“What on earth has happened?” Björk said.
“There’s something I must say before we go into the meeting,” Wallander said, and realized his voice sounded hesitant.
“Don’t tell me you’ve decided to resign again,” Björk said, looking worried.
“No,” Wallander said. “I have to know why you called Farnholm Castle and warned them that the Ystad police were going to contact them in connection with the murder investigation. I have to know why you didn’t tell me or the others that you had called.”
Wallander could see Björk was offended and annoyed.
“Alfred Harderberg is an important man in our society,” Björk said. “He’s not suspected of any criminal activity. It was purely politeness on my part. May I ask how you know about the phone call?”
“They were too well prepared when I got there.”
“I don’t see that as being negative,” Björk said. “Given the circumstances.”
“But it was inappropriate even so,” Wallander said. “Inappropriate in more ways than one. And besides, this kind of thing can create unrest in the investigation team. We have to be absolutely frank with one another.”
“I have to say that I find it difficult being lectured by you—of all people—on frankness,” Björk said, no longer hiding the fact that he was furious.
“My shortcomings are no excuse for others acting in that way,” Wallander said. “Not my superior in any case.”
Björk rose to his feet. “I will not allow myself to be addressed in that manner,” he said, getting red in the face. “It was pure politeness, nothing more. In the circumstances, a routine conversation. It couldn’t have had any adverse effect.”
“Those circumstances no longer apply,” Wallander said, realizing he was not going to get any further. The important thing now was to explain to Björk as quickly as possible how the whole situation had changed.
Björk was staring at him, still on his feet. “Express yourself more clearly,” he said. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Information has come to light suggesting that Alfred Harderberg could be behind everything that’s happened,” Wallander said. “That would of course imply that the circumstances have changed quite dramatically.”
Björk sat down again, incredulous. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that we have reason to believe that Harderberg is directly or indirectly mixed up in the murder of the two lawyers. And the attempted murder of Mrs. Dunér. And the destruction of my car.”
Björk stared at him in disbelief. “Am I really expected to take that seriously?”
“Yes, you are,” Wallander said. “Åkeson does.”
Wallander gave Björk a brisk summary of what had happened. When he had finished, Björk sat looking at his hands before responding.
“It would be very unpleasant, of course, if this were to turn out to be true,” he said in the end.
“Murder and explosions are certainly unpleasant things,” Wallander said.
“We must be very, very careful,” Björk said, apparently ignoring Wallander’s comment. “We can’t accept anything short of conclusive proof before we consider making a move.”
“We don’t normally do that,” Wallander said. “Why should this case be any different?”
“I have no doubt at all that this will turn out to be a dead end,” Björk said, getting to his feet to indicate that the conversation was over.
“That is a possibility,” Wallander said. “So is the opposite.”
It was 8:10 when he left Björk’s office. He fetched a cup of coffee and dropped by Höglund’s office, but she had not yet arrived. He went to his office to telephone Waldemar Kåge, the taxi driver in Simrishamn. He got through to him on his cell phone and explained what it was about. He made a note that he should send Kåge a check for 230 kronor. He wondered if he should phone the haulage contractor his father had punched and try to persuade him not to take the case to court, but decided against it. The meeting was due to start at 8:30. He needed to concentrate until then.
He stood at the window. It was a gray day, very cold and damp. Late autumn already, winter just around the corner. I’m here, he thought: I wonder where Harderberg is right now. At Farnholm Castle? Or 30,000 feet up, in his Gulfstream, on the way to and from some intricate negotiation? What had Gustaf Torstensson and Borman discovered? What had really happened? What if Höglund and I are right, if two police officers of different generations, each with their own view of what the world is like, have come to the same conclusion? A conclusion that might even lead us to the truth?
Wallander came into the conference room at 8:30. Björk was already at the short end of the table, Åkeson was standing by the window, looking out, and Martinsson and Svedberg were deep in conversation about what sounded to Wallander like salaries. Höglund was in her usual place opposite Björk at the other short end of the table. Neither Martinsson nor Svedberg seemed to be worried by Åkeson being there.
Wallander said good morning to Höglund. “How do you think this is going to go?” he asked softly.
“When I woke up I thought I must have dreamed it all,” she said. “Have you spoken yet to Björk and Åkeson?”
“Åkeson knows most of what happened,” he said. “I only had time to give Björk the short version.”
“What did Åkeson say?”
“He’ll go along with us.”
Björk tapped on the table with a pencil and those who were still standing sat down.
“All I have to say is that Kurt is going to do the talking,” Björk said. “Unless I am very much mistaken, it looks as though there might have been a dramatic development.”
Wallander wondered what to say, his mind a sudden blank. Then he found the thread and began. He went through in detail what Höglund’s colleague in Eskilstuna had been able to enlighten them about, and he set out the ideas that had developed in the early hours of the morning, about how they should proceed without waking the sleeping bear. When he had finished—and his account lasted twenty-five minutes—he asked Höglund if she had anything to add, but she shook her head: Wallander had said all there was to say.
“So, that’s as far as we’ve gotten,” Wallander said. “Because this means that we have no choice but to reassess our priorities for the investigation, we have Per here with us. Another consideration is whether we need to call in outside help at this stage. It’s going to be a very tricky and in many ways a laborious process, penetrating Harderberg’s world, especially since we can’t afford to let him notice how interested in him we are.”
Wallander was not sure whether he had succeeded in getting across all the things he had wanted to. Höglund smiled and nodded at him, but when he studied the other faces around the table he still could not tell.
“This really is something for us to get our teeth into,” Åkeson said when the silence had lasted long enough. “We must be clear about the fact that Alfred Harderberg has an impeccable reputation in the Swedish business community. We can expect nothing but hostility if we start questioning that reputation. On the other hand, I have to say there are sufficient grounds for us to start taking a special interest in him. Naturally, I find it difficult to believe that Harderberg was personally involved in the murders or the other events, and of course it might be that things happen in his setup over which he has no control.”
“I’ve always dreamed of putting one of those gentlemen away,” Svedberg suddenly said.
“A totally regrettable attitude in a police officer,” Björk said, unable to control his displeasure. “It shouldn’t be necessary for me to remind you all of our status as neutral civil servants—”
“Let’s stick to the point,” Åkeson interrupted. “And perhaps we should also remind ourselves that in our role as servants of the law we are paid to be suspicious in circumstances in which normally we would not need to be.”