The Dogs of Riga

" Warten? Preuss kept repeating, and Wallander sat down obediently on a tree stump and waited. He was cold, and felt sick.

I'll have pneumonia by the time I get to Riga, he thought desperately. Of all the stupid things I've done in my life, this is the stupidest, and it deserves no respect, nothing more than a loud guffaw of scorn. Here, on a tree stump in a Lithuanian forest, sits a Swedish police officer in early middle age, one who has completely lost his sense of judgement and gone out of his mind.

But there was no going back. Clearly he would never be able to retrace his steps without help. He was totally dependent on the confounded Preuss, who the idiot Lippman had allocated to him as a guide, and there was no alternative but to keep going, further and further away from the dictates of reason, until they came to Riga.

On the ferry, just as the Swedish coastline disappeared from view, Preuss had introduced himself as Wallander was having coffee in the cafeteria. They had gone out on deck in the biting wind. Preuss had with him a letter from Lippman, and to his astonishment Wallander found himself assuming yet another new identity. This time he wasn't to be "Mr Eckers", but Herr Hegel, Herr Gottfried Hegel, a German sales representative for a sheet music and fine art book publisher. He was amazed when, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Preuss handed over a German passport with Wallander's photograph duly glued in place and stamped. He recognised it as a photograph Linda had taken of him several years earlier – how Lippman had got hold of it was a mystery. He was now Herr Hegel, and eventually realised from Preuss's stubborn talk and gesticulating that he should hand over his Swedish passport for the time being. Wallander gave him the document, knowing he was mad to do so.

It was now four days since he had been confronted by his new identity. Preuss had scrambled onto an uprooted tree, and Wallander could just see his face through the darkness. The man seemed to be peering into the east. It was a few minutes past midnight. Suddenly Preuss raised his hand and pointed eagerly to the east. They had hung a paraffin lamp on a branch so that Wallander wouldn't lose contact with Preuss. He stood up and squinted in the direction Preuss was pointing. He made out a faint, blinking light as if a cyclist with a faulty dynamo was coming towards them.

"Gehen!" he whispered. "Schnell, nun. Gehen!"

Twigs and branches poked and scratched at Wallander's face. I'm crossing the final border, he thought, but I have barbed wire in my stomach.

They came to a boundary line cut through the forest like a street. Preuss held Wallander back briefly while he listened attentively, then he dragged him across the empty space and into the cover of the dense forest on the other side. After about 10 minutes they came upon a muddy cart track and found a car waiting. Wallander could see the glow from a cigarette inside. Somebody got out and came towards him with a hooded torch. All of a sudden, he realised Inese was standing before him.

It would be a long time before he forgot the surge of joy and relief at seeing her, at encountering something familiar after all the unknown. She smiled at him in the faint light from the torch, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Preuss stretched out his ski

"It's a long way to Riga," Inese said. "We must get going."

Occasionally they left the road so that Inese could have a rest, and they also had a puncture in one of the tyres, which Wallander had managed to change with enormous effort. He had suggested he might do some of the driving, but she had merely shaken her head, without giving any explanation.

He realised straight away that something had happened. There was something hardened and determined about Inese that couldn't simply be put down to exhaustion. He sat beside her in silence, unsure whether she'd have the strength to answer questions. He had been told that Baiba Liepa was expecting him, and that Upitis was still in prison, that his confession had been reported in the newspapers.

"My name's Gottfried Hegel this time," he said when they'd been under way for two hours and had stopped to fill up with petrol from a spare can he'd got from the back seat.

"I know," Inese answered. "It's not a very attractive name."

"Tell me why I'm here, Inese. How am I to help you?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she asked him if he was hungry and passed him a bottle of beer and two meat sandwiches in a paper bag. Then they continued their journey. At one point he dozed off, but shook himself awake, worried that she might fall asleep at the wheel.

They reached the outskirts of Riga shortly before dawn. It was 21 March, his sister's birthday. In an attempt to embellish his new identity, he decided that Gottfried Hegel had a large number of brothers and sisters, and that his youngest sister was called Kristina. He could see Mrs Hegel in his mind's eye, a rather masculine woman with the begi

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"We're nearly there," she replied.

"How can I be at all useful if nobody tells me anything?" he asked. "What are you keeping from me? What's happened?"

"I'm tired," she said, "but we're pleased you've come back. Baiba is happy. She'll burst into tears when she sees you."

"Why won't you answer my questions? Something's happened, I can see you're scared to death. What is it?"

"Everything has become much more difficult these last two weeks, but it's better if Baiba tells you herself. Anyway, there's a lot I don't know either."

They were driving through the endless suburbs. The silhouettes of factories were vaguely visible against the yellow, street-lamp sky. The deserted streets were shrouded in fog, and it occurred to Wallander that this was how he'd imagined the countries of Eastern Europe, countries that called themselves socialist and declared themselves to be paradise on earth.

Inese stopped outside an oblong warehouse, switched off the engine, and pointed to a low, iron door at one gable end.

"Go there," she said. "Knock, and they'll let you in. I must go."

"Will I see you again?"

"I don't know. That's up to Baiba."

"Aren't you forgetting you're my girlfriend?"

She smiled fleetingly before answering. "I might have been Mr Eckers's girlfriend," she said, "but I'm not sure I'm as fond of Herr Hegel. I'm a good girl and I don't run off with just any man."

Wallander got out and she drove off immediately. Just for a moment he considered trying to find a bus stop and travelling into the city centre, where he'd be able to look for a Swedish Consulate or Embassy and get help to return home. He didn't dare to imagine how a Swedish diplomat would react to the story the Swedish police officer would have to tell. He could only hope that handling acute mental derangement was one of the skills a diplomat possessed. But it was too late for that. He would have to go through with what he'd embarked on.

He marched over the crunchy gravel and knocked on the iron door. A bearded man Wallander had never seen before opened it. He was cross-eyed, but gave him a friendly nod, peered over Wallander's shoulder to make sure he hadn't been followed, then ushered him quickly in and closed the door.

Wallander found himself in a warehouse full of toys. Wherever he looked were wooden shelves piled high with dolls. It was as if he'd descended to an underground catacomb with dolls' faces gri