Bjarne takes out the photographs of Remi’s childhood bedroom in Jessheim. His parents haven’t changed it much over the years. The few times Remi stayed the night, he always slept in it. And the picture of his dead brother on the wall always kept him company.
Bjarne can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like to grow up with Werner’s eyes resting on him every time Remi went to sleep. According to Remi’s mother, his father always blamed Remi for his brother’s death.
Bjarne is happy and exhausted and should be heading home, but he walks down the corridor and knocks on the door to Ella Sandland’s office. She calls out ‘enter’ and smiles at him as he does.
‘Hi,’ she says.
‘Hi. Fancy a beer?’
Bjarne can see that she is about to say ‘no’ out of habit, but she surprises him by hesitating before she replies.
‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Just you and me, is it, or are any of the others coming?’
‘Everyone else has gone home.’
Sandland nods.
‘Okay,’ she smiles.
And Bjarne, who has been waiting to hear her say this for as long as he has known her, smiles and completely fails to disguise the excitement in his voice:
‘Great! See you in five minutes?’
Henning is still standing in the archway, trying to calm himself down. A man glances at him as he walks past, but only for a second then he is gone.
Slowly Henning makes his way back to the street. A gust of wind whistles towards him, but he is too preoccupied to feel the touch of autumn it brings. Cars go past him at a snail’s pace looking for spaces to park, but Henning doesn’t see them. He just wanders along, pondering, while pebbles, cigarette butts and rubbish crunch under his shoes.
The people who threatened Andreas Kjær were from Eastern Europe. Now that could mean any number of countries, but it’s a beginning. Tore Pulli was going to reveal what he knew about whoever started the fire in Henning’s flat, but before he could do it, he was killed – a murder that was arranged by a man who had long been in cahoots with East European criminals.
Ørjan Mjønes.
Could he also be behind the threats against Kjær?
Chapter 91
The car brakes slowly as if the driver is trying to make the moment last.
Trine knows the perks will disappear now that she is no longer Justice Secretary. She will miss the car in particular. And the driver.
Trine finds his eyes in the rear-view mirror.
‘Thank you so much, Bjørn. It’s been great sitting here with you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says.
He sends her a pale smile. But instead of prolonging the agony, she steps out into an evening where drifting clouds liven up the darkening sky above her. She realises that she is already longing for tomorrow.
As she expected, several journalists have gathered outside her house, but this time she isn’t intimidated by them. She holds up her head and nods to some, refusing to let herself be distracted by the questions they call out. She just aims for the door where Pål Fredrik is waiting for her as usual.
And perhaps none of this would have happened if she had told him the truth in the first place. She would have been able to convince him, wouldn’t she?
Neither of them ever thought she would be able to get pregnant. They had tried for years without success. But then one day, she discovered she was. And she didn’t really know what happened, but suddenly she no longer wanted a child. The child became much more concrete. A new life. She didn’t know if she would be able to do it, if she would be a good mother. If Pål Fredrik had known then what he knows now about Trine’s family, perhaps that wouldn’t have been so hard to understand.
But she knew that Pål Fredrik desperately wanted to be a father and she robbed him of that chance. Without ever consulting him.
Now he takes her jacket, as he so often does, being the gentleman that he is. In a way she dislikes it, it makes her feel like a guest in her own home. And she is more than a guest. Or at least she wants to be.
He ushers her into the living room where music from hidden loudspeakers fills the room. But it is music for other, more cheerful occasions, so she switches it off and steels herself before she turns to face him.
Bjarne Brogeland and Ella Sandland arrive at Asylet. The café is always busy on Thursday evenings, but Bjarne manages to get them a table for two near the fireplace. He orders two beers and folds his hands on the table while he tries to make eye contact with Sandland. Her eyes keep slipping past him, out into the room.
‘Hey,’ Bjarne says and smiles. ‘That’s my occupational hazard.’
‘What is?’
‘Being on the lookout for villains.’
‘Ah.’
Sandland is embarrassed and laughs.
‘Always on the job?’ he asks.
‘Always.’
A waiter brings their beers.
‘Are you hungry?’ Bjarne asks her.
He realises that he wants to keep her to himself for as long as possible, but Sandland shakes her head. Bjarne nods to dismiss the waiter who disappears immediately.
Silence descends on the table. Sandland takes a sip from her glass, sends her gaze on a new voyage of discovery before she suddenly turns it on him.
‘So – who will be our new Justice Secretary, do you think?’ she asks.
Bjarne shrugs.
‘It makes no difference to me. It won’t affect how I do my job.’
‘But the way she resigned was really very odd.’
Bjarne makes a ‘whatever’ gesture with his head while he thinks about Trine Juul-Osmundsen, his teenage crush.
‘She can’t have been a particularly good boss,’ Sandland declares.
‘No, perhaps not,’ Bjarne says quietly.
‘Sexual harassment in the workplace,’ Sandland goes on and looks at him. ‘I’ve got a friend in the force who was the victim of that. It was fairly low-key, but still very upsetting. Looks, comments, whispers and gossiping behind her back.’
Bjarne suddenly feels the need to undo the top button of his shirt.
‘And she told her boss, but you think he did anything about it?’
Sandland shakes her head before Bjarne has time to answer.
‘A good manager would have done something,’ she says, without taking her eyes off him. ‘A good manager nips that kind of thing in the bud.’
And now, for the first time, it is Bjarne’s turn to look away. He seeks refuge in his beer where the foam clings to the inside of the glass. He doesn’t know what to say next so he looks across the room. An early Thursday evening. Life and laughter. Good times.
Sandland raises her glass towards him.
‘But cheers,’ she says and smiles her most dazzling smile at him. Bjarne returns her toast and empties his glass.
A word has formed in his mouth when he looks at her again.
But he can’t get it past his lips.
Friday
Chapter 92
Henning wakes up with a jerk, not entirely sure where he is. Then he recognises the walls of his living room, the ceiling, the matchbox and the Coke can on the table next to the sofa. And before he has opened his eyes properly, it comes back to him, the events of the last five days, everything he has found out. The past has risen like a multi-headed hydra and it bites and snaps at him from all sides.
Henning looks at the clock on his mobile and sees that much of the day has passed already. Fortunately he agreed with Heidi Kjus last night that he can come into the office late today. So he takes a long shower while he makes up his mind to deal with one question at a time. If the East Europeans who terrified the living daylights out of Andreas Kjær have links to Ørjan Mjønes, then someone must know who they are. As long as I get a name, Henning thinks, then I’ll be able to track them down.