'Itwas a more grandiose plan than that. I want my revenge, he said. But hedidn't say what he was avenging, apart from his mother's suicide. It's a bitodd, though, that stabbing his father wasn't enough for him. Ingrid Jespersenhad nothing to do with what happened to his mother. What would he be avengingby hurting her?'
'Aneye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,' Tove suggested.
Gunnarstrandasighed: 'But he had his revenge when the old boy lay dead on the floor, didn'the?'
'Wheredid Kirkenær go in the years after the war?' Tove asked.
'Frommwent to Paraguay after the war, as lots of the top German Nazis did. He set upa newspaper.'
'Amalieand the child?'
'Accordingto Iselin Varås, Kirkenær's wife, Kirkenær grew up in Paraguay, Germany andNorway.'
'InNorway?'
'Yes,Amalie's mother was from Tønsberg – the Kirkenær family.'
Thepoliceman's mobile phone hummed in the pocket of his coat in the hall.
Gunnarstrandastruggled to his feet. He exchanged looks with Tove as he took out the phone.'Please be brief,' he said with a yawn.
'Kirkenærwill live,' Frølich informed him. 'His condition is stable and he's out ofdanger.'
'Well,that's something.'
'Do youthink we've got our man, boss?'
'We'llhave to hope so. Why's that?'
'Well,after the hostage drama went out on radio, a witness came forward and said hewanted to change his statement.'
Chapter 49
FrankFrølich sat down in front of the computer screen and watched Heat on DVD- the long sequence where Val Kilmer and Robert de Niro shoot their way out ofa police trap like commandos while Al Pacino, the cop, runs like a lame goatfiring single shots from his automatic. He had the same feeling he always didwhen he watched the film; it had nothing to do with him not liking Pacino, butalongside de Niro and Kilmer he wasn't cool enough. At the same time itirritated Frølich that he supported the crooks every time he saw the film. Heshould have been writing a report on his interviews with Sjur Flateby andothers, but he wasn't in the mood, and since he wouldn't be able to go home foranother couple of hours yet, he made use of the computer's DVD player to givehim the requisite sense of relaxation.
Somethingin the atmosphere made him lift his head and glance towards the door.Gunnarstranda was standing in the doorway. Frølich paused the film. He shovedback his chair, away from the computer table.
'There'slight at the end of the tunnel, Frølich.'
Frølichdidn't answer.
'IngridJespersen says Kirkenazr was searching for something.'
'Inher flat? What?'
'Ihave a suspicion I know what,' Gunnarstranda murmured. 'But it might take an houror two,' he went on. 'We need a scanner and a good photo-editing program.'
Frølichstood up.
'This,'Gunnarstranda said, showing him the photograph of a German soirée towards theend of the war. 'The first time I saw this I knew there was something familiarabout it.'
'Aface?' Frølich suggested.
'Maybe.At any rate, there is something in this photo that a voice inside me tells me Ishould subject to a closer examination.'
Twohours later Frølich had scanned in four photographs of a German party atBrydevilla during the war. He had printed them several times, rotated them onthe screen, made them brighter, darker, improved the contrast and magnifiedthem.
'Ican see it's the same woman,' Frølich said, pointing to Amalie Bruun. 'But whatdo you actually want me to do with this?'
Gunnarstrandadidn't answer straight away. He sat looking at the original photograph whichshowed Klaus Fromm in uniform, chatting casually to an unidentified person on asofa.
'Iwant you to magnify it one more time.'
'Tocheck out the lady?'
'Allof them. I want to have a closer look at the men,' Gunnarstranda explained,chewing his lower lip in consternation. 'Him in particular,' he added, pointingto Fromm.
A furtherhour later they sat with a pile of prints in front of them. Some looked likenon-figurative shadow painting and experimental art. Black mists and grey huesgave way to white expanses with scattered, tiny, black dots.
'Remindsme of the Rorschach test,' Frølich said.
'Hm,'Gunnarstranda brooded.
'That'sthose inkblots forensic psychiatrists show their clients. They show one ofthese blots and if the guy thinks it looks like Queen Elizabeth's genitals, thenhe has got long-term impaired mental faculties and gets off.'
