But there was a window in the room that was now wide open. Just as I charged into the room, I heard a thud on the ground below. The drop was no more than ten feet. Through the window I saw someone in a raincoat, with the hood up and gloves on, struggle to their feet and then run up the slope behind the house.
I tasted blood and my hunting instinct was stronger than ever. Only seconds later I hit the ground myself, and fortunately managed to stay on my feet.
XV
‘STOP!’ I shouted as soon as I had regained my balance from the jump, and fired a warning shot into the air over the head of the raincoated person.
This made no difference. The person in front did not even turn their head, let alone slow down. For a second I lowered the gun and aimed at the running legs. But at the last moment I remembered the order to use firearms only in situations where it was strictly necessary, or in self-defence. The fact that it was not a service weapon hardly made the situation any better. So instead I started to run up the slope. There was a fair distance between us now. However, it seemed to me that the person ahead was not running at a speed that made this discouraging. And the pace did not get any faster as the slope got steeper.
For some reason that was wholly inexplicable to me, I started to think about the deceased Leonard Schelderup as I chased after Synnøve Jensen’s killer. In my mind, I was back at Bislett Stadium, watching him audaciously catch up with all his competitors until, only yards from the finishing line, he overtook the final one. It felt as though Leonard was showing me the way in the dark, running in front on his light feet, his fair hair fluttering on the wind, as I pursued the person I assumed was his murderer up the slope. We were getting steadily closer.
I had almost halved the distance between us when the person up ahead reached the top and I got even closer when they stumbled and almost fell as the ground levelled off. Even though it was dark, I could see that the person was smaller than me, and thought gleefully to myself that I would easily catch up with them once I too reached the top.
That was when I heard a sound that made me swear out loud into the night: the impatient revving of a car engine starting up.
I reached the brow of the hill in time to see the car disappear. Synnøve Jensen’s murderer was still impressively cool-headed. He or she drove with the pedal to the floor and without lights. What I saw was the movement of the car as it rounded the farthest bend into the dark.
I found two unclear tyre tracks where the car had been parked, under the shadow of some trees where the ground flattened out. The footprints of the person I had been chasing were very light and would soon be washed away by the rain. It looked as though the shoes were a good few sizes smaller than my own. Not that that helped much. I could not rule out any of the remaining guests on the basis of those tracks and an unclear picture of the person I had pursued.
I had never felt so alone and such a loser as I did around midnight on 15 May when I walked back through the dark night and rain to the body of Synnøve Jensen. I had only been a matter of feet away from her murderer and from solving the whole mystery, but had failed to use the chance either to grab hold of the murderer or to discover their identity.
XVI
I called Patricia as soon as I was back in Synnøve Jensen’s house. She picked up the phone on the second ring and I thought I detected a light sigh of relief when she recognized my voice. I told her quickly what had happened since we last spoke. She exclaimed that I should have shot the murderer in the foot, but added hastily that I of course could not do that, given my orders. I agreed with both statements. She suggested that I should come to see her as soon as I could the following day, and assured me that she would be happy to welcome me any time between seven in the morning and midnight.
Right then I heard sirens and footsteps outside, so I wished Patricia a good night and put down the telephone. It was only later that I realized I had forgotten to ask her who she now thought had sent the mysterious threatening letters.
The case was becoming more and more of an obsession and my adrenaline levels were rising. Even though it was now past midnight, I could not leave the scene of the crime where Synnøve Jensen had been killed until the place had been searched.
The only thing we found of any significance was in the pocket of Synnøve Jensen’s coat – but the discovery was so sensational that my thoughts dwelt on it until I finally fell asleep around two. But the only conclusion I came to was that I had to talk to Patricia as early as possible the next morning.
DAY SEVEN: Satellites in Fast Motion
I
‘So, what do you think we found in the late Synnøve Jensen’s coat pocket?’
It was five past seven in the morning of Friday, 16 May 1969. I had slept for no more than five hours, and then jumped into the car without eating breakfast. A clearly sleepy Beate had just put down a selection of rolls on the table at 104-8 Erling Skjalgsson’s Street. Patricia was sitting opposite me with a cup of steaming black coffee, wearing only a dressing gown, as far as I could see. However, she was looking at me with eyes that were as bright and alert as ever, and answered in her usual sharp tone.
‘A letter very much like the last one you received in the post. I have to admit that I cannot remember the exact words, but I would be very pleased to know.’
I pulled out the letter and almost threw it across the table in disbelief. The message was short, and that it resembled the last one I had received was undeniable.
Here, now.
So, the dictator’s sister has also gone.
More may follow, if you do not soon find out which one of us is doing wrong…
Patricia had read the text in a flash and then looked up at me again.
‘I only have one question, but it is a very important one. Was the envelope containing this letter sealed?’
‘The envelope was sealed, as it was with the other two letters, with the same typed address.’
I really did not understand the significance of the question. But Patricia obviously did, as she nodded with satisfaction and even uttered a quiet ‘ha!’
‘And-’ we suddenly both said at the same time. I stopped and let her finish.
‘And perhaps there was a small mark on the back of the sealed envelope? Not green this time, but most probably blue.’
‘Red,’ I told her, giving her an impressed nod all the same.
Patricia shook her head, obviously annoyed.
‘Hopefully just arbitrary. Red is less usual than blue, but a common enough pen colour that might be found in any office or home without drawing attention. And I must say it tallies very well with my theory. We are nearly there now, the case will soon be closed.’
I nodded, slightly in awe, but most of all in delight that we were close to anything.
‘In fact, I have every hope that I will have a solution in the course of the day. Certainly to some of these apparently inexplicable deaths and events. But for that to happen, you have to carry on doing all the things that can be done today, while I sleep, think and preferably put on a few more clothes.’
I nodded and helped myself to a roll. Seeing the plate of food had reminded me how hungry I was.
‘I will do. And I suppose I should talk to the surviving guests before we meet again? I had thought of gathering them all at a meeting at Schelderup Hall to fill them in on our progress so far, no matter how unpleasant that might be.’
Patricia nodded and finished her coffee. She suddenly looked as though she had got up too early.
‘A splendid idea. I had thought of suggesting that myself. It could be very interesting to see who says what once they are together again. And let me know immediately if any more letters pop up. Now, is there anything else I can help you with before you go?’