‘OK, but then you ought to be allowed to blame your weak character on your genes as well.’
Harry smiled and a female student walking in the other direction misread it and smiled back.
‘Katrine’s sent me some photographs of the crime scene in Grünerløkka,’ Aune said. ‘What do you think about it?’
‘I don’t read about crime.’
The door to lecture theatre 2 stood open ahead of them. The lecture formed part of the syllabus for the final-year students, but Oleg had said that he and a couple of others in the first year were going to try to sneak in. Sure enough, the auditorium was packed. There were students and even a few of the other lecturers sitting on the steps and standing by the walls.
Harry walked up to the podium and switched the microphone on. Looked out at the audience. Found himself searching automatically for Oleg’s face. Conversation died away and silence settled on the room. The most peculiar thing wasn’t that he’d become a teacher, but that he liked it. That he, like most people usually regarded as taciturn and introverted, felt less inhibited in front of a gathering of demanding students than when the guy at the only open checkout in the 7-Eleven put a packet of Camel Lights down on the counter and Harry thought about repeating his request for ‘Camels’, before noticing the restlessness of the queue behind him. Sometimes, on bad days when his nerves were twitchy, he would actually walk out with the Camel Lights, smoke one and throw the rest of the pack away. But here he was in his comfort zone. Work. Murder. Harry cleared his throat. He hadn’t found Oleg’s face, always so serious, but he had spotted another one he knew well. One with a black patch over one eye. ‘I see that some of you must be here by mistake – this is a level-three course in detective work for final-year students.’
Laughter. No one showed any inclination to leave the room.
‘OK,’ Harry said. ‘I’m afraid anyone who’s here for yet another of my bone-dry lectures on how to investigate murders is going to be disappointed. Our guest lecturer today has been an adviser to the Crime Squad Unit in Police Headquarters for many years, and is Scandinavia’s foremost psychologist in the field of violence and murder. But before I give the floor to Ståle Aune, and because I know he won’t give it back voluntarily, can I remind you that there’s going to be a fresh cross-examination next Wednesday? ‘The devil’s star’ investigation. As usual, the case description, crime-scene reports and interview transcripts are all on the intranet. Ståle?’
Applause broke out and Harry walked towards the steps, as Aune swaggered up to the podium with his stomach out and a contented smile on his lips.
‘Othello syndrome!’ Aune declared, then lowered his voice when he reached the microphone. ‘Othello syndrome is another term for what we call morbid jealousy, and it’s the motive for most murders in this country. Just as jealousy is in William Shakespeare’s play Othello. Roderigo is in love with General Othello’s new bride, Desdemona, while the sly Iago hates Othello because he feels he was overlooked when the general didn’t appoint him as his new lieutenant. Iago sees a chance to advance his own career by destroying Othello, so with Roderigo he sows discord between Othello and his wife. And Iago does this by planting a virus in Othello’s brain and in his heart, a lethal and tenacious virus that comes in many guises. Jealousy. Othello gets sicker and sicker, his jealousy causes epileptic attacks, leaving him shaking on the stage. Othello ends up killing his wife, and finally he kills himself too.’ Aune tugged at the sleeves of his tweed jacket. ‘The reason why I am telling you the plot is not because Shakespeare is part of the curriculum here at Police College, but because you need a bit of general education.’ Laughter. ‘So what, my unjealous ladies and gentlemen, is Othello syndrome?’
‘To what do we owe this visit?’ Harry whispered. He had gone to stand at the back of the lecture theatre next to Mikael Bellman. ‘Interested in jealousy?’
‘No,’ Bellman said. ‘I want you to investigate this latest murder case.’
‘Then I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey.’
‘I want you to do what you’ve done in the past: lead a small team that works in parallel to and independently of the larger investigative team.’
‘Thanks for the offer, Chief, but the answer’s no.’
‘We need you, Harry.’
‘Yes. Here.’
Bellman let out a laugh. ‘I don’t doubt that you’re a good teacher, but you’re not the only one. Whereas you happen to be unique as a detective.’
‘I’m through with murders.’
Mikael Bellman shook his head with a smile. ‘Come off it, Harry. How long do you think you can hide yourself away here, pretending to be something you’re not? You’re not a herbivore like him down there. You’re a predator. Just like me.’
‘The answer’s still no.’
‘And it’s a well-known fact that predators have sharp teeth. That’s what puts them at the top of the food chain. I see Oleg’s sitting down near the front. Who’d have thought he’d end up at Police College?’
Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in warning. ‘I’ve got the life I want, Bellman. I can’t go back. My answer’s final.’
‘Especially as a clean record is an essential prerequisite to being admitted.’
Harry didn’t respond. Aune harvested more laughter, and Bellman chuckled too. He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, leaned in and lowered his voice a bit more. ‘It may be a few years ago now, but I’ve got connections who would swear on oath that they saw Oleg buying heroin that time. The penalty for that is a maximum of two years. He wouldn’t get a custodial sentence, but he could never become a police officer.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Not even you would do that, Bellman.’
‘No? It might look like shooting sparrows with a cannon, but it really is very important to me that this case is solved.’
‘If I say no, you have nothing to gain by ruining things for my family.’
‘Maybe not, but let’s not forget that I … what’s the word? Hate you.’
Harry looked at the backs of the people in front of him. ‘You’re not the sort of man who lets himself be governed by his feelings, Bellman, you don’t have enough of them for that. What would you say when it came out that you’d been sitting on this information about Police College student Oleg Fauke for so long without doing anything about it? There’s no point bluffing when your opponent knows what bad cards you’re holding, Bellman.’
‘If you want to stake the boy’s future on the fact that I’m bluffing, go ahead, Harry. It’s just this one case. Solve it for me, and all the rest will disappear. You can have until this afternoon to give me your answer.’
‘Out of curiosity, Bellman – why is this particular case so important to you?’
Bellman shrugged. ‘Politics. Predators need meat. And remember that I’m a tiger, Harry. And you’re only a lion. The tiger weighs more and has even more brain per kilo. That’s why the Romans in the Coliseum knew a lion would always be killed if they sent it out to fight a tiger.’
Harry saw a head turn round down towards the front. It was Oleg, smiling and giving him the thumbs up. The lad would soon turn twenty-two. He had his mother’s eyes and mouth, but his straight black hair came from the Russian father no one remembered any longer. Harry returned the thumbs up and tried to smile. When he turned back to Bellman, he was gone.
‘It’s mostly men who are afflicted with Othello syndrome,’ Ståle Aune’s voice rang out. ‘While male murderers with Othello syndrome have a tendency to use their hands, female Othellos use knives or blunt instruments.’
Harry listened. To the thin, thin ice on top of the black water beneath him.
‘You look serious,’ Aune said when he came back to Harry’s office from the toilet. He drank the last of his coffee and put his coat on. ‘Didn’t you like my lecture?’