Read Online Firewall by Henning Mankell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Henning Mankell
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corridor and stared at him.
"What happened in there?"
Wallander didn't answer. He looked at his hand. It had turned red and was hurting. Neither one of them saw the journalist who had arrived early for the press conference. During the chaos of the last few moments he had reached the door unnoticed. He snapped two, three, four pictures. A headline was already taking shape in his mind.
The press conference started half an hour late. Holgersson had been clinging to the hope that a patrol would spot Hökberg. Wallander, who had been harbouring no illusions about the likelihood of this happening, had wanted to get started on time, in part also because his flu was now breaking out in full force.
He convinced her at last to go ahead. The reporters were only going to get irritated and make things more difficult for them.
"What do you want me to tell them?" she said.
"Nothing," Wallander said. "I'll handle it. I just want you to be there, that's all."
He excused himself and went to the toilet. He rinsed his face in cold water, then returned to the large conference room. He flinched when he saw how many reporters were there. He walked up to the podium with Holgersson. They sat down and Wallander looked out over the sea of faces. He recognised a good many. Some he knew by name, but some were complete strangers.
What should I tell them? he wondered. Even when you think you know what you are going to say it never comes out exactly the way you had imagined.
Holgersson welcomed the reporters and introduced Wallander.
I hate this, he thought bitterly. I don't just dislike it. All these meetings with the media. I know they are a fact of life, but I hate them.
He counted silently to three before he began.
"Last Tuesday evening in Ystad, a taxi driver was brutally assaulted and robbed. As you know, he died from the wounds that were inflicted. Two people have since been charged with the crime and they have both confessed. One of the assailants is a juvenile and consequently we will not be releasing any names at this press conference."
One of the reporters raised his hand.
"Isn't it true that the assailants were both women?"
"I'll get there, don't worry" Wallander said.
The reporter was young and pushy. "This press conference was supposed to start at 1 p.m. and it's already past 1.30. Don't you realise that we have deadlines to meet?"
Wallander ignored this question.
"This case is therefore a homicide," he said. "There's no reason not to disclose that this was an unusually savage killing. It is therefore comforting to know that we were able to resolve the investigation as rapidly as we did."
Then he took a deep breath. He felt as if he were diving into a pool without knowing how deep it was.
"Regrettably there has been a complication. One of the assailants has escaped. We have, I should add, every expectation of catching her shortly."
At first there was complete silence in the room. Then the questions burst from all sides.
"What's her name?"
Wallander looked over at Holgersson, who nodded.
"Sonja Hökberg."
"Where was she being detained?"
"Here at the police station."
"How could that happen?"
"We're conducting an inquiry into the matter."
"What does that mean?"
"Exactly what you think it means. That we're looking into how Hökberg was able to escape from custody."
"Would it be correct to describe her as dangerous?"
Wallander hesitated. "We don't know yet if she poses a threat to the public."
"She either poses a threat or she doesn't, surely? Which is it?"
Wallander was on the verge of losing his temper, for the umpteenth time in this one day. He wanted very much to bring proceedings to a close and go home and go to bed.
"Next question."
The reporter was not going to give up. "I want a definite answer. Is she dangerous or not?"
"I've given you my answer. Next question."
"Is she armed?"
"We don't know."
"Lundberg, the taxi driver: how was he attacked?"
"With a knife and with a hammer."
"Have you recovered the murder weapons?"
"Yes."
"Can we see
"What happened in there?"
Wallander didn't answer. He looked at his hand. It had turned red and was hurting. Neither one of them saw the journalist who had arrived early for the press conference. During the chaos of the last few moments he had reached the door unnoticed. He snapped two, three, four pictures. A headline was already taking shape in his mind.
The press conference started half an hour late. Holgersson had been clinging to the hope that a patrol would spot Hökberg. Wallander, who had been harbouring no illusions about the likelihood of this happening, had wanted to get started on time, in part also because his flu was now breaking out in full force.
He convinced her at last to go ahead. The reporters were only going to get irritated and make things more difficult for them.
"What do you want me to tell them?" she said.
"Nothing," Wallander said. "I'll handle it. I just want you to be there, that's all."
He excused himself and went to the toilet. He rinsed his face in cold water, then returned to the large conference room. He flinched when he saw how many reporters were there. He walked up to the podium with Holgersson. They sat down and Wallander looked out over the sea of faces. He recognised a good many. Some he knew by name, but some were complete strangers.
What should I tell them? he wondered. Even when you think you know what you are going to say it never comes out exactly the way you had imagined.
Holgersson welcomed the reporters and introduced Wallander.
I hate this, he thought bitterly. I don't just dislike it. All these meetings with the media. I know they are a fact of life, but I hate them.
He counted silently to three before he began.
"Last Tuesday evening in Ystad, a taxi driver was brutally assaulted and robbed. As you know, he died from the wounds that were inflicted. Two people have since been charged with the crime and they have both confessed. One of the assailants is a juvenile and consequently we will not be releasing any names at this press conference."
One of the reporters raised his hand.
"Isn't it true that the assailants were both women?"
"I'll get there, don't worry" Wallander said.
The reporter was young and pushy. "This press conference was supposed to start at 1 p.m. and it's already past 1.30. Don't you realise that we have deadlines to meet?"
Wallander ignored this question.
"This case is therefore a homicide," he said. "There's no reason not to disclose that this was an unusually savage killing. It is therefore comforting to know that we were able to resolve the investigation as rapidly as we did."
Then he took a deep breath. He felt as if he were diving into a pool without knowing how deep it was.
"Regrettably there has been a complication. One of the assailants has escaped. We have, I should add, every expectation of catching her shortly."
At first there was complete silence in the room. Then the questions burst from all sides.
"What's her name?"
Wallander looked over at Holgersson, who nodded.
"Sonja Hökberg."
"Where was she being detained?"
"Here at the police station."
"How could that happen?"
"We're conducting an inquiry into the matter."
"What does that mean?"
"Exactly what you think it means. That we're looking into how Hökberg was able to escape from custody."
"Would it be correct to describe her as dangerous?"
Wallander hesitated. "We don't know yet if she poses a threat to the public."
"She either poses a threat or she doesn't, surely? Which is it?"
Wallander was on the verge of losing his temper, for the umpteenth time in this one day. He wanted very much to bring proceedings to a close and go home and go to bed.
"Next question."
The reporter was not going to give up. "I want a definite answer. Is she dangerous or not?"
"I've given you my answer. Next question."
"Is she armed?"
"We don't know."
"Lundberg, the taxi driver: how was he attacked?"
"With a knife and with a hammer."
"Have you recovered the murder weapons?"
"Yes."
"Can we see
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