“He had one of the cabins next to Landahl,” Martinsson continued.
“The walls were thin, so he heard him but never saw him. Larsen was tired and slept most of the way from Poland.”
“What was it he heard?”
“Voices, but nothing indicating any trouble or tumult. He couldn’t say exactly how many people he thought there were.”
“People don’t usually talk to themselves,” Wallander said. “It seems reasonable to assume there was at least one other person there.”
“I asked him to be in touch if he thought of anything else.”
Martinsson left. Wallander sat down carefully on the portable chair. Modin kept working. Wallander realized the futility in asking more questions. This new age of electronic developments would eventually require a whole new type of police officer. As usual, criminals were way ahead of the game.
Modin hit the RETURN button and leaned back in his chair. The modem next to the monitor started blinking.
“What are you doing now?” Wallander asked.
“I’m sending an e-mail to see where it ends up. But I’m sending it from my own computer.”
“But weren’t you using the keyboard for Falk’s computer?”
“I’ve connected them.”
Modin jumped and leaned in toward the monitor. Then he started typing again. Wallander waited.
Suddenly everything on the screen went blank. Then the numbers came back. Modin furrowed his brow.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know exactly. But I was denied access. I have to cover my tracks. It’ll take a couple of minutes.”
The typing continued. Wallander was starting to get impatient.
“One more time,” Modin mumbled.
Then something happened that made Modin jump again. He stared at the screen for a long time.
“The World Bank,” he said finally.
“What do you mean?”
“One of the institutions Falk has access to is the World Bank. If I’m right, the code here is for a branch that deals with global finance inspections.”
“The Pentagon and the World Bank,” Wallander said. “That’s not exactly the corner store.”
“I think it’s time I had a little conference with my friends,” Modin said. “I’ve asked them to be on alert.”
“Where are they?”
“One lives in Rattvik, the other one in California.”
Wallander realized it was high time he contacted the National Police cybercrime division. He started imagining uncomfortable situations ahead. He didn’t entertain any illusions regarding his actions: he would be strongly criticized for his decision to turn to Modin, even though Modin had turned out to be highly adept.
While Modin was communicating with his friends, Wallander paced around the room. He was thinking about the case, but his thoughts kept returning to the feeling that his colleagues mistrusted him. Perhaps this was a problem that extended beyond the incident with Eva Persson; perhaps they thought he was over the hill? Did they think it was time for Martinsson to take charge?
He was hurt and full of self-pity. But anger also pounded in his veins. He wasn’t going to go without a fight. He had no exotic place waiting where he could start a new life. He had no stud ranch to sell. All he had to look forward to was a state pension, and a meager one at that.
The typing behind him had stopped. Modin got up from his chair and stretched.
“I’m hungry,” he said.
“What did your friends say?”
“We’re taking an hour to think. Then we’re going to talk again.”
Wallander was also hungry. He suggested they go get a pizza. Modin seemed almost insulted by the suggestion.
“I never eat pizza,” he said. “It’s not healthy.”
“What do you eat?”
“Sprouts.”
“Nothing else?”
“Egg and vinegar is good.”
Wallander wondered if there was any restaurant, let alone in Ystad, that sported the kind of menu likely to appeal to Robert Modin. He doubted it.
Modin looked through the plastic bags filled with food that he had brought with him, but there seemed to be nothing that caught his fancy.
“A plain salad will do,” he said.
They left the building. Wallander asked Modin if he wanted them to drive, but Modin preferred to walk.
They went to the only salad bar Wallander knew of in Ystad. Wallander ate heartily, but Modin scrutinized every lettuce leaf and vegetable before putting it in his mouth. Wallander had never seen a person who chewed so slowly. He tried conversing with Modin, but the latter only answered in monosyllables. After a while, Wallander realized he was still obsessed with the figures and patterns in Falk’s computer.
They were back at Runnerström Square shortly before seven. Martinsson was still gone. Modin sat down at the computer to reconnect with his friends. Wallander imagined they looked exactly like the young man beside him.
“No one has managed to trace me,” Modin said after he had performed some complicated operations on the computer.
“How can you see that?”
“I just see it.”
Wallander shifted on the folding chair. It really is like being on a hunting trip, he thought. We’re hunting electronic elk. We know they’re out there. But we don’t know what direction they’re going to come from.
Wallander’s cell phone rang. Modin flinched.
“I hate cell phones,” he said with distaste.
Wallander walked out onto the staircase. It was Höglund. Wallander told her where he was and what they had managed to extract from Falk’s computer.
“The World Bank and the Pentagon,” she said, “They must be two of the world’s most powerful institutions.”
“We still don’t know what all this means,” Wallander said. “But why are you calling?”
“I decided I needed to talk to that guy Ryss again. After all, he was the person who led us to Landahl, and I’m becoming more and more convinced that Eva Persson actually knew very little about the friend she seems to have worshipped. In any case, we know she’s lying.”
“What did he say? His name is Kalle, isn’t it?”
“Kalle Ryss. I wanted to ask him why he and Sonja broke up. I don’t think he was expecting that question, and he clearly didn’t want to answer it, but I wouldn’t back down. And then he said something interesting. He said he broke up with her because she was never interested.”
“Interested in what?”
“In sex, of course.”
“He told you this?”
“Once he started, the whole story came pouring out of him. He fell in love with her from the moment he first saw her, but after they started dating it became clear that she had no interest in sex. Finally he grew tired of it. But it’s the reason for her lack of interest that’s important.”
“What was it?”
“Sonja had told him that she was raped a few years ago. She was still traumatized by that experience.”
“Sonja Hökberg was raped?”
“According to him she was. I started checking our files but didn’t find any case involving Sonja.”
“And it happened in Ystad?”
“Yes. So I started putting two and two together.”
Wallander saw where she was heading.
“Lundberg’s son. Carl-Einar?”
“Exactly. It’s just a theory, but I think it has its merits.”
“What do you think happened?”
“This is what I was thinking: Carl-Einar Lundberg has been implicated in a brutal rape case. He’s acquitted, but there were several facts that pointed to his being the perpetrator. In which case, he could have committed an earlier rape. But Sonja never went to the police.”
“Why not?”
“There are many reasons why a woman wouldn’t go to the police in such a case. You should know that.”