The Troubled Man (2011) kw-10

by Henning Mankell

  Talboth stirred the ice cubes in the jug with a spoon.

  ‘Future wars,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘will be over staples such as water. Our soldiers will fight to the death over pools of water.’

  He filled his glass, being careful not to spill any water. Wallander waited.

  ‘We never found her,’ Talboth continued. ‘We helped the Swedes as much as we could, but she was never identified, never exposed and arrested. We started talking about the possibility that she didn’t exist. But the Russians were constantly finding out about things they shouldn’t have. If Bofors made some technical advance in a weapons system, the Russians soon knew all about it. We set endless traps, but we never caught anybody.’

  ‘And Louise?’

  ‘She was above suspicion, of course. Who would have suspected her of anything?’

  Talboth excused himself, saying he had to attend to his aquarium. Wallander remained on the balcony. He started writing a summary of what Talboth had said, but then decided he didn’t need notes; he would remember. He went to the room he’d been given and lay down on the bed with his arms under his head. When he woke up, he saw that he’d been asleep for two hours. He jumped up, as if he had slept far longer. Talboth was on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. Wallander returned to his chair.

  ‘I think you’ve been dreaming,’ Talboth said. ‘You kept shouting in your sleep.’

  ‘My dreams are pretty violent at times,’ said Wallander. ‘It comes and goes.’

  ‘I’m lucky,’ said Talboth. ‘I never remember my dreams. I’m very grateful for that.’

  They walked to the Italian restaurant Talboth had mentioned earlier. They drank red wine with their food, and spoke about everything under the sun - except for Louise von Enke. After the meal Talboth insisted they try various kinds of grappa, before insisting just as strongly on paying for everything. Wallander felt distinctly tipsy when they left Il Trovatore. Talboth lit a cigarette, being careful to turn his head away when he blew out the smoke.

  ‘So,’ said Wallander, ‘many years have passed since Oleg Linde talked about a female Swedish spy. It seems implausible to me that she should still be operating.’

  ‘If she is,’ said Talboth. ‘Don’t forget what we talked about on the balcony.’

  ‘But if the spying was in fact still going on, that would exonerate Louise,’ said Wallander.

  ‘Not necessarily. Somebody else could have picked up the baton. There are no simple explanations in this world. The truth is often the opposite of what you expect.’

  They continued walking slowly down the street. Talboth lit another cigarette.

  ‘The middleman,’ Wallander said, ‘the person you called the intermediary. Do you have just as little information about him?’

  ‘He has never been exposed.’

  ‘Which means, of course, that “he” could just as well be a woman too.’

  Talboth shook his head.

  ‘Women seldom have such influential positions in the military or the arms industry. I’d bet my paltry pension it’s a man.’

  It was a very warm evening, oppressively so. Wallander could feel a headache coming on.

  ‘Is there anything in what I’ve told you that you find particularly surprising?’ Talboth asked half-heartedly, mostly to keep the conversation going.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is there any conclusion you’ve drawn that doesn’t fit in with what I’ve said?’

  ‘No. Not that I can think of.’

  ‘What do the police investigating Louise’s death have to say?’

  ‘They don’t have any leads. There’s no murderer, no motive. The only clues are the microfilm and documents hidden in a secret pocket in her handbag.’

  ‘But surely that’s proof enough to show that she’s the spy everybody has been looking for? Perhaps something went wrong when she was due to hand over her material?’

  ‘That’s a plausible explanation. I assume that’s the basis on which the police are proceeding. But what went wrong? Who was it that met her? And why did it happen just now?’

  Talboth stopped and stamped on his cigarette butt.

  ‘It’s a big step forward in any case,’ he said. ‘She’s obviously guilty. The investigation can concentrate on Louise now. They’ll probably find the middleman sooner or later.’

  They continued walking and came to the entrance door. Talboth tapped in the code.

