Medusa

60

Friday 26 October

IT WAS 1.45 WHEN Axel passed Kongsvinger. The fuel gauge was dipping down into the red but he didn’t want to stop yet.

As he emerged from the valley around the River Glomma, the landscape changed. The road cut its way through kilometre after kilometre of thick pine forest. If he found her, what would their future be? He knew the answer, but couldn’t bear the thought. If you want to go on living with yourself, then you must do the right thing, he told himself, and it was as though the words came to him in his father’s voice. More than anything else Torstein Glenne had despised people who failed todo the right thing. Who ran off leaving others to face the music. The way he thought Brede always did. You must never bethat kind of person. His mother’s voice: Axel is his father’s son all right.

He drove past a lake that had to be Fallsjøen. Reached the village of Åmoen, swung in at the Esso station. It wasn’t a twenty-four-hour station and he stopped in front of the pump with the credit card slot. This is where you used to work, he thought as he flipped open the petrol cap and started to fill the tank. Maybe you still do work here. I’m right behind you and you don’t even know it.

He was thirsty. He found a tap on the wall at the rear of the building, slurped water from it. A waste bin stood on the corner. He picked out a container that had held windscreen cleaner, rinsed it out and filled it, got back into the car and looked again at the map. And the photo of the creosoted wall of the cabin that was up there in the forest somewhere. Driving on, he counted the farm tracks, turned off at the third. Åheim, it said on the sign.

He glanced down at the mileage. He’d driven nearly five kilometres since Åmoen. A forest track appeared on his right. It continued north-east and disappeared between the spruces. He followed the stony and pitted road for fifteen minutes. It made a sharp turn and climbed steeply. At the top of the rise the way was blocked by a barrier. He could see that it was firmly padlocked. He reversed down the hill. A couple of hundred metres before he reached a place where he could leave the car. He found the torch that Rita had put back in the glove compartment after he had borrowed it last time. Jogged back up to the barrier. If the police had been there before him they would have cut the lock. He called Sergeant Norbakk, got no answer, debated whether to wait for them. Miriam, he thought, and dismissed the idea.

The slope was even steeper on the other side of the barrier. At the top, the track swung round a small tarn. The sound of his footsteps against the soft ground broke the silence. And his breathing. His heartbeat. The cabin was behind a rise. He could only just see the outline, but he knew that was the place. When he reached it, he recognised the wall she’d been standing in front of in the photo, the brown-creosoted horizontal planking.

The door was locked. He switched on the torch and walked round the cabin. A couple of small windows on the sheltered side. He looked round for something to break one of them with. There was a small shed on the other side of the clearing. That was locked too, but the hasp holding the padlock was rusty and loose. He grabbed hold of it, managed to wrench it off, toppled backwards when it eventually gave. He shone the light into the darkness inside, saw a tall pile of logs and pulled one out. The pile started to collapse, something fell from the top of it. He twisted away, was hit by something big and heavy, tried to hurl himself out of the shed.

When he looked inside again, a dark shape was lying on the floor. He kicked at it. It didn’t move. A large, lifeless animal. A bear, he could see now. The eyes were glassy, the jaws open revealing sharp yellow teeth. The animal was stuffed and nailed to a stand. Two of the paws had been cut off. He pushed it to one side and picked up the log that had caused the woodpile to collapse. As he was about to go outside again, he noticed a trailer standing directly inside the door. It was collapsible, a child-trailer. It looked new, he registered as he hung the door back in place.

He broke a window in two places, opened the hasp, crawled inside, stood there and sniffed. Dust and resin, but mostly the odour of rotting food. He shone the torch around. Braided mats on the floor. It looked freshly varnished. Firewood piled in the fireplace. Pictures on two of the walls: a tarn, a sunset between the trees. A door leading into a small kitchen stood half open. A fridge that was closed but not turned on. A couple of cartons of sour milk on the shelves. No sign of any rotting food. By the back door he found a fuse box. It must mean the place had its own generator.

On the table in the main room was a map of the area and an envelope. It contained photos. He took them out, shone his torch on the top one. Miriam walking along a street in town. Next, one of the flat where she lived, taken looking up towards her window. The one after that showed a woman in a dark coat on her way out of a house. The woman was Cecilie Davidsen, the house the villa in Vindern. He flipped quickly through the rest. One of Miriam’s car with two people inside, the Nesodden ferry in the background. Then one of himself getting out of the car. The last one in the pile had been taken in a dark room. He could just make out his own face, in a bed. Next to him Miriam’s dark hair against a pillow. He threw the photos down on to the table.

