Death In Oslo

XXV

‘So, let me just sum up,’ Adam said. ‘So there’s no misunderstandings.’He ran his fingers through his hair, then turned the chair round before sitting down so his stomach was against the back of it. He was balancing a red felt pen between his index finger and his thumb.

‘You were rung by a man you’ve never met before.’

Gerhard Skrøder nodded.

‘And you don’t know where he’s from or what he’s called.’

Gerhard shook his head.

‘Nor what he looks like, obviously.’

The arrestee scratched his neck and looked at the table, embarrassed.

‘It wasn’t exactly a video phone.’

‘So.’ Adam spoke with exaggerated slowness and put his hands over his face. ‘You’re sitting here saying that you took a job from a man you have only spoken to on the phone and you don’t even know his name. Someone you’ve never met.’

‘It’s not that unusual, that.’

Ove Rønbeck, his lawyer, twitched his hand in warning.

‘I mean, it’s not so strange…’

‘Yes, I think it is. What did he sound like?’

‘Sound like?’

Gerhard wriggled back on his chair like a teenager who’d been caught taking liberties with a reluctant girl.

‘What language did he speak?’ Adam asked.

‘He was Norwegian, I think.’

‘I see,’ Adam said, and let out a long breath. ‘So he spoke Norwegian?’

‘No.’

‘No? So why did you come to the conclusion that he was Norwegian?’

Rønbeck raised his hand and opened his mouth, but immediately sat back in his chair again when Adam turned to face him.

‘You have a right to be here,’ he said. ‘But don’t interrupt. I don’t need to remind you how serious this case is for your client. And for once I’m not actually that interested in Gerhard Skrøder. I just want to know as much as possible about the anonymous man who gave you the job.’

He screamed this at Gerhard, who pulled back even more. His chair was right up against the wall now, so there was no room to tip it, as he normally did. His eyes were evasive, so Adam leant forward and pulled off his cap.

‘Did your mother not teach you that boys should take their hats off indoors?’ he asked. ‘Why did you think the man was Norwegian?’

‘He didn’t speak proper English, like. More like… with an accent.’

Gerhard was scratching his crotch furiously.

‘You should go to the doctor about that,’ Adam said. ‘Stop it.’

He got up and went over to a cabinet by the door. He picked up the last bottle of mineral water, opened it, and drank half in one go.

‘Do you know what?’ He suddenly laughed. ‘You’re so used to lying that you don’t know how to tell a story properly, even when you’ve decided on it yourself. Talk about occupational injury.’

He put the bottle down and sat on the chair again. With his hands folded behind his neck, he leant back and closed his eyes.

‘Carry on,’ he said calmly. ‘As if you were telling a fairytale to a child, if it’s at all possible for you to imagine something like that.’

‘I’ve got two nephews,’ Gerhard told him curtly. ‘I bloody know what kids are like.’

‘Good. Excellent. What are they called?’

‘Huh?’

‘What are your nephews called?’ repeated Adam, with his eyes still closed.

‘Atle and Oscar.’

‘OK, I’ll be Atle, and Rønbeck over there can be Oscar. Now tell us what happened when Uncle Gerhard got a paid job from a man he’d never met.’

Gerhard didn’t respond. He was poking at a hole in his camouflages.

‘Once upon a time,’ Adam started. ‘Come on. Once upon a time, Uncle Gerhard…’

‘… got a phone call,’ said Gerhard.

There was silence.

Adam made a circular movement with his hand.

‘… from an anonymous number,’ Gerhard continued. ‘It didn’t show up on the display screen. I answered. The man spoke English. But it was as if… as if he wasn’t English, like. He sounded kind of Norwegian… in a way.’

‘Uhuh,’ encouraged Adam.

‘There was something… weird about his language, anyway. He said that he had a really easy deal to offer and that there was loads of dosh to be had.’

‘Can you remember if he said “dosh” or something else?’

‘Money, I think. Yes. Money.’