  ‘I need more fresh air,’ Wallander said. ‘I’m a dyed-in-the-wool night owl. I’ll stay out for a bit longer.’

  Talboth nodded, gave him the entry code and went inside. Wallander watched the door closing silently. Then he stared walking along the deserted street. The feeling that something was fundamentally wrong struck him once more. The same feeling he’d had after leaving the island following the night he’d spent with Hakan von Enke. He thought about what Talboth had said, about the truth often being the opposite of what you’d expected. Sometimes you needed to turn reality upside down in order to make it stand up.

  Wallander paused and turned round. The street was still deserted. He could hear music coming from an open window. A German hit song. He heard the words leben, eben and neben. He continued walking until he came to a little square. Some young people were making out on a bench. Maybe I should stand here and shout out into the night, he thought. I don’t know what’s going on. That’s what I could shout. The only thing I’m sure about is that there’s something I’m not getting. Am I coming closer to the truth, or drifting further away from it?

  He strolled around the square for a while, growing more and more tired. When he returned to the apartment, Talboth seemed to have gone to bed. The door to the balcony was locked. Wallander undressed and fell asleep almost immediately.

  In his dreams the horses started running again. But when he woke up the next morning, he could remember nothing about them.

  37

  When Wallander opened his eyes, he didn’t know where he was at first. He glanced at his watch: six o’clock. He stayed in bed. He could hear through the wall what he assumed was the noise of the machines adjusting the oxygen level of the water in the gigantic aquarium, but he couldn’t hear whether the trains were running. They lived a silent life in their well-insulated tunnels. Like moles, he thought. But also like the people who wormed their way into the places where decisions were made, decisions they then stole and passed on to the other side, which was supposed to be kept in ignorance.

  He got out of bed and felt an urge to leave. He didn’t bother to take a shower, but simply dressed and emerged into the large, well-lit apartment. The balcony door was open, the thin curtains flapping gently in the breeze. Talboth was sitting there, cigarette in hand. A cup of coffee was on the table in front of him. He turned slowly to face Wallander, who had the impression that Talboth had heard him coming. He smiled. It suddenly seemed to Wallander that he didn’t trust that smile.

  ‘I hope you slept well.’

  ‘The bed was very comfortable,’ said Wallander. ‘The room was dark and quiet. But I think I should thank you for your hospitality now and take my leave.’

  ‘So you’re not going to give Berlin another day to impress you? There’s an awful lot I could show you.’

  ‘I’d love to stay on, but I think it’s best I set off for home now.’

  ‘I take it your dog needs somebody to look after it?’

  How does he know I have a dog? Wallander thought. I’ve never mentioned it. He had a vague impression that Talboth realised immediately he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

  ‘Yes,’ said Wallander. ‘You’re right. I mustn’t take too much advantage of my neighbours’ willingness to keep an eye on Jussi. I’ve spent all summer heading off to first one place, then another. And of course I have a grandchild I want to see as often as possible.’

  ‘I’m glad that Louise had time to enjoy her,’ said Talboth. ‘Children are one thing, but grandchildren are even more meaningful; they are the ultimate fulfilment. Children give u
s the feeling that our existence has been meaningful, but grandchildren are the confirmation of that. Do you have a photo of her?’

  Wallander showed him the two photographs he had brought.

  ‘A lovely little girl,’ said Talboth, getting to his feet. ‘But you must have some breakfast before you leave.’

  ‘Just a cup of coffee,’ said Wallander. ‘I never have anything to eat in the morning.’

  Talboth shook his head in disapproval. But he came back out onto the balcony with a cup of coffee - black, the way Wallander always drank it.

  ‘You said something yesterday that I’ve been wondering about,’ Wallander said.

  ‘No doubt I said all kinds of things that you’ve been wondering about.’

  ‘You said that sometimes one needed to look for explanations in places diametrically opposed to where one was looking at the time. Did you mean that as a general principle, or were you referring to something specific?’

