The Redeemer

'Hello, old boy. Lost in thought?'

Harry looked up. It was Halvorsen.

'Thinking about kings,' Harry mumbled, taking the cup of coffee that the young detective passed him.

'Well, there's the new guy,' Halvorsen said, pointing.

By the table of presents there was a man in a blue suit talking to the Chief Superintendent and Bjarne Moller.

'Is that Gunnar Hagen?' Harry said with coffee in his mouth. 'The new PAS?'

'They're not a Politiavdelingssjef any more, Harry.'

'No?'

'POB. Politioverbetjent. They changed the names of the ranks more than four months ago.'

'Is that so? I must have been sick that day. Are you still a police officer?'

Halvorsen smiled.

The new POB seemed agile, and younger than the fifty-three years it said he was in the memo. More medium-tall than tall, Harry noticed. And lean. The network of defined muscles in his face, around the jaw and down his neck suggested an ascetic lifestyle. His mouth was straight and firm and his chin stuck out in a way you could either designate determined or protruding. The little hair Hagen had was black and formed half a wreath around his pate; however, it was so thick and compact you might be forgiven for thinking the new POB had a rather eccentric choice of hairstyle. At any rate the enormous, demonic eyebrows boded well for the growing conditions of his body hair.

'Straight from the military,' Harry said. 'Perhaps he'll introduce reveille.'

'He was supposed to have been a good copper before switching pastures.'

'Judging from what he wrote about himself in the memo, you mean?'

'Nice to hear you being so positive, Harry.'

'Me? I'm always keen to give new people a fair chance.'

'A being the operative word,' Beate said, joining them. She flicked her short blonde hair to the side. 'I thought I saw you limping as you came in, Harry?'

'Met an overexcited guard dog down at the container terminal last night.'

'What were you doing there?'

Harry studied Beate before answering. The job of head in Brynsalleen had been good for her. And it had been good for Krimteknisk, too. Beate had always been a competent professional, but Harry had to admit he hadn't seen obvious leadership qualities in the self-effacing, shy young girl when she went to the Robberies Unit after Police Training College.

'Wanted to have a look-see at the container where Per Holmen was found. Tell me, how did he get into the area?'

'Cut the lock with wire cutters. They were beside him. And you? How did you get in?'

'What else did you find?'

'Harry, there is no suggestion that this is-'

'I'm not saying there is. What else?'

'What do you think? Tools of the trade, a dose of heroin and a plastic bag containing tobacco. You know, they poke the tobacco out of the dog-ends they pick up. And not one krone, of course.'

'And the Beretta?'

'The serial number has been removed, but the file marks are familiar. A gun from the days of the Prince.'

Harry had noticed that Beate refused to let the name of Tom Waaler pass her lips.

'Mm. Has the result for the blood sample arrived?'

'Yep,' she said. 'Surprisingly clean, hadn't shot up recently anyway. So conscious and capable of killing himself. Why do you ask?'

'I had the pleasure of communicating the news to the parents.'

'Ooooh,' Lonn and Halvorsen said in unison. It was happening more and more often even though they had been together for just two years.

The Chief Superintendent coughed and the gathering turned towards the table of presents and the chatter subsided.

'Bjarne has requested permission to say a word or two,' the Chief Superintendent said, rocking on his heels and pausing for effect. 'And permission was granted.'

Chuckles all round. Harry noticed Bjarne Moller's tentative smile to his superior officer.

'Thank you, Torleif. And thank you and the Chief Constable for my farewell present. And a special thank-you to all of you for the wonderful picture you have given me.'

He pointed to the table.

'Everyone?' Harry whispered to Beate.

'Yes. Skarre and a couple of others collected the money.'

'I didn't hear anything about that.'

'They might have forgotten to ask you.'

'Now I'll distribute a few presents of my own,' Moller said. 'From the deceased's estate, so to speak. First of all, there is this magnifying glass.'

He held it up in front of his face and the others laughed at the ex- PAS's distorted features.

'This goes to a girl who is every bit as good a detective and police officer as her father was. Who never takes the credit for her work, but prefers to let us shine in Crime Squad. As you know, she has been the subject of research by brain specialists as she is blessed with the very rare fusiform gyrus, which allows her to remember every single face she has seen.'

Harry saw Beate blush. She didn't like the attention, least of all concerning this exceptional gift that meant she was still being used to identify grainy images of ex-cons on bank-raid videos.

'I hope,' Moller said, 'that you won't forget this face even though you won't see it for a while. And if you have cause to doubt, you can use this.'

Halvorsen nudged Beate in the back. When Moller gave her a hug as well as the magnifying glass and the audience applauded, even her forehead went a fiery red.

'The next heirloom is my office chair,' Bjarne said. 'You see, I found out that my successor Gunnar Hagen has put in for a new one in black leather with a high back and other features.'

Moller sent a smile to Hagen, who did not return it, but gave a brief nod.

'The chair goes to an officer from Steinkjer who ever since he came here has been banished to an office with the biggest troublemaker in the building. And forced to sit on a defective chair. Junior, I think it's time.'

'Yippee,' Halvorsen said.

Everyone turned and laughed, and Halvorsen laughed in return.

'And, to conclude, a technical aid for someone who is very special to me. He has been my best investigator and my worst nightmare. To the man who always follows his nose, his own agenda and – unhappily for those of us who try to get you to turn up on time for morning meetings – his own watch.' Moller took a wristwatch from his jacket pocket. 'I hope this will make you work in the same time frame as the others do. Anyway, I have more or less set it to Crime Squad clocks. And, well, there was a lot between the lines there, Harry.'

Scattered applause as Harry went forward to receive the watch with a plain black leather strap. The brand was unfamiliar to him.

'Thanks,' Harry said.

The two tall men embraced.

'I put it two minutes fast so that you're in time for what you thought you would miss,' Moller whispered. 'No more warnings. Do what you have to.'

'Thanks,' Harry repeated, thinking Moller was holding him for a bit too long. He reminded himself he had to leave the present he had brought with him from home. Fortunately he had never got round to ripping off the plastic cover of All About Eve.

5

Monday, 15 December. The Lighthouse.

Jone found Robert in the backyard of Fretex, the Salvation Army shop in Kirkeveien.

He was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed watching the guys carrying the bin bags from the lorry into the storeroom in the shop. They were blowing white speech bubbles which they filled with swear words in a variety of dialects and languages.

'Good catch?' Jon asked.

Robert shrugged. 'People happily give away their whole summer wardrobe so that they can buy new clothes next year. But it's winter clothes we need now.'

'Your boys use colourful language. Paragraph twelve types – doing social work instead of prison?'