retrieve the flashlight. He turned it on again and found himself looking straight at Kurt Ström’s dead face. It was ashen, the lips tightly clenched. Blood had drained away and coagulated on his cheeks. He had an entry wound in the middle of his forehead. Wallander thought about what had happened to Sten Torstensson. He stood up and hurried away. Leaned against a tree and threw up. Then he ran. He got as far as the empty lake and sank to his knees at its edge. Somewhere in the background a bird flew, clattering, from the top of a tree. He jumped down into the lake bed and crept to a corner. It was like being in a burial vault. He thought he could hear footsteps approaching and drew his pistol, but nobody appeared. He took a few deep breaths and forced himself to think. He was close to panic and felt that he would lose his self-control at any moment. Another fourteen minutes and he was due to contact Höglund. But he did not have to wait, he could call her now and ask her to phone Björk. Ström was dead, shot through the head, and nothing was going to bring him back to life. They should call a full-scale emergency, Wallander would be waiting for them at the gates, and what would happen after that he had no idea.