Danielsen also congratulated me on how I had dealt with it, but was rather curt. Once again, I felt the rivalry between us. But I was happy to forgive him today of all days. Especially when he added his sincere wish that my fiancée would turn up unharmed this evening.
I remarked somewhat sheepishly that my greatest fear now was that if surveillance was lifted, the Soviets could move Miriam from the embassy without releasing her.
My boss somewhat patronizingly shook his head.
‘I understand, but I don’t think that you need to worry. First of all, they clearly believe that we have some kind of evidence, and second, both the vice-ambassador and I know perfectly well that we will not stop watching the embassy. We will know who leaves the embassy this evening and where they go. Only, we will not use it for anything – as long as your fiancée shows up.’
I felt reassured. And even though the anxiety and uncertainty still lingered in my body, in my head, I was increasingly convinced that Miriam really would come back this evening. For a moment or two, I thought about Patricia and how she would react. Then my thoughts moved on to a third woman – the interpreter who had been shot right in front of me this morning.
‘The business with the interpreter is very hard,’ I said carefully, as we pulled up in front of the police station.
My boss turned around and looked at me with his most inscrutable expression.
‘Yes, but we could not have saved her. There is a cold war going on out there, and it has claimed the lives of many in many different countries. The interpreter was a little foreign bird who landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her execution was professional and the result a success. As we were not able to arrest the killer on the spot or get any description of him, we have in practice no means of solving the murder. The newspapers will write about it tomorrow, and maybe at the start of next week, but the interest will die down, certainly if we now manage to solve the other murders soon. The interpreter was Russian, and it would appear that she was killed by another Russian, and the Soviet Embassy is well aware of that. The Soviets are obviously not going to complain if the case is not solved, and it is not likely that anyone in Norway will either. The interpreter’s death is a tragedy for her and her family in the Soviet Union, but for us, it is the least important crime in a complex case. The most important thing right now is that you get your fiancée back. The next most important thing is that we find out who killed Per Johan Fredriksen and his daughter.’
And with that, Danielsen stopped the car.
On my way into the station, I thought that my boss was right in many ways. The interpreter could not have been saved, and it was apparently a Soviet crime against a Soviet citizen. And in that sense, it was less our case than the others were. But the woman had been living here. It was here she had first of all tried to help me solve a crime and then tried to save her own life. And it was here, right in front of my very eyes and hundreds of others, that she had been shot. And, I thought to myself, I had seen another side of my boss – a more cynical and less likeable face.
I remembered the photograph of the elderly couple in her wallet, and wondered if the young Tatiana’s parents were still alive behind the Iron Curtain. According to her passport, she had been unmarried and did not have children. But there might very well be a boyfriend somewhere who did not yet know that she was dead, and would never know why she died.
It was an uncomfortable thought. But then, a moment later, I looked at my hand and a picture of Miriam and her engagement ring filled my head.
My watch said it was a quarter past five. I had several nerve-wracking hours ahead of me.
XIII
After a few minutes at the station, I ascertained that the hours would be insufferably long if I was to stay there all evening. And I could not bring myself to ring Miriam’s mother to tell her the good news. The thought of maybe having to call her again a few hours later to tell her that her daughter had died was simply unbearable.
There was no new information about the Fredriksen case waiting for me. I spent a while pondering over who might be behind those murders if it was not a Soviet agent, but I could not really concentrate.
I asked my boss for permission to take a couple of hours off in lieu to go out and get something to eat. My boss was himself on his way home for supper, and agreed straightaway.
Then I rang Patricia. I told her that after our meeting at the Soviet Embassy, there was hope that Miriam would come back, and that some of the information we got in connection with the Fredriksen case reinforced her theory.
Patricia sounded quite jolly when she replied: ‘Well, that might give grounds for a quiet celebration for us both. Come for supper, if you have the time and inclination – before your fiancée can be expected.’
This was said with an almost jokey undertone. I felt so grateful to Patricia, and was extremely curious to hear what she might say about the remaining mysteries. So I said yes.
I was shown into Patricia’s library at a quarter to six. The asparagus soup was already on the table. I thought to myself that either the kitchen here worked at record speed, or they had had a three-course meal ready in case I should come. I guessed it was the latter, and after what had been an unusually demanding Friday, I greatly appreciated it. As soon as I looked at the food, I realized that for the first time today, I was hungry.
We gave each other a warm hug as soon as I came in. Patricia was wearing a green blouse that was very light for the time of year and revealed a fair amount of skin. The thought that another man stood between us hit me hard at that moment.
I quickly retreated and once again felt a stab of guilt in relation to the woman who was sitting opposite and my fiancée. It did not make matters any better that my fiancée first of all was still being held hostage, and second, had no idea that I was here.
After a somewhat hesitant start, we had a very nice meal. I was still tense, but naturally also very relieved, following the afternoon’s developments and at the prospect of getting Miriam back alive and unharmed. Patricia quickly regained her usual conceited and self-assured air. But I also noted in her a sense of relief that her theory had proved to be right.
Patricia ate the asparagus soup and beef entrecote with a healthy appetite, but listened intently when I recounted our meeting at the Soviet Embassy. She nodded appreciatively, especially when I mentioned my parting shot to the vice-ambassador.
‘Excellent. So, it is very likely that your fiancée will appear again soon, and the murder of the interpreter can be seen as solved, even though no one has been arrested. The man in the hat will soon be out of the country, which is considerably more satisfactory, so long as he did not kill either Per Johan or Vera Fredriksen. Something that I am fairly certain he did not. But he was at the scene of the crime when Fredriksen died and anything he can tell us could be decisive to solving the case.’
I asked how close we were to finding the solution – and without thinking, begged Patricia to tell me what she thought. Just then, the maid came in to clear away the main course and serve the dessert. When we were alone again, Patricia gave a self-satisfied, teasing smile as she spooned a piece of chocolate cake into her mouth.
‘I made an exception earlier on today, as your fiancée’s life was at risk. But now that it is simply a matter of solving a murder that has already been committed, you will have to forgive me for not wanting to say anything before I am certain enough of my reasoning not just to be guessing. There are still several candidates from different circles who could have killed Per Johan Fredriksen.’