‘And this was on…’ Adam leafed through his notes, ‘the third of May,’ he said, and looked askance at Gerhard, who gave a faint nod and continued to pull at the hole in his trousers. ‘Tuesday the third of May, in the afternoon. We’ll get a printout of your log so we can check the time.’

‘But, it’s-’

‘You can’t-’

Rønbeck and his client protested at the same time.

‘Take it easy, take it easy!’ Adam groaned in exasperation. ‘Your telephone log is the least of your problems right now. We’ll come back to that. Carry on. You’re not very good at telling stories. Now concentrate.’

The lawyer and Gerhard exchanged glances. Rønbeck nodded.

‘He said that I should keep the sixteenth and seventeenth of May clear,’ Gerhard mumbled.

‘Keep them clear?’

‘Yes. Not make any plans. Stay sober. Be in Oslo. Available, like.’

‘And you didn’t know the man who rang?’

‘No.’

‘But you still said that was fine. You would drop the biggest street party of the year because a stranger phoned and asked you to keep the day clear. Well, well.’

‘It was the money. It was a lot of bloody money.’

‘How much?’

There was a long pause. Gerhard grabbed his cap and almost by reflex was about to put it on when he changed his mind and laid it back on the table. He still didn’t say anything. He was staring at the hole in his trousers.

‘OK,’ Adam said eventually. ‘We get the amount later. What more were you told?’

‘Nothing. Just that I should wait.’

‘For what?’

‘A phone call. On the sixteenth of May.’

‘And did you get one?’

‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘In the afternoon. Can’t remember exactly. Around four, maybe. Yes, just after four. I was going to meet some mates in Grünerløkka for a beer before the match. Vålerenga versus Fredrikstad at Ullevål. The guy rang just before I went out.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Nothing really. He just wanted to know what I was up to.’

‘What you were up to?’

‘My plans for the evening, like. If I’d stick to the arrangement. That I wouldn’t drink and all that. Then he said that I had to be home by eleven at the latest. He said it would be worth it. That it would pay well. So I…’

He shrugged, and Adam could have sworn that he blushed.

‘I had a beer or three with the boys, watched the match and went home. The score was nil-nil, so there wasn’t much to celebrate anyway. Was home before eleven. And…’

His discomfort was tangible now. He scratched his shoulder under his sweater and rolled his buttocks from side to side on the chair. His right thigh was shaking noticeably and he was blinking continuously.

‘Then he rang. About eleven o’clock.’

‘What did he say?’

‘I’ve told you a thousand times. How long do we have to carry on with this?’

‘You’ve told me twice before. And I want to hear it for a third time now. What did he say?’

‘That I should be up by the clock tower at Oslo Central Station a few hours later. At four a.m. I was to stand there until a man came with a woman and then we would all go over to a car and drive away. The route would be left in the glove compartment. With half the money. And then they all lived happily ever after.’

‘Not quite yet,’ Adam stated. ‘Didn’t you think there was something odd about the job?’

‘No.’

‘You’re told to drive around southern Norway with two passengers you don’t know, and to make sure that you’re noticed by the staff at various petrol stations, but to avoid being seen on the security cameras. You don’t have to do anything else, don’t need to steal anything – just drive around. And eventually park the car in a wood near Lillehammer and take the train back to Oslo, and then forget the whole thing. And you thought that was all hunky-dory?’

‘Yep.’

‘Don’t “yep” me, Gerhard. Get a grip. Did you know either of the other two? The woman or the other man?’

‘No.’

‘Were they Norwegian?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘No, we didn’t speak.’

‘For four hours?’

‘Yeah. I mean, no. We didn’t say anything the whole time.’

‘I don’t believe you. That’s not possible.’

Gerhard leaned forward over the table. ‘I swear. I said a word or two to them, but the guy just pointed at the glove compartment. I opened it and there was a note lying there, like the man on the phone had said. Telling me where to drive and things like that. It also said that we shouldn’t talk. Fine, I thought. Fuck it, Stubo, I’ve told you all there is to tell. For Christ’s sake, you’ve got to believe me!’

