“I’m busy filling in some cracks in the foundations,” Ström said. “What do you want?”
Wallander could see Ström was on his guard.
“I’ve got something to ask you about,” he said. “Maybe you can shut the dogs up.”
Ström shouted at the dogs and at once they fell silent.
“Let’s go inside,” he said.
“No need,” Wallander said. “We can stay here. It’ll only take a minute.” He looked around the little garden. “A nice place you’ve got here. A bit different from an apartment in the middle of Malmö.”
“It was OK there as well, but this is closer to work.”
“It looks as though you live by yourself here. I thought you were married?”
Ström glared at him with eyes of steel. “What does my private life have to do with you?”
Wallander opened wide his arms in apology. “Nothing,” he said. “But you know how it is with former colleagues. You ask after the family.”
“I’m not your colleague,” Ström said.
“But you used to be, didn’t you?”
Wallander had changed his tone. He was looking for a confrontation. He knew that toughness was the only thing Ström had any respect for.
“I don’t suppose you’ve come here to discuss my family.”
Wallander smiled at him. “That’s right,” he said. “I haven’t. I only reminded you that we used to be colleagues out of politeness.”
Ström had turned ashen. For a brief moment Wallander thought he had gone too far, and that Ström would take a swing at him.
“Forget it,” Wallander said. “Let’s talk about something else. October 11. A Monday evening. Six weeks ago. You know the evening I mean?”
Ström nodded, but said nothing.
“I really only have one question,” Wallander said. “But let’s get an important thing out of the way first. I’m not going to let you get away with not answering on the grounds that you’d be breaking the security rules of Farnholm Castle. If you try that, I’ll make life so hellish for you, you’ll wonder what hit you.”
“You can’t do anything to me,” Ström said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Wallander said. “I could arrest you and take you to Ystad with me, or I could phone the castle ten times a day and ask to speak to Kurt Ström. They would soon get the feeling that the police were far too interested in their head of security. I wonder if they know about your past? That could be embarrassing for them. I doubt if Dr. Harderberg would be pleased if the peace and quiet of Farnholm Castle were to be disturbed.”
“Go to hell!” Ström said. “Get on the other side of that gate before I throw you out.”
“I only want the answer to one question, about the night of October 11,” Wallander said, unconcerned. “And I can assure you it won’t go any further. Is it really worth risking the new life you lead? As I recall, when we met at the castle gates you said you were very happy with it.”
Wallander could see that Ström was wavering. His eyes were still full of hatred, but Wallander knew he would get an answer.
“One question,” he said. “One answer. But a truthful one. Then I’ll be gone. You can finish with your repairs and forget I was ever here. And you can continue guarding the gates of Farnholm Castle till the day you die. Just one question and one answer.”
An airplane flew past high above their heads. Wallander wondered if it was Alfred Harderberg’s Gulfstream on its way back from New York already.
“What do you want to know?”
“That evening of October 11,” Wallander said. “Gustaf Torstensson left the castle at 8:14 p.m. according to the printout of the gate checks I’ve seen. That could be forged, of course, but let’s assume it’s correct. We do know he did leave Farnholm Castle, after all. My question to you, Kurt Ström, is very simple. Did a car leave Farnholm Castle after Mr. Torstensson arrived but before he left?”
Ström said nothing, but then he nodded slowly.
“That was the first part of the question,” Wallander said. “Now comes the second part of the same question. Who was it who left the castle?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you saw a car?”
“I’ve already answered more than one question.”
“Quit the bullshit, Ström. It’s the same question. What make of car was it? And who was in it?”
“It was one of the cars that belong to the castle. A BMW.”
“Who was in it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your life will turn extremely unpleasant if you don’t answer!”
Wallander discovered that he did not need to pretend to be furious. He was already furious.
“I honestly don’t know who was in the car.”
Wallander could see that Ström was telling the truth. He should have realized.
“Because the windows were tinted,” Wallander said. “So you can’t see who’s inside. Is that right?”
Ström nodded. “You’ve got your answer,” he said. “Now get the hell out of here.”
“Always a pleasure to bump into former colleagues,” Wallander said. “And you’re absolutely right, it is time I left. Nice talking to you.”
The dogs started barking as soon as he turned his back. As he drove off Ström was still standing in the doorway, watching him go. Wallander could feel the sweat inside his shirt. He remembered that Ström could be violent.
But he had gotten a plausible answer to a question that had been troubling him. The starting point for what happened that October night when Gustaf Torstensson died, alone in his car. He had a good idea now how it had occurred. While Torstensson sat back in one of the sumptuous leather armchairs chatting to Harderberg and the Italian bankers, a car had left Farnholm Castle to lie in wait for the old man as he drove home. Somehow, by a display of force or cunning or convincing friendliness, they had gotten him to stop his car on that remote, carefully chosen stretch of road. Wallander had no idea if the decision to prevent Torstensson from reaching home had been made that same night or earlier, but at least he could now see the makings of an explanation.
He thought about the men lurking in the shadows in the entrance hall. Then he shuddered as he thought about what had happened the previous night.
Without realizing it, he pressed harder on the accelerator. By the time he came to Sandskogen he was going so fast that if he had been stopped he would have had his license suspended on the spot. He slowed down. When he reached Ystad he stopped at Fridolf’s Café and had a cup of coffee. He knew what advice Rydberg would have given him.
Patience, he would have said. When stones start rolling down a slope, it’s important not to start running after them right away. Stay where you are and watch them rolling, see where they come to a stop. That’s what he would have said.
And he would have been right, Wallander thought. That’s how we’re going to proceed.
In the days to come Wallander had evidence once more of how he was surrounded by colleagues who did not stint on effort when it was really needed. They had already been working intensively, but nobody protested when Wallander announced that they were going to have to work even harder. It had started that Wednesday afternoon when Wallander called the team to the conference room; Åkeson attended despite his diarrhea and high temperature. They all agreed that Harderberg’s business empire should be unraveled and mapped out with the greatest possible speed. While the meeting was in progress Åkeson contacted the fraud squads in Malmö and Stockholm. The others present listened in admiration as he described how the need for them to work harder and give the job the highest priority was more or less essential if the country were to survive. When he hung up, the meeting burst into spontaneous applause.