  Talboth thought for a moment.

  ‘I don’t recall saying what you say I did,’ he said. ‘But if I did, it was no doubt meant as a general principle.’

  Wallander nodded. He didn’t believe a word of what Talboth said. He had meant something specific. It was just that Wallander hadn’t caught on to what it was.

  Talboth seemed on edge, not as calm and relaxed as he had been the previous day.

  ‘I’d like to take a photo of the two of us together,’ he said. ‘I’ll get my camera. I don’t have a guest book, but I always take photographs when I have visitors.’

  He came back with a camera, which he balanced on the arm of one of the chairs. He set the timer and came to sit down beside Wallander. When the picture was taken, he took another one himself, this time of Wallander alone. They said their goodbyes shortly afterwards. Wallander had his jacket in one hand and his car keys in the other.

  ‘Will you manage to find your way out of the city without help?’ Talboth asked.

  ‘My sense of direction isn’t all that good, but I’ll no doubt find the right road sooner or later. Besides, there’s a logic in the German road network that puts all the others to shame.’

  They shook hands. Wallander took the lift down to street level and waved to Talboth, who was leaning over his balcony railing. As he left the building, Wallander noticed that Talboth’s name didn’t appear on the name-plate listing all the tenants; it said instead ‘USG Enterprises’. Wallander memorised the name, then got in his car and drove off.

  It took him several hours to find his way out of the city. When he finally emerged onto the motorway, he realised too late that he had missed an exit and was now heading for the Polish border. With considerable difficulty he eventually managed to turn and set off in the right direction. When he passed Oranienburg, he shuddered at the memory of what had happened there.

  He arrived back home without any problems. Linda came to visit him that evening. Klara had a cold, and Hans was taking care of her. The following day he was due to leave for New York.

  It was a warm evening, so they sat out in the garden, and Linda drank tea.

  ‘How’s business going for him?’ Wallander asked as they swung slowly back and forth in the hammock.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Linda. ‘But I sometimes wonder what’s going on. He always used to come home and tell me about the fantastic deals he’d closed during the day. Now he doesn’t say anything at all.’

  A skein of geese flew past. They watched the birds flying south.

  ‘Are they migrating already?’ Linda wondered. ‘Isn’t it too early?’

  ‘Maybe they’re practising,’ said Wallander.

  Linda burst out laughing.

  ‘That’s exactly the kind of comment Grandad would have made. Do you realise that you’re getting more and more like him?’

  Wallander dismissed the thought.

  ‘We both know he had a sense of humour. But he could be much more malicious than I ever allow myself to be.’

  ‘I don’t think he was malicious,’ Linda said firmly. ‘I think he was scared.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Maybe of growing old. Of dying. I think he used to hide that fear behind his malevolence, which was often just a front.’

  Wallander didn’t reply. He wondered if that was what she meant when she said they were so similar. That he was also beginning to make it obvious that he was afraid of dying?

  ‘Tomorrow you and I are going to visit Mona,’ Linda said out of the blue.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because she’s my mother, and you and I are her next of kin.’

  ‘Doesn’t she have her psychopath of a businessman-cum-husband to look after her?’

  ‘Haven’t you figured out that it’s all over?’

  ‘No, I’m not coming with you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t want anything more to do with Mona. Now that Baiba’s dead, I can’t forgive Mona for what she said about her.’

  ‘Jealous people come out with jealous stupidities. Mona’s told me the kind of things you used to say when you were jealous.’

  ‘She’s lying.’

  ‘Not always.’

  ‘I’m not going. I don’t want to.’

  ‘But I want you to. And I think Mum wants you to. You can’t just cut her out of your life.’

  Wallander said nothing. There was no point in protesting any more. If he didn’t do as Linda wished it would make both his and her existence impossible for a long time. He didn’t want that.

  ‘I don’t even know where the clinic is,’ he said in the end.

  ‘You’ll find out tomorrow. It’ll be a surprise.’

