"How can we fight something we can't understand?"
"I really don't know," Wallander said. "But we have to do our best."
The brief conversation died out. Martinsson's cheerful laughter echoed down the corridor.
She rose to her feet. "I won't disturb you any longer," she said.
"I'm sorry I couldn't give you a better answer," he said, opening the door.
"At least you were honest," she said.
It occurred to Wallander that he had something to give her. He went to his desk and took the postcard with a picture of a Finnish landscape from one of the drawers.
"I promised to give you this back," he said. "We don't need it any longer."
"I'd forgotten all about it," she said, putting it into her handbag.
He escorted her out of the police station.
"May I wish you a merry Christmas," she said.
"Thank you," Wallander said. "And the same to you. I'll take good care of the icon."
He went back to his office. Her visit had made him uneasy. He had been reminded of the melancholy he had had to live with for so long. But he thrust it to one side, took his jacket and left the building. He was on holiday. Not just from his job, but from any thought that might depress him.
I may not deserve the icon, he thought, but I do deserve a few days off.
He drove home through the fog and parked.
Then he cleaned his flat. Before going to bed he improvised something to stand the Christmas tree in, and decorated it. He had hung the icon up in his bedroom. He studied it before putting the light out.
He wondered if it would be able to protect him.
The next day was Christmas Eve, the big day in Sweden. It was still foggy and grey outside. But Wallander felt that today he could rise above all the greyness.
He drove to Sturup airport at 2 p.m., despite the fact that the plane was not due until 3.30. He felt most uncomfortable as he parked his car and approached the yellow airport building. He had the feeling everybody was looking at him.
Nevertheless, he couldn't resist walking over to the gates to the right of the terminal.
The Gulfstream was no longer there. There was no sign of it.
It's all over, he thought. I'm putting a full stop behind it, here and now.
His relief was immediate.
The image of the smiling man faded away.
He went into the departure lounge, then out again, feeling more nervous than he could remember at any time since he was a teenager. He counted the paving stones in the entrance, rehearsed his inadequate English, and tried in vain to think about anything but what was about to happen.
When the plane landed he was still standing outside the terminal. Then he hurried inside and positioned himself next to the newspaper stand, waiting.
She was one of the last to emerge.
But there she was. Baiba Liepa.
She was exactly as he remembered her.
Also available
HENNING MANKELL
Before The Frost
A Linda Wallander Mystery
'Mankell is by far the best writer of police mysteries today'
Michael Ondaatje
In woodland outside Ystad, the police make a horrific discovery: a severed head, and hands locked together in an attitude of prayer. A Bible lies at the victim's side, the pages marked with scribbled annotations. A string of macabre incidents, including attacks on domestic animals, have been taking place, and Inspector Wallander fears that these disturbances could be the prelude to attacks on humans on an even more alarming scale.
Linda Wallander, in preparation to join the police force, arrives at Ystad. Exhibiting some of the hallmarks of her father - the maverick approach, the flaring temper - she becomes entangled in a case involving a group of religious extremists who are bent on punishing the world's sinners.
Following on from the enormous success of the Kurt Wallander
mysteries, Henning Mankell has begun an outstanding new chapter in crime writing.
'Mankell is one of the most ingenious crime writers around.
Highly recommended'
Observer