Adam held his hands over his chest and wet his lips with his tongue. His eyes were trained on Gerhard.

‘Where is that note now?’

‘It’s in the car.’

‘And where is the car?’

‘Like I’ve said a thousand times, in Lillehammer. Just by the ski jump, where there’s a-’

‘It’s not there. We’ve checked.’

Adam pointed at a memorandum that a policeman had come in with ten minutes earlier.

Gerhard shrugged indifferently. ‘Someone’s taken it then,’ he suggested.

‘How much did you get for the job?’

Adam had fished out a cigar case from his shirt pocket and was rolling it between his palms. Gerhard remained silent.

‘How much did you get?’ Adam repeated.

‘Doesn’t really matter,’ Gerhard replied sullenly. ‘I’ve not got the money any more.’

‘How much?’ Adam persisted.

As Gerhard continued to stare defiantly at the table without any sign of answering, Adam got up. He went over to the window. It was starting to get dark. The window was dirty. The sill was covered in dust and peppered with dead insects.

A small village had mushroomed between the police HQ and the prison. A couple of the foreign television stations had driven their OB trucks on to the grass, and Adam counted eight marquees and sixteen different media logos before giving up. He gave a friendly wave, as if he’d seen someone he knew. He smiled and nodded. Then he turned round, continued to smile, walked round to the arrestee’s side of the table, and bent over him. His mouth was so close to Gerhard’s ear that the other man pulled away.

Adam started to whisper, fast and furious.

‘This is highly irregular,’ protested Rønbeck, the lawyer, half standing up in his chair.

‘A hundred thousand dollars,’ Gerhard said. He was almost shouting. ‘I got a hundred thousand dollars!’

Adam patted him on the shoulder.

‘A hundred thousand dollars,’ he repeated slowly. ‘I guess I’m in the wrong business.’

‘There was fifty thousand in the glove compartment, and then I got the same amount from the guy when we were done. The man who was in the car with me.’

Even the lawyer had difficulty in hiding his dismay. He slumped back into the chair and gave his jaw a somewhat frantic rub. He looked like he was trying to think of something sensible to say, but couldn’t. So he rummaged around in his pockets instead and found a sweet, which he popped in his mouth as if it were a tranquilliser.

‘And where’s the money now?’ Adam asked, his hand still resting on Gerhard’s shoulder.

‘In Sweden.’

‘In Sweden. I see. Where in Sweden?’

‘Don’t know. I gave it to some guy I owed money.’

‘You owed someone one hundred thousand dollars?’ Adam asked with exaggerated emphasis. His grip on Gerhard’s shoulder was becoming increasingly firm. ‘And you have already managed to pay your creditor back. When did you do that?’

‘This morning. He turned up at my place. Bloody early, those boys there – the ones from Gothenburg – they’re not to be-’

‘Hang on a minute,’ Adam said and put up his hands in a sudden exasperated movement. ‘Stop. You’re right, Gerhard.’

The arrestee looked up. He seemed smaller now, dishevelled and obviously tired. His disquiet had translated into a noticeable tremble and his eyes were wet when he asked in a feeble voice: ‘Right about what?’

‘That we should keep you with us. It seems there’s a lot more to unravel. But someone else can do that. You need a rest, and certainly…’ the clock on the wall showed a quarter past nine, ‘I do, too.’

He gathered up his papers and tucked them under his arm. The cigar case had fallen on to the floor. He looked over at it, hesitated, and let it stay there. Gerhard Skrøder got up stiffly, and willingly followed the police officer who had been called, down to his cell.

‘Who pays a hundred thousand dollars for a job like that?’ Rønbeck asked in awe as he packed his things. He seemed to be talking to himself.

‘Someone who has unlimited resources and who wants to be one hundred per cent sure that the job is done,’ Adam replied. ‘Someone who has so much capital that he doesn’t need to worry about how much things cost.’

‘Frightening,’ Rønbeck said. His face was tense and his mouth looked like the slot in a piggy bank.

But Adam Stubo didn’t respond. He had taken out his mobile to see if there were any missed calls.

There were none.