  An area of low pressure drifted in over Skane during the night. As they sat in the car driving east shortly after eight in the morning, it had started raining and a wind was blowing up. Wallander felt groggy. He had slept badly and was tired and irritable when Linda came to pick him up. She immediately sent him back indoors to change his old, worn-out trousers.

  ‘You don’t need to be in your best suit to visit her, but you can’t show up looking as scruffy as that.’

  They turned off onto the road leading to an old castle, Glimmingehus. Linda looked at him.

  ‘Do you remember?’

  ‘Of course I remember.’

  ‘We have plenty of time. We can stop and take a look.’

  Linda drove into the car park outside the high castle walls. They left the car and walked over the drawbridge into the castle yard.

  ‘This is among my earliest memories,’ said Linda. ‘When you and I came here. And you scared me to death with all your ghost stories. How old was I then?’

  ‘The first time we came I suppose you must have been four or thereabouts. But that’s not when I told you the ghost stories. I did that when you were seven, I think. Maybe it was the summer when you were about to start school.’

  ‘I remember being so proud of you,’ said Linda. ‘My big, imposing dad. I like to think back on moments like that, when I felt so safe and secure, and so happy to be alive.’

  ‘I have similar memories,’ said Wallander genuinely. ‘They were the best years of my life, when you were a little girl.’

  ‘Where does the time go?’ Linda wondered. ‘Do you think like that too? Now that you’re sixty?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘A few years ago I noticed that I’ve started reading the obituaries in Ystads Allehanda. If I came across another daily newspaper, I’d read them there as well. I wondered more and more about what had become of my old school friends from Limhamn. How had their lives turned out, compared to mine? I started looking into that, half-heartedly.’

  They sat down on the stone steps leading into the castle itself.

  ‘Those of us who started school in 1955 really have lived all kinds of different lives. I think I know what happened to most of my friends now. Things didn’t go well for a lot of them. Several are dead; one shot himself after emigrating to Canada. A few were successful, such as Solve Hagberg, who won Doub
le or Quits. Most of them have led quiet lives. Good for them. And this is how my life has turned out. When you reach sixty, most of your life is behind you. You just have to accept that, hard though it is. There are very few important decisions still to be made.’

  ‘Do you feel like your life is coming to a close?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘What do you think at times like that?’

  He hesitated before replying, then gave her an honest answer.

  ‘I mourn the fact that Baiba is dead. That we never managed to get together.’

  ‘There are other women,’ said Linda. ‘You don’t have to be on your own.’

  Wallander stood up.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘There aren’t any others. Baiba was irreplaceable.’

  They went back to the car and drove the remaining couple of miles to the clinic. It was in a mansion with four wings, and the old inner courtyard had been preserved. Mona was sitting on a bench smoking as they approached her over the cobblestones.

  ‘Has she started smoking?’ Wallander asked. ‘She never used to.’

  ‘She says she smokes to console herself. And that she’ll stop once this is over.’

  ‘When will it be over?’

  ‘She’ll be here for another month.’

  ‘And Hans is paying for it all?’

  She didn’t reply to that question because the answer was obvious. Mona stood up as they approached. Wallander noticed with distaste the pale grey colour of her face, and the heavy bags under her eyes. He thought she was ugly, something that had never struck him before.

  ‘It was nice of you to come,’ she said, taking his hand.

  ‘I wanted to see how you were,’ he mumbled.

  They all sat down on the bench, with Mona in the middle. Wallander immediately felt the urge to leave. The fact that Mona was struggling with withdrawal symptoms and anxiety was not sufficient reason for him to be there. Why did Linda want him to see Mona in such a state? Was it an attempt to make him acknowledge his share of the guilt? What was he guilty of? He could feel himself growing increasingly irritated while Linda and Mona talked to each other. Then Mona asked if they wanted to see her room. Wallander declined, but Linda went into the house with her.