One Step Behind

"These marinas are so small that people generally know each other," Martinsson said. "I doubt he would have felt safe using an assumed name."

But Wallander wasn't prepared to let go of the idea just yet. "Did you check under Svedberg's name?"

"I did, actually. But there wasn't anything."

"I want you to check the register one more time. Try anyone's name who's been associated with this investigation, either centrally or otherwise."

"You're thinking of names like Hillström and Skander?"

"Exactly."

"I see what you're saying, but do you really think it's a reasonable assumption?"

"Nothing is reasonable. Just do it. Call me if you find anything."

Wallander hung up, and looked down at the large coffee stain on his shirt. He was fairly sure he had at least one clean shirt in his cupboard, and it would take him only 20 minutes to go home and change. But he decided to wait until he heard from Martinsson again.

Thurnberg came over. "I'd like to send Albinsson home," he said. "I don't think he has anything to add at this point."

Wallander got up, walked over to Albinsson, and shook his hand. "You've been a great help to us."

"I still don't understand any of this."

"None of us do."

"Nothing should go further than this room," Thurnberg said.

Albinsson promised to keep quiet.

"Does anyone know where Nyberg is?" Wallander asked.

"He's using the phone in Hansson's office."

"That's where I'll be if Martinsson calls."

Wallander went to Hansson's office, where Nyberg sat with the telephone receiver pressed to his ear. He was writing something on a pad. He looked up when Wallander came in.

"We'll know whether or not it's Larstam's thumb before the end of the day," Nyberg said when he'd hung up.

"It is his thumb," Wallander said. "We just need confirmation."

"What will you do if it isn't his thumb?"

"Resign from this investigation."

Nyberg pondered these words. Wallander sat down in Hansson's chair.

"Do you remember the telescope?" Wallander asked. "Why was it over at Björklund's house? Who put it there?"

"You don't think it was someone other than Larstam, do you?"

"Why did he put it there?"

"Maybe to cause confusion. Perhaps a half-hearted attempt to pin the blame on Svedberg's cousin."

"He must have thought of everything."

"If he hasn't, we'll get him."

"His prints should be on the telescope."

"If he didn't think to wipe it off first."

The phone rang and Wallander grabbed it. It was Martinsson.

"You're right," he said.

Wallander jumped to his feet so fast the chair was knocked over.

"What do you have?"

"A berth registered in Isa Edengren's name. I even saw the contract and it looks like he imitated her signature. I recall what her handwriting looked like. Someone in the office remembers the person who signed it. He says it was a dark-haired woman."

"Louise."

"Exactly. She even told them her brother would often be using the boat."

"He's good," Wallander said.

"It's a small wooden boat," Martinsson said. "Big enough for a couple of sleeping berths below deck. There's another boat on one side but nothing on the other."

"I'm coming down," Wallander said. "Keep your distance, and above all stay vigilant. We have to assume he's being very careful now and he won't approach the marina unless he's sure the coast is clear."

"I guess we haven't kept as low a profile as we should have."

Wallander hung up and told Nyberg what had happened. He returned to the conference room and placed Höglund and Thurnberg in charge of coordinating assistance in the event that he needed it.

"What will you do if you find him?" she asked.

Wallander shook his head. "I'll think about that when I get there."

It was almost 1 p.m. when Wallander arrived at the docks. It was warm, and there was an occasional breeze from the southwest. He took out the binoculars he had remembered to bring and took his first look at the boat.

"It looks empty," Martinsson said.

"Is there anyone on the boat to the left?" Wallander asked.

"No."

Wallander let the binoculars glide over the rest of the boats. There were people on many of them.

"We can't risk any shots being fired," Martinsson said. "But I also don't see how we can evacuate the entire marina."

"We can't wait," Wallander said. "We have to know if he's there or not, and if he is, we have to bring him in."

"Should we start cordoning off the area around the boat?"

"No," Wallander said. "I'm climbing aboard."

Martinsson jumped. "Are you insane?"

"It would take us at least an hour to secure the area. We don't have the luxury of time in this case. I'm going in, and you'll have to back me up from the pier. I'll be as quick as I can. I doubt he's keeping a lookout. If he's there, he's probably sleeping."

"I can't let you do this," Martinsson said. "It's suicide."

"Keep in mind that Larstam didn't kill Hansson or the Malmö officer, and not because he missed. Neither was his ninth victim. This man is very particular about who he kills, and when."

"So he won't shoot you?"

"I think I have a good chance, that's all."

But Martinsson wasn't about to give in. "He has no escape route this time. What's he going to do? Jump into the water?"

"We have to take that chance," Wallander said. "I know that his not having an escape route could change everything."

"It's irresponsible."

Wallander's mind was made up. "All right then, we'll proceed with the necessary caution. Return to the station and see to it that we get the proper reinforcements. I'll stay here and keep an eye on the boat."

Martinsson left. Wallander instructed the Malmö officer to guard the car park. He walked out onto the pier, thinking that he was about to violate the most fundamental rule of police work. He was about to confront a ruthless killer, alone, without a single person to back him up, in an area that wasn't properly secured. Some children were playing on the pier. Wallander made himself sound as stern as possible and ordered them to move their games. His hand squeezed the gun in his pocket. He had already disengaged the safety catch. He studied the boat carefully and realised there was no way to approach it from the pier. If Larstam was on board he would see him. The only chance he had was to approach the boat from behind, but for that he needed a dinghy. He looked around. There was a party going on in the boat next to him, and a little red dinghy lay tied to its side. Wallander didn't hesitate. He climbed aboard and showed the surprised revellers his police identification.

"I need to borrow your dinghy," he said.

A bald man with a glass of wine in his hand stood up.

"Has there been an accident?"

"No," Wallander said. "But I have no time to explain it to you. Everyone stays put, no one climbs out onto the dock. Understood?"

No one argued with him. Wallander stepped clumsily into the dinghy and fumbled with the oars, dropping one. As he reached for it, the gun almost slid out of his pocket. He swore and broke out into a sweat. Eventually he got the oars under control and made his way into the harbour. He wondered if the dinghy was going to sink under his weight, but managed to approach the back of Larstam's boat without a mishap. He grabbed it with one hand and felt his heart pounding. He secured his dinghy, careful to avoid setting the other boat in motion. Then he stopped and listened. The only sound he heard was his own heart. Gun in hand, he slowly undid the fastenings of the covering on the back of the boat. Still no sound. Once he had undone a big enough portion of the covering he faced the hardest part. Now he had to flip the covering off and then throw himself to one side to avoid the person who might be waiting inside with a gun aimed at his head. His mind was blank, and the hand holding his gun was trembling and sweaty.