Then they contacted the regular uniformed police and got hold of a patrol car to drive Oleg home.
The bleeping noise accompanying the traffic lights cut into the still night air as the couple crossed Uelands gate. The woman had obviously borrowed the man’s jacket and held it over her head. The man’s shirt was stuck to his body and he was laughing out loud. Harry thought there was something familiar about him.
The lights changed to green.
He caught a glimpse of red hair under the woman’s jacket before the couple passed out of sight.
When they passed Vinderen, it suddenly stopped raining. Like curtains on the stage, the clouds slid away and a new moon shone on them from a black sky over Oslo fjord.
‘At last,’ Moller said, turning round in the front passenger seat with a smile.
Harry assumed he was referring to the rain.
‘At last,’ he answered, without taking his eyes off the moon.
‘You’re a very brave boy,’ Moller said, patting the boy’s knee. Oleg gave a wan smile and looked up at Harry.
Moller turned round again and kept his eyes forward on the road ahead.
‘My stomach pains have gone,’ he said. ‘Vanished into thin air.’
They had found Oystein Eikeland in the same place that they took Sven Sivertsen. In the custody block. According to ‘Griever’ Groth’s papers, Oystein had been brought in by Tom Waaler on suspicion of driving a taxi while drunk. The blood sample he had given had in fact also shown some evidence of alcohol. When Moller ordered that Eikeland was to be released and that all formalities were to be dropped, ‘Griever’ Groth, surprisingly enough, had no objections. On the contrary, he was unusually obliging.
Rakel was standing in the doorway as the police car swung onto the crunching gravel of the drive in front of her house.
Harry leaned across Oleg and opened the door. Oleg jumped out and ran towards Rakel.
Moller and Harry stayed in the car and watched the two of them silently hugging each other on the steps.
Moller’s mobile phone rang and he raised it to his ear. He said ‘Yes’ twice and ‘Right’ once and rang off.
‘That was Beate. They’ve found a bag full of cycling equipment in the refuse bin in the yard at Barli’s place.’
‘Mm.’
‘It’s going to be hell,’ Moller said. ‘They’re all going to want a chunk of you, Harry. Akersgata, NRK, TV2. Foreign press as well. Just imagine, they’ve heard about the Courier Killer in Spain. Well, you’ve done all that stuff before, so you know how it goes.’
‘I’ll survive.’
‘I suppose you will. We’ve got some footage of what happened in the student place last night, too. I just wonder how Tangen managed to set up the recording in his bus on Sunday afternoon and then forget to switch it off and catch the train home to Honefoss.’
Moller studied Harry’s face, but Harry remained impassive.
‘And, on top of that, what a stroke of luck that he’d just wiped the hard disk so that there was enough space for several days’ recording. Incredible actually. You could almost think that it had been planned beforehand.’
‘Almost,’ Harry mumbled.
‘There’s going to be an internal inquiry. I have contacted SEFO and informed them about Waaler’s activities. We are not discounting the possibility that this case may have ramifications for the Force. I have the first meeting with them tomorrow. We’ll get to the bottom of this, Harry.’
‘Fine, boss.’
‘Fine? You don’t sound very convinced.’
‘Well, are you?’
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
‘Because you don’t know who you can trust, not even you.’
Moller blinked twice, but failed to get an answer out; he flashed a glance across to the policeman sitting behind the wheel.
‘Can you wait for a second, boss?’
Harry got out of the car. Rakel let go of Oleg and he disappeared through the door.
She had her arms crossed in front of her chest and her eyes fixed on his shirt as he stood before her.
‘You’re wet,’ she said.
‘Well, when it rains…’
‘… I get wet.’ She smiled sadly and laid the palm of her hand against his cheek.
‘Is it over now?’ she whispered.
‘It’s over for now.’
She closed her eyes and leaned forwards. He took her in his arms.
‘He’ll manage OK,’ he said.
‘I know. He said he wasn’t afraid. Because you were there.’
‘Mm.’
‘How are you?’
‘Fine.’
‘And it’s true? It’s all over?’
‘Over.’ He mumbled into her hair. ‘Last day at work.’
‘Good,’ she said.
He could feel her body coming closer, filling all the small spaces between them.
‘Next week I start the new one. That’ll be good.’
‘The one you got via a pal?’ she asked, putting her hand on his neck.
‘Yes.’ The smell of her filled his head. ‘Oystein. Do you remember Oystein?’
‘The taxi driver?’
‘Yes. The exam for the taxi driver’s licence is on Tuesday. I’ve been mugging up street names in Oslo every single day.’
She laughed and kissed him on the mouth.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
‘I think you’re crazy.’
Her laughter rippled like a little brook in his ears. He wiped a tear off her cheek.
‘I have to go now,’ he said.
She tried to smile, but Harry saw that she wouldn’t be able to.
‘I won’t manage,’ she blurted out before the sobs shook her voice.
‘You’ll manage,’ Harry said.
‘I can’t manage… without you.’
‘That’s not true,’ Harry said, pulling her close. ‘You can manage very well without me. The question is: Can you manage with me?’
‘Is that the question?’ she whispered.
‘I know you’ll have to think about it.’
‘You don’t know anything.’
‘Have a think first, Rakel.’
She tilted back her head and he held the arch of her spine. She contemplated his face. Looking for changes, Harry thought.
‘Don’t go, Harry.’
‘I’ve got a meeting. If you like, I’ll drop by early tomorrow morning. We could…’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t know. I have no plans. Or ideas. Does that sound OK?’
She smiled.
‘That sounds perfect.’
He looked at her lips. Hesitated. Then he kissed her and left.
‘Here?’ the policeman behind the wheel asked, looking in the mirror. ‘Isn’t it closed?’
‘Twelve till three in the morning on workdays,’ Harry said.
The driver pulled into the kerb outside the Boxer.
‘Are you coming too, boss?’
Moller shook his head.
‘He wants to talk to you on his own.’
Serving had long since finished and the last guests were in the process of leaving the bar.
The head of Kripos was sitting at the same table as on the previous occasion. His deep eye sockets lay in shadow. The beer in front of him was almost finished. A crack opened in his face.
‘Congratulations, Harry.’
Harry squeezed his way in between the bench and the table.
‘Really good work. But you must tell me how you worked out that Sven Sivertsen was not the Courier Killer.’
‘I saw a photo of Sivertsen in Prague and remembered that I’d seen a photo of Wilhelm and Lisbeth in the same place. On top of that, forensics examined the remains of the excrement under…’
The Chief Superintendent leaned across the table and placed his hand on Harry’s arm. His breath smelled of beer and tobacco.
‘I don’t mean proof, Harry. I mean the idea. The suspicion. Whatever made you link the clues with the right man. What was the moment of inspiration? What was it that made you formulate the thought?’