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"I'd rather not have to wear the hood on the way back," Wallander said. "It makes me itchy."
"Of course," Upitis said. "You must realise, though, that it is also in your interests to be cautious."
It was moonlit and cold as they drove back to Riga. Through the car windows Wallander could see the silhouettes of dark villages flashing by. They continued through the suburbs, in the shadow of countless tower blocks and unlit streets.
Wallander got out of the car in the same place as he'd clambered in. Upitis had told him to use the hotel's back entrance. When he tried the door, he found it was locked. He was wondering what to do next when he heard the door being unlocked carefully from the inside. To his surprise he recognised the man who had opened the door to the hotel's nightclub a few days earlier. Wallander followed him up a fire escape and was accompanied until he'd opened the door of room 1506. It was just after 2 a.m.
The room was freezing. He poured whisky into his tooth mug, wrapped himself in a blanket and sat down at the desk. Although he was tired he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he'd written a summary of what had just happened. The pen felt cold in his hand. He pulled towards him the notes he'd made earlier, took a sip of whisky, and started to think.
Go back to the begi
But what did he know for certain, in fact? Two murdered Latvians drift ashore near Ystad in a life-raft manufactured in Yugoslavia. That was one starting point beyond question. A major from the Riga police force spends a few days in Ystad, in order to assist in the investigation. Wallander himself makes the inexcusable error of not examining the life-raft thoroughly enough. And then it is stolen. Stolen by whom? Major Liepa goes back to Riga. He submits a report to the two colonels, Putnis and Murniers. Then he goes home and shows his wife the book he'd been given by the Swedish police officer, Wallander. What does he discuss with his wife? What makes her turn to Upitis after having disguised herself as a hotel chambermaid? Why does she invent Mr Eckers?
Wallander emptied his glass and poured out some more whisky. The tips of his fingers were white, and he put his hands inside the blanket to warm them up.
Look for a co
Wallander read through what he had written, at the same time thinking about what Upitis had said, Major Liepa was onto something. But what? One of the monsters Upitis had spoken of? Deep in thought, he contemplated the curtains wafting gendy in the draught from the ill-fitting window. Somebody betrayed him. We suspect Colonel Murniers.
Could that be possible? Wallander's mind went back to the previous year, when a police officer in Malmö had shot down an asylum-seeking refugee in cold blood. Was there really any such thing as an impossibility?
He carried on writing. Dead men in life-raft – drugs -Major Liepa – Colonel Murniers. What did that chain indicate? What had Upitis wanted to know? Did he think Major Liepa had given something away that night, as he sat on my sofa listening to Maria Callas? Did he want to know what had been said? Or did he just want to know if Major Liepa had confided anything at all to me?
It was nearly 3.15 a.m. Wallander sensed he'd got about as far as he was going to get. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. In the mirror he saw that his face was still red and blotchy from the woollen hood.
What does Baiba Liepa know? What is it that I can't see?
He got undressed and flopped into bed after setting his alarm for just before 7 a.m., but he couldn't sleep. He looked at his watch: 3.45 a.m. He could see the hands of the alarm clock in the darkness: 3.35 a.m. He adjusted his pillow and shut his eyes. Suddenly he gave a start and looked at his watch again: 3.51 a.m. He stretched out his hand and switched on the bedside light. The alarm clock said 3.41 a.m. He sat up. Why was the alarm clock slow? Or was his wristwatch fast? Why the difference? It had never happened before. He picked up the alarm clock and adjusted the hands to show the same time as his wristwatch: 3.44 a.m. Then he switched off the light and closed his eyes. He was on the point of dozing off, he was jerked back into consciousness. He lay quite still in the darkness, telling himself it was all in his imagination. In the end, though, he switched the light on once more, sat up in bed and screwed the back off his alarm clock.
The microphone was about as big as a pe
CHAPTER 10
Wallander woke in a state of irrepressible fury. He felt humiliated and shaken by the fact that somebody had placed a microphone in his alarm clock. He took a shower to wash away the weariness that had taken hold of his body, and decided to discover at once why he was being both bugged and followed. He assumed that the colonels were responsible, but why had they invited him to come and help them, and then immediately demonstrated how little they trusted him by keeping him under observation? He could understand the man in the grey suit. He imagined surveillance was par for the course in a country still so obviously behind the iron curtain. But breaking into his hotel room and planting a microphone!
At 7.30 a.m. he ordered a cup of coffee in the dining room. He looked round to see if there was any sign of a shadow, but he was alone apart from a couple of Japanese people conversing quietly and anxiously at a table in the corner. He went out into the street just before 8 a.m. The air was milder – perhaps spring was on the way. Sergeant Zids was standing by the car, waving to him. As a sign of his displeasure Wallander sat grim and silent all the way to the fortified police headquarters. When Sergeant Zids made to see him to his office in Murniers's corridor, Wallander waved him away – he knew the way by now. But, to his great a
"Good morning," Colonel Putnis said. "I hope you slept well, Mr Wallander."
No doubt you know perfectly well that I've hardly slept at all, Wallander thought. The microphone must have told you I didn't snore even once. I'll bet there's a report on your desk already.
"I can't complain," he said. "How's the interrogation going?"
"Not very well, I'm afraid, but I'll have another go this morning. We shall confront the suspect with a lot of new material that may encourage him to reconsider his position."
"I feel rather redundant," Wallander said. "I can't really see how I can be of any help."
"Good police officers are always impatient," Colonel Putnis said. "I thought I might call in on you, if you don't mind."