At two twenty, Axel was sitting in the back of an ambulance that had been called out. He pushed aside the thoughts of what he had been dealing with earlier in the night and tried to piece together the few bits of information he’d been given to form a picture of what awaited him: a car that had left the road, possible serious injuries, perhaps even worse than that… Suddenly the image of his mother appeared, getting up from her chair, shouting angrily into his face, calling him Brede. He closed his eyes, heard his father’s voice: Brede puts himself on the outside. But you, Axel, you’ll be someone who always pays his dues. Brede truanted from school when he felt like it. He stole from their father’s wallet. Not just small change, notes. He started a fire in a field that the fire brigade had to come and put out. Axel went along with him part of the way, but pulled out when things started to have consequences. His twin brother got punished. It had no effect on him.
Resistance fighter, war hero, high court judge: the honoured and much-decorated Colonel Glenne had a son who brought shame on his name. Axel’s duty was to redress the balance. Show the world that the problem was not with the family. He soon discovered how easy it was, as though borne forward by invisible hands. His parents, of course, but also teachers, trainers, then later supervisors and examiners, all seemed to share the same assumption: that Axel Glenne should be helped; he was a winner. He hadn’t even had to fight for Bie. He met her at a student party. She was there with her boyfriend but spent the time talking to Axel out in the kitchen. For some reason or other she wanted to interview him for the student newspaper. When he was about to leave, she asked for his address.
The rear wheels of the car were up on the side of the road. One of the rear lights was still working. It struck Axel that it was encouraging to see it in position; perhaps it hadn’t been going that fast. But as soon as the ambulance came to a halt and the scene was illuminated, he saw that the roof was squashed. He jumped out immediately, surgical bag in one hand, torch in the other.
– It must have flipped over.
The ambulance driver, a man named Martin, agreed. Sven, his partner, added: – At least once.
Three or four figures were standing further down the roadside in front of a parked car, its engine still running.
– Are you the people who rang?
– It was me, answered one of them, an elderly man with a woollen hat pulled down over his ears. – We drove past and saw it like that. There’s someone inside. We couldn’t get the door open.
Martin had clambered down into the ditch and was shining his torch into the car.
– One person trapped behind the wheel, he shouted up to Axel.
– Can we get inside without assistance?
Martin tugged at the door handle.
– Try the other one.
Axel jumped down and tried it. The car wasn’t as badly damaged on this side, but the door was locked.
– The front windscreen is more or less gone, he shouted to Martin, and climbed up on to the bonnet. From the engine compartment beneath him came a hissing sound.
– We’ve got to cut the wires.
He shone the beam inside. A figure was slumped over the steering wheel. Axel reached through the shattered windscreen and took hold of the jacket at the shoulder, shook it.
– Can your hear me?
No answer. He smelled alcohol. Not windscreen washer or something from the engine, but liquor.
– Hello, can you hear me?
A faint groan. Axel twisted over to one side and managed to get a finger on the driver’s throat.
– Pulse is normal, he shouted to Martin, who was still on the other side. – About ninety, he added.
– Any chance we can get him out?
– The roof is squashed behind the door, we can’t get in. The fire brigade should be here any minute.
He shone his torch on the figure behind the wheel, a young man, he could tell by the sideburns. He had a cut on the side of the throat that was bleeding, but it wasn’t deep. The smell of alcohol was coming from him.
– He’s breathing easily enough. I don’t want to touch that neck until I have to.
A rumbling sound from the man behind the wheel.
– Are you awake? called Axel. – Can you hear me?
Again the same sound, concluding with a groan.
– I’m a doctor. We’ll soon have you out of there. Were you alone?
The man muttered something.
– We’ll help you, Axel said soothingly. – It’s going to be okay.
Suddenly the driver croaked: – Lise…
– Were you alone in the car? Axel asked again.
– Lise, shouted the man and tried to raise his head from the wheel.
– Stay calm.
– Lise!
Axel climbed off the bonnet. Sven appeared behind him with a pair of wire-cutters.
– I’m thinking we’d better kill that engine.
– Great. He’s almost conscious, but keep a close eye on him. I’ll check to see if there might have been a passenger with him.
– Doesn’t look like it.
Axel scrambled up on to the road. He could hear sirens in the distance.
– Move your car over to the side! he shouted to a woman who had just stopped. – The fire engine needs to get right up here.
He shone his torch across the dry asphalt. Shards of glass, skid marks. The car had been approaching from the north, from Tangen, not from Dal as he had first thought. He trotted up the side of the road, some way past the last car in the backed-up traffic. A lump of rock was sticking out, and when he shone the light on it, he saw that it was covered with glass and streaks of paint.
He followed the other roadside ditch back towards the crashed vehicle. Ten metres on from the stone he found her. She was lying on her back; she looked relaxed. A young girl. The face pale and unmarked. But the eyes were awash with a thick pale red froth. Not until he bent over to feel for a pulse on her throat did he realise that most of the back of her head was missing.
The helicopter arrived ten minutes later, at a quarter to three. They checked his findings with him. The girl had been killed instantaneously. The driver’s thorax was unstable and there was probably internal bleeding. They took him with them. Axel was left standing there, a purse in his hand. It had been found beneath one of the seats. White leather trimmed with fur, two pockets for notes, one for cards. He removed one of the cards, examined it by the interior light of the ambulance. He recognised the name. She was a year older than Tom. Her big sister had been in Daniel’s class. Axel had sat on the PTA with her mother.
He turned to the inspector, handed him the card.
– She’s from round here, he told him. – They live down in Flaskebekk. The mother’s name is Ingrid Brodahl, when you call…
The policeman trudged towards his car. His shoulders were sunken and he had a slight limp in one leg.
– Hang on, Axel called after him. – I’m driving back through Tangen. I’ll talk to them myself.
5
Tuesday 25 September
THE BOAT THUDDED into the quayside and several of the passengers who were already standing up toppled into each other. Axel woke with a start and looked at his watch: 7.25. He waited until the exit queue had thinned out before getting unsteadily to his feet, crossing the deck and stepping on to the quay. In the early hours he’d managed an hour, perhaps an hour and a half of sleep. It might have done him good to walk to the office, but he gave in to exhaustion and got into a taxi. Closed his eyes and at once fell into a light sleep. Images from the night flickered across his mind. The car with its rear end up on the road. The girl lying in the ditch more than fifty metres away. Ringing the bell. The light going on in the hallway. The grimy face in the door opening: Lise’s father. Axel had met him a few times over the years; he was an engineer, he recalled, repaired ship’s engines and was away from home a lot. But today he was home and peering out on to the dark stoop and he still didn’t know what kind of messenger he had opened the door to.