“Is it broken?” he asked.
“We’re not letting anyone make any withdrawals right now.”
“I’ll have to go across town, then.”
“Unfortunately that won’t be possible, either.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s only a temporary malfunction.”
“And they called in the police for that?”
Wallander didn’t answer. The man got back into his car and drove away. Wallander knew he would be able to keep warding people off with the explanation of a temporary malfunction, but he was already dreading the moment when it got out into the public. How had he thought it would work? Lisa Holgersson would put a stop to it the moment she found out. Their reasons were still mere speculation. He would not be able to do anything, and Martinsson would have more grist for his mill.
Then he caught sight of a man walking across the parking lot. It was a young man. He had emerged from behind the pickup truck, and he came walking toward Wallander. It took a few seconds for him to realize who it was. Robert Modin. Wallander was frozen to the spot. He held his breath. He did not understand. Suddenly Modin stopped and turned his back to Wallander, who sensed instinctively what was about to happen. He threw himself to the side. The man behind him had come from the direction of the department stores. He was tall, thin, and suntanned and he was carrying a gun. He was ten meters away and there was nowhere for Wallander to run. Wallander closed his eyes. The feeling from the field returned. The bitter end. Here but no longer. He waited for the shot that didn’t come. Slowly he opened his eyes. The man had the gun pointed directly at him, but he was looking down at his watch. The time, Wallander thought. It’s time. I was right. I still don’t know what is going to happen but I was right.
The man gestured for Wallander to come closer and to put his arms in the air. He pulled out Wallander’s gun and threw it into a garbage can next to the cash machine. Then he held out a plastic card in his left hand and said some numbers in broken Swedish.
“One, five, five, one.”
He dropped the card on the pavement and pointed at it with his gun. Wallander picked it up. The man took a few steps to the side and looked down at his watch. Then he pointed to the bank machine. His movements were more violent now. For the first time the man looked nervous. Wallander walked up to the machine. When he turned slightly he could see Modin still standing in the spot where he had stopped. Right now Wallander didn’t care what would happen when he put the card in and entered the numbers. Modin was alive. That was all that was important. But how could he continue to protect him? Wallander was searching for a way out. If he tried to attack the man behind him he would immediately be shot. Modin would probably not have time to run away. Wallander fed the card into the machine. At the same time a shot rang out. A bullet hit the ground nearby and whined away. The man spun around. Wallander turned and saw Martinsson about thirty meters away on the other side of the street. As the man aimed at Martinsson, Wallander leaped at the garbage can and pulled his gun out of the trash. The man shot at Martinsson but missed. As he turned back around, Wallander shot him in the chest and he collapsed.
“What’s happening?” Martinsson yelled.
“It’s safe to come over,” Wallander yelled back.
The man on the pavement was dead.
“What made you come here?” Wallander asked Martinsson.
“If your hypothesis was right, it had to be here,” Martinsson answered. “It makes sense that Falk would have chosen the bank machine closest to his house and that he always went past on his evening walks. I asked Nyberg to keep an eye on the cash machine downtown where I was.”
Martinsson pointed at the dead man.
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know. But I think his name starts with the letter ‘C.’”
“Is everything over now?”
“Maybe. I think so. But I don’t even know what it is that’s over.”
Wallander should have thanked Martinsson, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he walked over to Modin, who was still standing in the same spot. There would be time enough for him and Martinsson to talk later.
Robert Modin’s eyes were filled with tears.
“He told me to walk over to you. He said otherwise he would kill my mother and father.”
“We’ll talk about all that later,” Wallander said. “How are you feeling?”
“He told me to say I had to stay and finish my work in Malmö. Then he shot her. And we left. I was in the trunk and could hardly breathe. But we were right.”
“Yes,” Wallander said. “We were right.”
“Did you find my notes?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t start taking it seriously until much later. A cash machine. A place where people come to take out their money.”
“You should have said something,” Wallander said. “But maybe I should have thought of it myself. We knew it had something to do with money, after all. It should have been an obvious choice to hide something like that.”
“An ATM as the launching pad for their virus-bomb,” Modin said. “It has a certain finesse, don’t you think?”
Wallander looked at the boy by his side. How much longer could he handle the strain? Suddenly he was hit by the feeling of having stood like this before with a young boy at his side. Then he realized he was thinking of Stefan Fredman. The young boy who was now dead and buried.
“What was it that happened?” Wallander asked. “Do you think you can tell me?”
Modin nodded.
“He was already there when she let me in. And he threatened me. They locked me in the bathroom. Then I heard him start screaming at her. I could understand him since he was speaking English. At least the parts I could hear.”
“What did he say?”
“That she hadn’t done her job. That she had shown weakness.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“Only the shots. When he came to unlock the bathroom door I thought he was going to kill me as well. He had the gun in his hand. But he said I was his hostage and that I had to do as he said. Otherwise he would kill my parents.”
Modin’s voice started to wobble.
“We’ll talk about the rest later,” Wallander said. “That’s enough. That’s plenty, in fact.”
“He said they were going to knock out the global financial system. It was going to start here, at this cash machine.”
“I know,” Wallander said. “But we’ll talk about that later. You need to sleep. You have to go home to your parents now. Then we’ll talk.”
They heard sirens approaching. Now Wallander could see a dark blue Volkswagen Golf parked behind the pickup. It had been impossible to see from where he was standing.
Wallander felt how exhausted he was. And how relieved. Martinsson came walking over.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“I know,” Wallander said. “But not now.”
It was nine minutes to six on the Monday, the twentieth of October. Wallander wondered absently what the rest of the winter was going to be like.
Chapter Forty
On Tuesday, the eleventh of November, all charges against Wallander in the Eva Persson assault case were dismissed. Höglund was the one who told him the news. She had also played a central role in the direction the investigation had taken, but he only found that out later.
A few days before, Höglund had paid a visit to Eva Persson and her mother. No one knew exactly what was said during that visit; there had been no transcription of the conversation and no third party present, although these had been court-ordered. Höglund did tell Wallander that she applied “a mild form of emotional blackmail.” What that entailed she never told him, but in time Wallander was able to put together a clearer picture. He assumed that she had told Eva Persson to turn her thoughts to the future. Even if she was now cleared in the murder of Lundberg, bringing false charges against a policeman could have unpleasant consequences. The following day Eva Persson and her mother withdrew the charges against Wallander. They acknowledged that Wallander’s version of the events had been correct, and that Eva Persson had tried to hit her mother. Wallander could still have been held accountable for his actions in the situation, but the whole matter was hastily dropped, much to everyone’s relief.