Beyond the fireplace he found two doors. The nearer led to a bedroom with bunk beds. A cupboard in the corner stacked with woollen blankets. The second door was locked. There was something white lying in front of it. A vest. He straightened it out, recognised it at once, her name with the pink glitter lettering over the chest. It was covered in stiff yellowish patches.

He hurled himself against the locked door. It didn’t move.

– Miriam, he shouted into the gap. Pressed his ear to it and listened. No sound from within.

He took his mobile phone out again, again tried the sergeant’s number. He heard a phone ringing in the kitchen. Grabbing hold of the log he had placed on the table, he crept out, overwhelmed with a feeling he was on the point of being able to put into words. Then something happened behind him, a wave breaking, splintering the darkness and hurling him into a storm of light.

61

NINA JEBSEN OPENED the office door. It was only 7.15. She had had a restless night and woken early. After an hour of tossing and turning she had decided to get up and make better use of the time.

She spat out the day’s first Nicorette. The waste bin hadn’t been emptied and yesterday’s sticky deposits still clung to the plastic liner inside. She punched in her password and logged on. Here we go again, she thought in frustration. With the charge against Glenne dropped, they would now have to go through all the witness statements and documentation again. It reminded her of the snakes and ladders they used to play as children. Just before you reached home, you could trip and slide all the way back down to square one. She tried not to think of how many thousands of pages of documents relating to the case they had amassed thus far. Memories of the visit to the café yesterday afternoon kept coming back to her. This was what had kept her awake in the night. See you later, Arve, she’d said as they stood in front of the garage at the station, sounding more like an invitation than a salutation. He’d stepped closer to her and brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Twice, while looking into her eyes. At that moment she had thought, Now it’s going to happen. Then he said, See you and headed for the garage door, leaving her standing there with her insides on fire. But at the last minute he’d turned round and suggested they go out together again one of these days. Maybe have a drink or two.

Nina picked up a pen and wrote on a memo pad: Arve. Sat there looking at the name. She had always had neat handwriting. It suited his name. She opened a pack of chewing tobacco and navigated to the file on Miriam Gaizauskaite. She recalled something they had talked about yesterday. The victims’ ages. Paulsen fifty-six, Davidsen forty-six, Elvestrand thirty-six. Miriam had turned twenty-six three months earlier. Her stomach rumbled. She’d had no breakfast. In the desk drawer she found an apple and took a bite through the leathery skin. It was mealy inside, but she didn’t care… There was something else too. The first victim had been found in the Oslo marka, the second in Frogner Park, the third outside Miriam’s door. It was as if something was getting closer. She carefully read through Arve’s report again, noting with a smile that he had corrected the mistake she had alerted him to. Lived seven years in Norway, it now read. That first year she’d been at the folk high school near Sandane, in Nordfjord.

She closed the report and looked over the notes she had made herself since starting on the case. There was a vague feeling of having missed something. A piece of information, something she’d heard but not properly understood. She navigated to the report on the visit to the Reinkollen collective, not necessarily expecting to find it there. She heard footsteps out in the corridor and recognised them, spat out the tobacco and pushed the unsightly waste bin out of sight below the table. Arve always came early to work. If you twisted her arm, she would probably have admitted there were other reasons for her getting here before everyone else today, because she was most definitely not a morning person.

His office was a little further down the corridor, meaning he had to pass her door. It was ajar, but to make certain he knew she was there, she kicked at the waste bin and then swore. The steps stopped outside. There was a knock. She swivelled round in her chair.

– Hi, Nina. Having trouble?

– Not really, I just… tripped.

She didn’t say what it was she might have tripped over, sitting there at her desk like that.

– Yesterday was fun, he smiled.

The way he said it made her cheeks glow. He must have noticed. – Really enjoyed it, he added.

– Me too, she managed to say.

She pulled herself together, indicated his hand.

– Cut yourself, Arve?

He turned it over, saw what she was pointing to, on the outside of his wrist.

– Damn, I thought I’d wiped it all off. Had to clean a fuel injector in the car. He winked at her. – Not to worry, I’ll survive.

He looked paler than usual, drawn around the eyes.

– Sleep well? she asked solicitously.

– I wouldn’t say that. Feel as though my phone’s been ringing all night.

– Anything important?

He rubbed his bristly chin. The beard was much darker than the hair, she noticed.

– Among other things, several calls from a certain Axel Glenne.

Nina was curious.

– What did he want?

