‘You already know. He did him in — they say. They’ve been here too, the plods, of course.’ She gazed into the distance as if to recreate an image for her inner eye. ‘He came here late on Sunday night.’
‘Really, last Sunday?’
She nodded. ‘ I just wanted to talk to him, he said, completely out of his mind. Who? I asked. Hammersten! But he was dead and couldn’t tell me anything. I asked what had happened. And then he looked at me in despair: It wasn’t me, not this time either! But no one’ll believe me! — Yes, they will, Jan Egil! I said. No one! It’ll be just like last time, he answered. And that was when he suddenly changed tone: But I’ll kill them, every one of them! And then he reeled off the names of all the people he would get.’
‘And that was when he mentioned me?’
‘Yes, you and…’
‘Were there several on the list?’
‘Yeah, yeah… but right now I can only remember you.’
‘Jens Langeland, what about him?’
‘The solicitor?’
‘Yes, was he on the list?’
‘No, no, no. Course not! He’s still his solicitor and has always helped him.’
‘But he said that… it wasn’t him this time, either?’
She nodded silently. I looked at her. The tiny boy had gone to sleep against her breast. For some reason a refrain from a Beatles song went through my head: Lady Madonna, children at your feet — wonder how you manage to make ends meet…
Our eyes met. I said: ‘Tell me… where did he go after dropping in here?’
‘On Sunday?’
‘Yes.’
Her eyes wandered off. ‘Dunno. He didn’t say anythin’ to me.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes!’
‘Silje… If he gets in touch, then…’ I took out one of my business cards, wrote my mobile phone number on the back and pushed it over the table to her. ‘Ask him to ring me on this number. I’ve got my mobile with me at all times. Say I have to talk to him. Tell him I can help him.’
She studied the card with no interest. ‘Might do. Best to leave it like that, I think.’
‘Just ask him to get in touch. Say it’s important.’
‘Tell me… are you so keen to die? Are you in such a hurry?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I am. Enough people have died in this case already. It has to stop at some point.’
‘In this case?’
‘In this case, yes.’ I could feel the fury rising in me. ‘Haven’t you understood? Haven’t any of you understood? Everything is connected, right from the very first moment. You, of all people, should think about that…’ I shifted my focus down from her face. ‘You with a little baby to take care of.’
Again our eyes met, hers defiant and moist, mine smouldering with anger.
‘Right!’ I stood up. ‘I can’t do much more for you just now, Silje.’
She didn’t move from the sofa. ‘You’ve done more than enough! Out with you! I never want to see you again! Never!’
‘Wonder where I’ve heard that before?’ I mumbled under my breath as I buttoned up my jacket and made for the door. There, I turned and sent her a last glance. Who finds the money when you pay the rent? Did you think that money was heaven sent?
She was deliberately ignoring me. I shrugged and left.
Out on the street, the sun’s rays angled over Iladalen. My eyes fell on the church with its famous spire.
All of a sudden, the doors on both sides of a parked dark grey Volvo swung open. Two men got out and rushed over to me. I knew who they were long before they displayed their badges. They were classic undercover police in leather jackets and jeans, with two-day old stubble on their chins and hair down their necks.
‘What was the name?’ one asked.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Show us some ID,’ the other demanded.
I sighed out loud, rummaged for my driver’s licence and passed it over.
One studied it closely. The other had his eye held firmly on me.
‘Veum? Varg Veum?’
‘You can read, I see.’
‘Would you mind accompanying us to the police station?’
‘Would it make any difference if I refused?’
‘No.’
‘So, what are we waiting for? Let’s get it over with. The sooner, the better.’
49
Inspector Anne-Kristine Bergsjo was sitting behind a large desk with fingertips pressed against each other and a sour glare behind the frameless glasses. Her hair was a little shorter than I remembered it, but her clothes were just as conservative: a plain white blouse, nice blue culottes and a tailored grey jacket. A classic blonde of the competent variety.
She was wearing a trademark smile with tight lips curled at the corners, almost like a cartoon character. ‘Varg Veum, private eye,’ she said with biting acerbity. ‘I had hoped I would never see you again.’
‘That’s a hope I never shared, I’m afraid.’
She raised her eyebrows sceptically. ‘You didn’t?’
‘We had such a cosy time when we last met, didn’t we?’
‘No, we didn’t. Unless I’m much mistaken you brought death and destruction last time, too. I hope you’re not on the same mission now.’
I splayed my hands. ‘To tell the truth, I hadn’t been considering a courtesy visit to the police station, either. It was these colleagues of yours who absolutely insisted.’
She sighed. ‘You were observed leaving a flat we’re holding under surveillance. Could you first tell me what you were doing there?’
‘If you could give me a good reason.’
She looked at her telephone. ‘Of course we could send you down to the basement and let you mull over the question there for a few hours.’ She looked up again. ‘But it would be so much more enjoyable if we could resolve this in a friendly atmosphere, don’t you think?’
‘Over a drink maybe?’
She forced a wry smile. ‘Coffee?’
‘From the machine you have in the building? No, thank you.’
Her expectant gaze lingered.
‘Well, I can’t see any reason not to… I was visiting a woman called Silje Tveiten. She has a child with a former client of mine.’
She leaned forward. Her eyes were alert and direct, her eyelashes unmoving. ‘Jan Egil Skarnes was a client of yours? When was that?’
‘While I was still in social services. Twenty-one years ago.’
‘Uhuh. I see.’
I gave her a rundown of my life with Jan Egil, from when he was three years old until my last sighting of him in court, a good ten years ago, and why I was in Oslo this time.’
‘He was going to kill you?’ She looked at me, her eyes disbelieving. ‘She didn’t tell us that.’
‘I suppose she didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.’
‘Maybe not.’ She looked at me seriously. ‘I’m going to have to give you a warning, Veum.’
‘A warning?’
‘Or, to be more precise, I have to warn you.’
‘I understand the difference.’
‘You’re mixing with the fringes of a nasty group of individuals. They’re dangerous.’
‘Dangerous people? What are you talking about? Jan Egil?’
‘I’m afraid to say that we’ve observed him several times in what I would call bad company since he was let out on parole. I can tell you in confidence that he’s been very close to being banged up again.’
‘Right! On what grounds, if I might ask?’
She eyed me coldly. ‘Tell me… Do you know that organised crime is on the up in this country, Veum? Especially in the capital.’
‘I’ve had an inkling.’
‘Whether you’re on the inside or outside does not matter much. You’re part of the set-up anyway. Reports we’ve received from Ullersmo suggest that during his incarceration Jan Egil Skarnes nurtured close links with a very unsavoury bunch based here in Oslo. He’d been on our radar several times before he was released.’
‘Before he was released? What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Mm… It’s not at all unusual for inmates out on leave to be used to carry out jobs. They have a kind of alibi, at least at first. We don’t always check who’s on leave or not when there’s a robbery, someone is beaten up or something even more serious.’