‘I’m afraid that might be a little unpopular.’
‘OK. I’ll have to sweet-talk Thomas then.’
‘Your son?’
‘Yes, he’s still at university. I’ll have to take my chance with the corner of his sofa.’
She smiled. ‘Then everything’s okay?’
‘Not everything, perhaps.’
‘No, you’re right. Not everything.’
We hovered over Oslo in a slow glide, the Royal Palace on our right with Karl Johans gate like a filthy grey carpet edged in green rolled out from the palace steps right down to the central railway station, then Frogner Park, the tree tops autumn-dappled, before landing with a cautious little bump in Fornebu, which would soon be signing off as an Oslo airport. We were let out of the plane in single file, and it wasn’t long before we were sitting on the bus bound for Oslo town centre.
She looked at me with a frown. ‘How are you going to tackle this, Varg?’
‘Somehow I’m going to have to find Jan Egil before he finds me.’
‘You realise that could be dangerous though?’
‘Yes. But what’s the alternative? Sitting on my arse in Bergen and waiting for him to appear, with or without baseball bat?’
‘I have to show my face at work, but… where will you make a start?’
‘First I’ll drop off my bag at Thomas and Mari’s. Afterwards, I’d like to find out a bit more about the murder. Is Hansie the right person to contact?’
‘He can show you round the hospice anyway. Whether you’ll be allowed to go into the flat, I have no idea.’
‘Doubt it.’
‘Just a mo…’ She opened her handbag, took out a wallet and produced a little business card. ‘This is Hans’s card. It’s got his mobile number and so on.’
‘Great. Thanks. And yours?’
‘OK, I can write my number on the back.’ She fished out a biro from her bag and jotted it down.
I took the card, checked the number was legible, nodded and stuffed it in my inside pocket. We got off at the National Theatre, and we stood on the pavement for a moment. She was serious. ‘Take great care, Varg!’
‘I’ve been in tight spots before,’ I said. ‘Even in Oslo.’
She nodded and gave me a quick hug before leaving. Then she headed towards the Town Hall. After phoning first to see if anyone was at home, I took a taxi to Frydenlundgata, where Thomas and Mari had moved since I was last in Oslo.
I rang the doorbell and Thomas came to the intercom before I had finished ringing. Then the door lock buzzed. I walked up the stairs to the second floor of the large block. He was in the doorway waiting. He had hardly said hello before adding: ‘Would have been good if you could’ve given us some notice before appearing on the doorstep. I’m supposed to be at a lecture now.’
I smiled an apology. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, but this came up with no warning. And I don’t have a client paying for it either, so…’
He nodded indulgently. ‘Could you sleep on the sofa again? Course you can. Come on in!’
They had moved from one room and a kitchen in Bislett to three rooms, kitchen and a bathroom close by St Hanshaugen. Thomas gave me a quick run-through on the amenities, fetched a spare key from the bedroom and said we could convert the sofa into a bed when I was ready. I nodded thanks and he hurried off to university, on his bike in the wonderful autumn weather.
As soon as I was alone, I called Hans Haavik.
‘Varg! So you decided to pop over… did Cecilie contact you?’
‘Yes. Once again it’s about Jan Egil.’
‘The eternal problem child, Johnny boy.’
‘I hear you’re in the same business?’
‘Yes, but this is on a private basis now, Varg, and with no other ambition than to help with the little I can. It was tough getting over all the things that happened then, up in Sunnfjord.’
‘And it’s not finished yet, it seems.’
‘You’re referring to…’
‘Yes, the murder. Jan Egil. And it happened at your hospice, I gather?’
‘Yes, it’s terrible.’
‘Do you mind if I come round?’
‘To the hospice? Not at all. No problem.’
‘Have you got access to the room where it happened?’
‘Not in principle.’
‘In principle?’
‘Yes, no one has taken the key off me. But we can talk about that when you’re here. Have you got the address?’
‘Yes, Cecilie gave me your card.’
‘Right. Well, see you there then… at one o’clock. Is that OK?’
‘Should be alright.’
We said goodbye and rang off. I took the spare key with me and left the flat.
47
I took what I had worked out to be the shortest route to Toyen. From Ullervalsveien I went up Akersbakken to Gamle Aker church and from there down Telthusbakken with all its wooden houses. In the allotments by Maridalsveien there were some Oslo-ers of foreign extraction preparing their herb beds for winter. I crossed the River Akerselva on the footbridge by Kuba and made my way through the Grunerlokka area. At the terrace restaurant by Olaf Ryes plass the tables were packed with a motley bunch of people, some with half-full beer glasses in front of them, others with infants on their laps and a coffee cup at an arm’s length. In Hallen’s dress shop on the corner of Thorvald Meyers gate it was as if time had stood still since 1950. They displayed dresses for mature women in an interior so worthy of preservation that the Central Office for Historical Monuments must have been a regular customer there.
I crossed up to Jens Bjelkes gate and stayed in that street, passing the Grabein flats, named after their tight-fisted builder, and the Botanical Gardens. After passing Sorli plass and the sad remains after the clearance of what had once been Enerhaugen I was at my journey’s end, Eiriks gate.
The straight stretch between Jens Bjelkes gate and Akerbergveien consisted of four-storey apartment buildings painted rust-red and off-yellow, many of them embellished with exquisite details on the facade, arches over the windows and classic columns under the roof overhang. At the end of the street was the Police HQ in Gronland, like a massive barrier facing Bjorvika, with so many windows that it gave me the acute sensation that I was under surveillance. And I was not at all sure that this was a good sensation.
It was now five minutes past one. Spotting me from a black Mercedes parked on the opposite side of the street, Hans got out. He crossed and gave me a firm handshake and a broad, good-natured smile by way of a welcome. ‘Nice to see you, Varg. You haven’t bloody changed an ounce.’
‘Mm,’ I said, running my hand through my grizzled hair. ‘Nor you.’
‘Oh no? Not a bit bigger maybe?’
He might have been right. Hans had always been a well-built fellow. Now he had added a few extra kilos and was on the verge of appearing overweight. His hair was thinner, but the smile was as broad as it always had been, and the bitter purse of his lips I thought I could remember from Forde had been erased. Now there was an expression of real concern on his face as soon as the initial polite formalities had been exchanged.
‘It’s a helluva story, Varg! The boy must’ve been born under an unlucky star.’
‘Have you kept in regular touch with him? While he was inside, I mean.’
‘No, no. Not at all. But I’ve got a notice on the Salvation wall, and some time in May he suddenly showed up here to ask if I had a room for him. I think he was just as surprised as I was when he saw me in reception.’ He turned towards the house. It was one of the yellow ones, and relatively recently decorated. ‘I have a little office here on the ground floor where I administer the whole thing. Porter, bookkeeper, spiritual adviser — just like in the old days.’
I looked up at the house front. ‘But you own it?’
‘I do.’
‘You must have come into some money.’
All of a sudden he seemed almost ashamed. ‘It was the… inheritance, you know.’
‘You inherited it?’
‘No, no… My God, Varg! The damned farm in Angedalen… It turned out Kari and Klaus had left it in their will, to me of all people!’