The Pyramid

What she said next surprised Wallander even more.

'I've seen it,' she said. 'I went to Marbella last year. We have ongoing professional training. There's stiff competition between travel agencies these days. One day when I had time, I drove out and looked at their house. I knew the address.'

'Was it large?'

'It was palatial. With a huge garden. High walls all around, and guards.'

'I would appreciate it if you could write down the address for me,' Wallander said, unable to conceal his eagerness.

She looked through her folders and then wrote it down.

'You said that Emilia was pla

She entered something into her computer.

'The seventh of January,' she said. 'From Kastrup at 9.05 a.m., via Madrid.'

Wallander helped himself to a pencil from her desk and made a note.

'So she didn't take charter trips?'

'Neither of them did. They travelled first class.'

That's right, Wallander thought. These ladies were loaded.

She told him which airline Emilia had booked her flight with. Iberia, Wallander wrote.

'I don't know what happens now,' she said. 'The ticket has been paid for.'

'I'm sure it will sort itself out,' Wallander said. 'How did they pay for their travel, by the way?'

'Always in cash. In thousand-kronor notes.'

Wallander slipped his notes into his pocket and got up.

'You've been a great help,' he said. 'The next time I travel anywhere I'll come and book my trip here. But for me that will mean charter.'

It was close to four o'clock. Wallander walked past the bank, where he was due to pick up his loan documents and money for the car tomorrow. He braced himself against the wind as he crossed the square. He made it back to the station by twenty past four. Again he directed a ritual kick at the hinge. Ebba told him that Hansson and Svedberg were out. But, more important, she had called the hospital and been able to speak to Rydberg. He had said that he was feeling fine. But he was being kept in overnight.

'I'll go look in on him.'

'That was the last thing he said,' Ebba replied. 'That under no circumstances did he want to have any visitors or phone calls. And absolutely no flowers.'

'Well, that doesn't surprise me,' Wallander said. 'If you think about how he is.'

'You all work too hard, eat too much junk and don't get enough exercise.'

Wallander leaned over towards her.

'That goes for you too,' he said. 'You aren't as slim as you once were, you know.'

Ebba burst into laughter. Wallander went to the break room and found half a loaf of bread that someone had left. He made several sandwiches to bring back to his office. Then he wrote a report on his conversations with Li

The question is simply what is behind all this. And why were the women murdered all of a sudden? Something has been set in motion but then all at once it collapses.

At six o'clock he tried once more to get in touch with the others. The only one he managed to reach was Martinsson. They decided to hold a meeting at eight o'clock the next morning. Wallander put his feet up on his desk and went through the double homicide in his mind one more time. But since he didn't feel that he was getting anywhere he decided he might as well continue his thinking at home. And anyway, he needed to clean out his car before he got rid of it tomorrow.

He had just put his coat on when Martinsson walked in.

'I think it's best that you sit down,' Martinsson said.

'I'm fine standing up,' Wallander said grumpily. 'What is it?'

Martinsson appeared conflicted. He was holding a telex message in his hand.

'This just came in from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Stockholm,' he said.

He handed the piece of paper to Wallander, who read the message without understanding anything. Then he sat down at his desk and read it again, word for word.

Now he understood what was written there, but he refused to believe that it was true.

'It says here that my father had been arrested by the Cairo police, and that he would be brought before a judge if he did not immediately pay a fine of approximately ten thousand kronor. He had been accused of "unlawful entry and forbidden ascent".'

'What the hell does "forbidden ascent" mean?'

'I called the foreign ministry,' Martinsson said. 'I also thought it seemed strange. Apparently he was trying to climb the Cheops pyramid. Even though it's against the law.'

Wallander stared helplessly at Martinsson.

'I think you're going to have to fly there and bring him home,' Martinsson said. 'There are limits to what the Swedish authorities can do.'

Wallander shook his head.

He refused to believe it.

It was six o'clock. The fifteenth of December, 1989.

CHAPTER 8

At ten past one the following day, Wallander sank down into an SAS seat on a DC-9 aircraft called 'Agne'. He sat in 19C, an aisle seat, and he had a vague understanding that the plane, after stops in Frankfurt and Rome, would take him to Cairo. The arrival time was set at 10.15. Wallander still did not know if there was a time difference between Sweden and Egypt. In fact, he knew very little in general about what had jerked him out of his life in Ystad, from the investigation of a plane crash and a brutal double homicide, to an aircraft in Kastrup preparing for take-off, headed for North Africa.

The evening before, when the contents of the telex from the foreign ministry had actually sunk in, he had completely lost it. He left the station without a word, and even though Martinsson accompanied him as far as the car park and declared himself willing to help, Wallander had not so much as answered him.

When he got home to Mariagatan, he had two large tumblerfuls of whisky. Then he reread the crumpled telex several more times in the hopes that there was an encoded message in it explaining that it was all an invention, a joke, one that perhaps even his own father had played on him. But he had realised that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Stockholm meant business. There was no way out for him other than to accept this as a fact: his demented father had started climbing a pyramid, with the result that he had been apprehended and was now being held in police custody in Cairo.

Shortly after eight o'clock, Wallander called Malmö. As luck would have it, Linda answered. He told her what had happened and asked for her advice. What should he do? Her answer had been very firm. He had no option but to travel to Egypt the following day and see to it that her grandfather was released. Wallander had many objections, but she dismissed them one after another. Finally he realised that she was right. She also promised him to find out what available co

Wallander slowly calmed himself. Tomorrow he was supposed to go to the bank to pick up a car loan for twenty thousand kronor. No one would ask him what he was going to use the money for. He had enough money to buy a ticket and he could change the rest of the cash to British pounds or dollars in order to pay his father's fine. At ten o'clock Linda called and said that there was a flight the following day at ten past one. He also decided to ask Anette Bengtsson for help. Earlier that day, when he had promised to avail himself of the travel agency's services, he had not dreamed it would be so soon.

He tried to pack at around midnight, realising he knew nothing about Cairo. His father had gone there with an ancient pith helmet on his head. But he was unhinged beyond a doubt and could not be taken seriously. Finally, Wallander tossed some shirts and underwear into a bag and decided that would be enough. He was not going to stay away any longer than absolutely necessary.