The woman behind the reception counter is talking on the telephone. She looks up at him and smiles warmly. Her dark brown hair is tied back in a ponytail. Her lipstick is bright red and her skin lightly tanned. Around her neck, just above the white blouse, is a pendant with half a heart.
Thorleif takes a step forwards when she hangs up.
‘Hello,’ she smiles. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I was wondering if you have Internet access here?’
‘Indeed we do. We have wireless Internet in the whole lobby area. Guests or anyone else can connect. The network is free and you don’t need a password.’
‘Ah,’ Thorleif says, grateful for anything that will save him money. The woman serves up her best service smile. He looks around again. ‘Is there a computer I can borrow?’
‘No, unfortunately. We don’t offer that. But if you have WiFi on your mobile then you can use that.’
‘I don’t have a mobile, either,’ Thorleif says and shakes his head. ‘Is there a telephone here I could use? I’ll obviously pay the cost of the call and-’
‘I’m sorry, I — we — we don’t have that, either.’
Thorleif looks down. A torturous silence fills the room.
‘Are you a guest here?’ she asks.
Thorleif looks at the wall further away where notices and posters have been put up at random.
‘No. I live… in a cabin further up the mountains.’
‘And you didn’t bring your computer or your mobile?’
‘No.’
Another silence. What does he do now? Go to the nearest library?
‘You could borrow my laptop if you want.’
Thorleif looks back at her, sees that she is holding up a laptop bag and smiling at him again.
‘I always bring my laptop to work. At this time of the year there isn’t much to do in the evenings.’
‘Really? You would lend me your laptop?’
‘As long as you sit where I can see you, so that… ’ she smiles and points to the black leather chairs next to the fireplace.
‘You never can tell, isn’t that right?’
‘Absolutely,’ Thorleif says, drawn to her warm smile. ‘Thank you so much. You’ve no idea how grateful I am-’
He stops and looks at her.
‘I can see it in your face,’ she replies.
‘Can you?’
She nods eagerly. ‘I’m a writer, you see. Or… at least I’m trying to become a writer. That’s why I always bring my laptop to work in case I have some spare time, and then I can write. And I’m used to studying faces. But please don’t tell my boss. He’s in my book, you see.’
She giggles. Thorleif smiles but feels his smile freeze instantly. The thought that this helpful woman has memorised his face hits him like a punch to the stomach. He takes the bag as she lifts it over the counter and tries to look appreciative.
‘I’ve always wanted to write a book,’ he says, mostly to say something.
‘What a coincidence.’
Thorleif nods.
‘I’m Mia, by the way.’
‘Hi, Mia.’
She looks at him in anticipation.
‘My name is… Einar.’
‘Will you be staying here a long time, Einar?’
‘Well, I… I don’t really know.’
‘I work here every night, so just drop by. The restaurant is open at weekends.’
‘Okay,’ Thorleif says, unwillingly. ‘I’ll… I’ll remember that.’
He turns around and walks over to the leather chairs where he sits down facing Mia so she won’t be able to see what he is doing. The screen wakes up the moment he opens the computer.
‘My laptop remembers the network here, so surf away.’
Thorleif nods in response to her charming smile and thanks her with his eyes.
Ever since he remembered the potential fingerprint he has wondered who to contact and how to go about it. The police are out of the question since the man with the ponytail said that they had infiltrated them. Thorleif has considered contacting someone from work, but since the criminal gang knew that Thorleif was part of the team that was meeting Tore Pulli, he can’t trust anyone at work either. He has to find someone else.
Out of habit he visits TV2’s website first and sees an advert that frames the home page, but initially there is nothing about Pulli’s death. Nor can he find anything about himself. In the news section he finds an interview which the news editor did with Guri Palme. An edited video with the final images of Pulli has also been uploaded. That must be Reinertsen’s footage, Thorleif assumes, but he can’t bear to watch it. He checks the other newspapers and sees that VG, Dagbladet, Aftenposten and Nettavisen are all running stories on Tore Pulli, but they don’t mention
Thorleif’s disappearance either. He goes to 123news. When the ads at the top half of the page have downloaded themselves, his eyes widen. One of the top news stories reads: TV 2 CAMERAMAN MISSING
Eagerly he clicks on it and reads the introduction:
There has been no contact from TV2 cameraman Thorleif Brenden since Thursday morning. His family is worried.
Everything that has happened in the past few days becomes even more real as he reads about himself online. Fortunately, the story is not accompanied by his photo. Below the introduction he sees the names of the journalists who wrote the article.
Henning Juul and Iver Gundersen.
Strange, Thorleif thinks, that 123news is reporting his disappearance when nobody else is. Perhaps he isn’t officially missing yet? It might be too soon. So why and how did 123news know?
He rereads the final sentence and feels his stomach lurch when it dawns on him that the reporters have spoken to Elisabeth. Thorleif reads on:
Respected TV2 cameraman Thorleif Brenden has gone missing. On Thursday morning, Brenden was at work and, according to a colleague, went to fetch something from his car at the end of a recording. He never returned.
‘We dread to think what might have happened to him,’ says reporter Guri Palme to 123news. She was working with Brenden just before he disappeared.
Brenden’s girlfriend, Elisabeth Haaland, is also worried about him.
‘It’s not like Thorleif to behave like this,’ she said in tears to 123news.
His disappearance has been reported to the police who have initiated a search for him.
In tears, Thorleif thinks. Poor Elisabeth.
In a box to the right of the main text are links to various stories about the death of Tore Pulli. Thorleif clicks on them in turn and sees that Iver Gundersen wrote all of them. He is also the first to report that Thorleif is missing.
Thorleif opens another window and logs on to Hotmail.
Chapter 72
‘Okay, thanks for your help.’
Orjan Mjones hangs up and puts a despondent hard line through the name of Jan Ivar Fossbakk. Above him four other names have already been crossed out: Benjamin Rokke, Syver Odegard, Idun Skorpen-Wold and Sverre Magnus Vereide. Mjones leans back and stretches out his arms, turning his head from side to side so the bones creak.
He gets up, shuffles across the shiny floor and enters the kitchen. From the fridge he takes out a carton of milk, finds a clean glass in the top cupboard and fills it up. He downs the milk in a couple of big gulps. He has more ticket inspectors to call, a task he never would have started if he didn’t know that they are trained to recognise faces.
Mjones returns to the living room and sits down at the circular table where his laptop is open. Lying next to it is the list Terje Eggen was kind enough to provide him with which gives him the ticket inspectors’ names, their mobile numbers and the specific train line they were working on the day in question. Mjones picks up the sheet and finds the next name on the list. Nils Petter Kittelsen.
‘Hello, yes?’
‘Inspector Stian Henriksen, Oslo Police,’ Mjones says, in a commanding and grave voice.