'Exactly,'Gunnarstranda said, miles away.
'Thetest's called Rorschach after some Swiss guy, I think…'
'Him,'Gunnarstranda exclaimed, pointing to Klaus Fromm again. 'I want you to enlargethis fellow, as sharp as possible.'
'What'sthe point? All you can see is grey porridge and inkblots.'
'Tryanyway.'
'Tenmore times,' Frølich said and moved the mouse up and across the image of Fromm.
'Stopthere,' Gunnarstranda said, excited. 'Back.'
'Whatis it?'
'Back,slowly.'
Frølichobeyed. They saw an X-ray like silhouette of the man's shoes, trousers, hishands resting on his lap. 'There, yes,' said Gunnarstranda.
Frølichwas lost. They were looking at a mass of grey with dark shadows.
'Canyou enlarge it any more?'
'I'lltry.'
TheWindows hour-glass stayed on the screen until the greyish black mass ofindefinable contours returned.
'Yes!'Gunnarstranda said in a reverential whisper. He was shaking with excitement. Healmost dropped the lighter as he lit his roll-up. 'Look,' he whispered,pointing to the screen.
'Ican't see anything.'
'Yes,you can.
'Butwhat am I supposed to be looking at?'
'Atthe picture.' Gunnarstranda held a quivering finger in front of one of the darkpatches on the screen. 'Look at that, the medal. Can you remember seeing itbefore?'
'No.'
'Havea closer look.'
Frølichstared. 'I give up,' he said at length.
Gunnarstrandabeamed. 'So near and yet so far,' he teased, not without arrogance. 'Print outwhat's on the screen anyway.'
Frølichobeyed.
Gunnarstrandastood up and held the paper as it slowly hummed its way out of the printer.
'So,what do we do now?' Frølich asked.
Gunnarstrandawaved the print-out. 'Aren't you curious?'
Frølichgave a measured nod.
'Ifyou have the inclination, and if you think you have the time, you can join me.'
'Where?'
'Bythe pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.'
Chapter 50
Hewas running. The car went into a skid. Past him. The boy couldn't stop,couldn't turn round. The car skidded round and blocked his way. The driver'sdoor was thrust open. Out jumped a young soldier with a grin. In his hands he washolding a machine gun. He smiled as he took aim. He smiled as he fired. The boyheard the bullets a hundredth of a second before the salvo rang out. By then hehad thrown himself to the side. He rolled down the slope. Knowing he hadn'tbeen hit. Sharp stones tore open his anorak and made his back bleed. Behind himhe heard the soldier, and a dog was barking. He crawled through a thornthicket. It hurt as the thorns scratched his face and hands. He lay on hisstomach behind and under an almost impenetrable mesh of thorny branches. Hisheart was pounding. He could hear the pounding inside his ears. The dog camedown the slope wagging its tail. It was an Alsatian. It was sniffing andwhining. And running round in circles. It started digging with its front paws. Thensuddenly it jerked back and let out a loud whimper. It growled and madesnapping movements in the air. The leaves rustled. Gravel and pebbles rolleddown the slope. The outline of the soldier filled out behind the thicket. Theboy held his breath. The dog went on its knees with a plaintive squeal. The manwith the machine gun turned and stared right at the place where the boy washiding. The dog fell on to its side. The soldier raised his gun and took aim.The gun barrel moved slowly from right to left. The soldier shouted at the dog,which was emitting low whimpers. The soldier spun round, ran over to the dogand cursed. A swarm of insects was buzzing around the dog. They were pouringout of a hole in the ground like a gush of water from an underground spring. Atthat moment the boy felt the first wasp sting on his face. The pain was intenseand it burned. He clenched his teeth so that he didn't make a sound. Thesoldier took three steps back from the dog and swore. He pointed the machinegun at the dog and fired. The volley was deafening. The dog's body shook. Theboy felt sick. The wasps were crawling over his face. Light, ticklish wasp feetwalking over his lips, his eyelids. He opened his eyes for an instant. A hordeof wasps was stinging him again and again through his anorak sleeve. Thesoldier with the machine gun waved his free arm to chase the wasps away.