She sighed weakly.
“Thank you for taking the time to listen to me. You’ll have to decide for yourself what you want to do with what you now know. I have done my bit. Too late, of course, but all the same… you will have to decide what happens to Geir. Presumably you can’t do much. He will of course deny everything. And as nothing can be proven… But it could perhaps help this… Aksel Seier. To know what happened, I mean. Goodbye.”
Johanne watched her bent back as she made her way to the large doors of the Grand Café, and it struck her that the colors in her jacket seemed to have faded. It was as much as the old woman could do to lift her feet. Through the windows, she saw someone help her into a taxi. A hairbrush fell out of her bag as the door closed; Johanne sat and followed the car with her eyes as it drove Unni Kongsbakken away.
The brush was full of dead hair. Johanne was surprised by how clear they were, even at that distance. They were gray and reminded her of Aksel Seier.
SIXTY-FIVE
Adam Stubo was sitting alone in his office, trying to suppress an inappropriate feeling of relief.
Laffen Sørnes had died as he lived, escaping from a society that despised him. It was tragic. All the same, Adam could not rid himself of a feeling of satisfaction. With Laffen Sørnes out of the way, it would perhaps be possible to get more people to concentrate on the real sinner, the real hunt. Adam breathed easier at the thought. He felt stronger and more energetic than he had for days.
It had been a while since he’d turned off the TV. It was revolting to see how the journalists buzzed around in a blood haze without giving any thought to the seriousness of the tragedy that had just occurred live on television. He shuddered and started to sort his documents.
Sigmund Berli burst into the room.
Adam looked up and frowned.
“That was quite an entrance,” he said laconically, tapping his finger on his desk and nodding at the door. “Have we completely forgotten our manners?”
“The crash,” puffed Sigmund Berli. “Laffen Sørnes died, as you’ve no doubt heard. But the other…”
He gasped for breath, bent over slightly, and pressed his palms against his knees.
“The other… the man in the other car…”
“Sit down, Sigmund.”
Adam pointed to the other chair.
“Jesus Christ, the other one was… Karsten Åsli!”
Adam felt like his heart had short-circuited. Everything stopped. He tried to focus, but his eyes were locked onto Sigmund’s chest. His tie was tucked in between two buttons on his shirt. It was far too red, with birds on it. The tail of a yellow goose stuck out from an opening on his chest. Adam didn’t even know if he was still breathing.
“Did you hear what I said?” Sigmund shouted. “It was Karsten Åsli who crashed with Laffen! If you’re right, that means that Emilie…”
“Emilie,” Adam repeated. His voice gave way; he tried to cough.
“Karsten Åsli is about to die too! If you’re right, how the fuck are we going to find Emilie, Adam? If Karsten Åsli has forgotten her and decides to log off for good?”
Adam got up from the chair slowly. He had to support himself by holding onto the edge of the table. He had to think. He had to focus.
“Sigmund,” he said, in a more normal voice. “Go to the hospital. Do everything you can to get the man to talk, if at all possible.”
“He’s unconscious, you idiot!”
Adam straightened up.
“Yes, I realize that,” he said pointedly. “That’s why you have to be there, in case he wakes up.”
“And you? What are you going to do in the meantime?”
“I’m going to go to Snaubu.”
“But you’ve got no more on the guy than you did yesterday, Adam! Even though Karsten Åsli has been seriously injured, you can’t just break into his property without a warrant!”
Adam pulled on his jacket and looked over at the clock.
“I don’t care,” he said calmly. “Right now, I don’t give a damn.”
SIXTY-SIX
Aksel Seier was amazed at how at home he felt in the small room where Eva lived. The walls were a warm yellow color, and even though the bed was metal and it said Oslo City Council on the bedclothes, it was still Eva’s room. He recognized a couple of things from the efficiency apartment in Brugata, where she’d cleaned the wound on the back of his head with iodine that night in 1965. The pale blue porcelain angel with open wings and remnants of gold paint that she’d been given for her confirmation. He remembered it as soon as his fingers stroked the cool figurine. The painting of Hovedøya at sunset that he’d given her. It was hanging above the bed, the colors paler than when he had put down fifteen kroner on the counter in a secondhand shop and taken the picture with him, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
Eva had also faded.
But she was still his Eva.
Her hand was old and destroyed by illness. It was as if her face had been worn out, its expression frozen in a relentless grimace. Her body was now just a motionless shell around the woman that Aksel Seier still loved. He didn’t say much. It took some time for Eva to tell him the story. She had to rest every now and then. Aksel kept quiet and listened.
He felt at home in the room.
“He changed so much,” said Eva quietly. “Everything went to pieces. He didn’t have enough money to pursue the case. If he used what was left of the inheritance from Mother, he would have nowhere to live. And then he certainly wouldn’t stand a chance. It killed him, Aksel. He hasn’t even been to see me for the past few months.”
Everything would be okay, Aksel soothed her. He had taken out his credit cards. Platinum, he explained, holding the shiny piece of plastic up to her eyes. These cards were only given to the wealthy. He was wealthy. He would straighten everything out.
Everything would be okay, now that Aksel had finally come.
“I could have come earlier.”
She just hadn’t asked him to. Aksel knew that; it wasn’t possible to come to Norway before Eva wanted him to. Even though she hadn’t really invited him now, there was a plea for help in what she wrote. The letter came in May, not in July like it should have. It was a desperate letter, and he had answered her by leaving everything behind and coming home.
Aksel drank some juice from a large glass that was standing on the bedside table. It tasted fresh. It tasted of Norway, black currant syrup and water. The real thing. Norwegian juice. He dried his mouth and smiled.
Aksel heard something and half turned around. Fear blasted through his body. He let go of Eva’s hand and balled his fist without being aware of it. The policeman with the keys and watery eyes, the one who wanted Aksel to admit to something he had not done and who had haunted him in his dreams had worn a different uniform. More old-fashioned, perhaps. This man had a loose jacket and a black and white checkered band around his trouser legs. But he was a policeman. Aksel saw that immediately and looked out the window.
“Eva Åsli?” asked the man, coming nearer.
Eva whispered that she was. The man cleared his throat and came even closer to the bed. Aksel caught the smell of leather and car oil from his jacket.
“I’m sorry to tell you that your son has been in a serious accident. Karsten Åsli. He is your son, isn’t he?”
Aksel got up and straightened his back.
“Karsten Åsli is our son,” he said slowly. “Eva’s and my son.”
SIXTY-SEVEN
Johanne trudged the streets without knowing where she was going. A bitter wind whistled between the tall buildings in Ibsenkvartalet and she vaguely registered that she was on her way to the office. She didn’t want to go there. Even though she was freezing, she wanted to stay outdoors. She picked up her pace and half decided to visit Isak and Kristiane. They could go for a walk out on Bygdøy, all three of them. Johanne needed it now. After nearly four years of sharing responsibility for Kristiane, she had gotten used to the arrangement. And when she missed Kristiane too much, she could just visit her at Isak’s. He appreciated it when she came and was always friendly. Johanne had gotten used to the situation. But getting used to something was not the same as liking it. She had a constant yearning to hold the girl, to hug her tight and to make her laugh. Sometimes the feeling was unbearably strong, like now. Usually it helped to reason that it was good for Kristiane to be with her father. That he was as important to her daughter as she was. That was the way it had to be.