Then he left the apartment. He left the car at home and walked. It had stopped raining and the wind had also died down. Deep inside Wallander felt a twinge of disappointment over the fact that she had decided to take the car and not the train. He wondered if she had been afraid of missing the last train and being stuck in an awkward situation with him. But there was no point in speculating. He concentrated on the fact that for once he was going to have the pleasure of dining with a beautiful woman.
He stopped outside the bookstore on the main square and waited. After about five minutes he saw her come walking along Hamngatan. He felt suddenly shy, and was baffled by her directness. While they were walking up Norregatan to the restaurant, he felt her take his arm. It was just as they were passing the building where Svedberg had lived. Wallander stopped and told her about what had happened there that time. She listened attentively.
“How do you think about it now?” she asked when he had finished.
“I don’t know. Like a bad dream. Something I’m not convinced actually happened.”
The restaurant was small and had only been open about a year. Wallander had never been there, but Linda had recommended it. Wallander had been expecting it to be full, but only a few tables were taken.
“Ystad is hardly a bustling metropolis,” he said as an excuse. “But the food is supposed to be good.”
A waitress that Wallander recognized from the Continental Hotel showed them to their table.
“You took the car,” Wallander said as he studied the wine list.
“Yes, I’m planning to drive back after we’re done.”
“Then I’ll be having the wine today.”
“What do the police say about blood alcohol levels?”
“That it’s best not to have any alcohol at all if you’re planning to drive. But I think one glass is fine with a meal. If you like we can go up to the station after dinner and give you a sobriety test.”
The food was excellent. Wallander finished his first glass of wine and pretended to hesitate before ordering another. The conversation so far had been mainly about his work. For once he was enjoying it. He told her how he had been a rookie cop in Malmö and almost been stabbed to death. She asked him about the cases he was currently involved in and he became more and more convinced she knew nothing about the picture in the paper. He told her about the strange death at the power substation, the man who had been found outside the ATM, and the boy who had been thrown between the propeller axles on the ferry from Poland.
They had just ordered coffee when the door to the restaurant opened.
Robert Modin walked in.
Wallander spotted him immediately. When Modin saw that Wallander was not alone he seemed to hesitate, but Wallander gestured for him to come over. He introduced Modin to Elvira. Wallander saw that he looked worried. He wondered what had happened.
“I think I’ve found something,” Modin said.
“If you would like to speak privately, I can leave,” Elvira said.
“There’s no need.”
“I asked my dad to drive me out from Löderup,” Modin said. “I found out where you were from your answering machine.”
“You said you thought you had something?”
“It’s hard to explain without the computer in front of me, but I think I’ve managed to crack the last codes.”
Modin looked sure of himself.
“Call Martinsson tomorrow,” Wallander said. “I’ll inform him in advance of this development.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m right.”
“There was no need for you to come out here in person,” Wallander said. “You could have called me.”
“I get a little carried away sometimes.”
Modin nodded nervously in Elvira’s direction. Wallander thought he should ask him more closely about the new breakthrough, but decided it could wait until the next day. He wanted to be left alone right now. Modin understood. He walked out again. The conversation had taken two minutes.
“He’s a very talented young man,” Wallander said as he left. “He’s a computer whiz and he’s helping us with part of our investigation.”
Elvira smiled.
“He seemed like a nervous type. But I’m sure he’s very good at what he does.”
They left the restaurant around midnight and walked slowly back toward the main square. Her car was parked on Hamngatan.
“I’ve had a wonderful time,” she said when they said good-bye.
“You’re not tired of me yet?”
“No. What about you?”
Wallander wanted her to stay longer, but realized he had to let her go. They said they would talk again over the weekend.
He gave her a hug. She left. Wallander walked home. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of the street. Is it possible? he thought. Have I really met someone?
He continued on to Mariagatan and fell asleep shortly after one o’clock.
Elvira Lindfeldt drove to Malmö through the darkness. Shortly before Rydsgard she pulled into a parking lot by the side of the highway. She got out her cell phone.
The number she dialed was registered to a person in Luanda.
She tried three times before she was put through. It was not a good connection. When Carter answered, she got right to the point.
“Fu Cheng was right. The person who is killing our system is named Robert Modin. He lives in a village outside Ystad called Löderup.”
She repeated her statement twice, and then she was sure that he had understood what she had said.
The connection was broken.
Elvira swung back onto the highway and continued on to Malmö.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Wallander called Linda on Saturday morning.
He had woken up at dawn but had managed to fall back to sleep and not get up until shortly after eight. When he had finished breakfast he called her apartment in Stockholm. He woke her up. She immediately asked him why he hadn’t been at home the evening before. She had tried to call the number he had left on the answering machine twice but it had been busy both times. Wallander decided to tell her the truth. She listened without interrupting him.
“I never would have thought it,” she said when he was done. “I would never have thought you had enough brains in your head to follow my advice for once.”
“I had my doubts.”
“But not anymore?”
She asked about Elvira Lindfeldt and they talked for a long time. She was very happy for him, though he kept trying to play it down. It was too early, in his opinion. For now it was enough not to have spent another Friday night alone.
“That’s not true,” she objected. “I know you. You’re hoping this is going to turn out to be the real thing. So do I.”
Then she changed the subject.
“I want you to know that I saw that picture in the paper. It was a bit of a shock. Someone at the restaurant showed it to me and asked if that was my dad.”
“What did you say?”
“I thought about saying no, but I didn’t.”
“That was nice of you.”
“I just decided it couldn’t be true.”
“It’s not.”
He told her what had actually happened, and about the internal investigation that was underway. He told her he was confident the truth would come out.
“It’s important for me to hear this right now,” she said.