Henning Mankell - The Troubled Man

“Why would I? Håkan 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 U.S.A.?”

“Critical in many ways. I remember him saying once that the U.S.A. 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.”

“Rumors 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 rumors correctly they suggested there was a spy who was in many ways more dangerous than Wennerström.”

“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 rumor,” he continued. “Or rather, there is a rumor 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 Håkan 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 realized the significance of what he had just heard.

“It can’t be possible.”

“It not only can be , it is possible.”

“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 purse. 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?”

Nordlander froze, beer glass in hand.

“Is Håkan involved in this as well? Did they operate as a pair?”

“That’s hardly credible.”

Nordlander slammed his glass down on the table.

“Do you know or don’t you? Why don’t you tell me straight?”

“There’s nothing to suggest that Håkan cooperated with Louise.”

“Then why is he hiding himself away?”

“Because he suspected her. He was on her trail for many years. In the end he began to fear for his own life. He thought Louise realized that he suspected her, and that meant there was a significant risk that he might be murdered.”

“But Louise is the one who’s dead.”

“Don’t forget that when her body was found, Håkan had already been missing for a long time.”

Wallander watched a new Sten Nordlander emerging. He was normally energetic and straightforward, but now he seemed to be shrinking. The confusion he felt was changing him.

There was a minor commotion at a neighboring table: a drunken man fell over and knocked down several bottles and glasses. A security officer came hurrying up, and calm was soon restored. Wallander drank his tea. Sten Nordlander had stood up and walked over to the fence. He gazed down at the city stretching out before him. When he returned, Wallander said, “I need your help to persuade Håkan to return.”

“What can I do?”

“You’re his best friend. I want you to come with me on a trip. I’ll tell you where tomorrow. Can we use your car? Can you leave your boat for twenty-four hours or so?”

“No problem.”

“Pick me up at three o’clock tomorrow outside the hotel. Dress for rain. I have to go now.”

He didn’t let Nordlander ask any questions. He didn’t look around as he walked back to the hotel. He still wasn’t absolutely certain that he could rely on Sten Nordlander, but he had made his choice and there was no going back now.

That night he lay awake for hours, tossing and turning between the damp sheets. In his dream he saw Baiba hovering over the ground, her face completely transparent.

He left the hotel early the next morning and took a taxi out to Djurgården, where he lay down under a tree and slept for a while. He used his bag containing the shotgun as a pillow. When he woke up, he strolled back through town to the hotel. He was waiting there when Sten Nordlander drove up to the entrance. Wallander put his bag in the backseat.

“Where are we going?”

“South.”

“Far?”

“A hundred and twenty miles or so, maybe a bit more. But there’s no hurry.”

They drove out of Stockholm and set out on the highway.

“What’s in store for us?” Nordlander asked.

“You’ll just have to listen to a conversation, that’s all.”

Nordlander asked no questions. Does he know where we’re going? Wallander wondered. Is he only pretending to be surprised? Wallander wasn’t sure. Deep down, of course, there was a reason why he had taken his guns with him. I brought them because I can’t be sure that I won’t have to defend myself, he thought. I just hope it won’t be necessary.

They reached the harbor at about ten o’clock. Wallander had insisted on a long stop in Söderköping, where they ate dinner. They sat in silence, contemplating the river that flowed through the town and admiring all the plants and bushes coming into bloom on its banks. The boat Wallander had reserved was waiting for them in the inner dock.

By about eleven they were approaching their destination. Wallander switched off the engine and allowed the boat to drift in to land. He listened. Not a sound to be heard. Sten Nordlander’s face was almost invisible in the darkness.

Then they stepped ashore.

They moved cautiously through the late-summer darkness. Wallander had whispered to Nordlander that he should stay close to him, without giving any explanation. The moment they arrived at the island, Wallander felt quite certain that Sten Nordlander didn’t know anything about Håkan von Enke’s hideaway. It would have been impossible for anybody to conceal so skillfully any knowledge about where they might find the man they were looking for.

Wallander paused when he saw the light from one of the windows in the hunting lodge. He could also hear the sound of music above the sighing of the waves. It took several seconds before he realized that a window was open. He turned to Sten Nordlander and whispered, “You find it hard to believe that Louise von Enke was a spy?”

“Do you find that odd?”

“Not at all.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but I refuse to believe that it’s true.”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Wallander slowly. “What I’m telling you is what they want us to believe.”

Nordlander shook his head.

“Now you’ve lost me.”

“There were items in Louise’s purse indicating that she was a spy. But those things could have been planted there after she was dead. Whoever killed her also tried to make it look like a suicide. When I met Håkan here on the island he told me in minute detail how he had suspected for many years that Louise was a spy. It sounded very convincing. But then I began to understand what I had overlooked earlier. You might say that I held up a mirror and observed all the events in reverse.”