– Hard to say. He was babbling on about this medical student, something about letters someone had sent her. I think he’s playing a game with us. I had to convince him we were on our way with everything we had. I’ll tell you the rest at the morning briefing.

Don’t go yet, she thought, and it seemed to help, because he took a step closer.

– What are you up to, by the way? I never thought of you as an early bird.

He glanced at her screen.

– Åsnes county? I never heard any more about your trip up there.

She crossed one leg over the other. Again she was wearing the tight-fitting blouse. She noticed how his gaze passed over her breasts.

– Amazing number of trees, she sighed. – You’ve probably got no idea what a nightmare it is for a girl from Bergen to get lost in a place like that. You from the depths of the deep dark forest up there.

He smiled at her turn of phrase. Maybe he was thinking about sitting on her desk, close enough for her to touch his thigh through the trousers.

– Two expeditions in two weeks, she said brightly as she cleared away some papers. – Viken got lost and drove us up some dark little cul-de-sac. We came to a barrier and couldn’t turn round. Imagine it: alone with Viken in a deserted forest. Pretty scary, I can tell you. Felt like Little Red Riding Hood on her way to Grandmama. And the first trip was even worse. I ended up at some place called Reinvollen…

– Reinkollen.

– Yeah, that was it. Residential home for extraterrestrials suffering from mysterious illnesses.

He didn’t respond and it make her feel nervous. She began describing the trip in detail, talking about the old ladies who worked there, and that wizened creature in the wheelchair, an Egyptian mummy of indeterminate age. She told the story well, she noticed, and Arve smiled a couple of times in the course of her narrative.

– At one point I nearly jumped out of my skin. An enormous mongoloid giant suddenly appeared in the doorway. He stood in the middle of the floor and beat himself on the chest and bellowed: Oswald catch bear, Oswald catch bear. She imitated his performance. – But the old ladies didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. They sat down on the sofa with him and petted him and he quietened down after that.

Arve Norbakk nodded.

– They’re very good with him.

She pushed her chair back.

– Do you know…? Have you been there?

He looked at her for a long time. The expression in his eyes changed; they seemed to harden, and then open again. He leaned against the desk and smiled.

– Oswald is my brother, he said.

62

NINA STRUGGLED TO stay focused. She scrolled down through the report from the visit to Reinkollen, and then, again, the interview with Miriam Gaizauskaite. Arve had gone to his office, and no one else had arrived in the meantime. As she tried to read through the documents, she kept hearing herself making fun of Oswald. She bit her lip. She hadn’t felt so stupid for a long time. She’d apologised several times. Arve tried to laugh it off. Assured her that he didn’t take it personally. Enjoyed a good story. Things a lot worse than that got said and done. That it was ignorance, not malice. Are you sure you’re not mad at me? she’d asked repeatedly. Before he left, he stroked her hair. To reassure her, perhaps. Or for some other reason.

Before she could make up her mind about that, the phone rang. It was reception.

– I’ve got someone on the line who wants to talk to you. Says he’s a Catholic priest at a church here in Oslo.

Miriam, thought Nina. Without further ado she asked for him to be put through. The man introduced himself as Father Raymond Ugelstad, a Dominican friar.

– This is about Miriam, she said at once.

– Yes, said the priest. – She mentioned your name when she was here the other day. I believe you’ve spoken to her.

The voice was light and nasal. She imagined a stout elderly man, a monk in a brown habit.

– I’m ringing because I’m worried. Quite frankly, I think something might have happened to her…

Two minutes later, Nina knocked on Arve Norbakk’s door. It was a relief to get the chance to talk to him about what the priest had said. It would ease the embarrassment of their last conversation, might even remove it completely.

– I’ve just had a phone call. About Miriam.

She explained.

– We’d better check it out immediately, Arve responded. – I just tried to call her but she didn’t answer.

The door to Miriam Gaizauskaite’s flat was ajar. There was a bunch of flowers hanging on the door handle. Nina opened the little card that was tied to it with gold thread. When this is over… she read. She showed it to Arve, who had to lean against her to read the handwriting.

– I don’t like this, she murmured as she pushed the door open with the toe of her shoe. – Miriam?

Arve was standing right behind her.

– We ought to call for backup before we go in, Nina.

– We don’t have time for that. She had no objection to showing him that she could be decisive. – Backup in case of what? You think there’s a giant bear in there?

He laughed. – I can see you’re not the nervous type.

Nina peered into the living room. It looked pretty much as it had done the last time she was there. A few Pepsi bottles on the table, a pile of books. The alcove was empty, the bed made but the duvet rumpled.

– Miriam? she said again as she headed towards the kitchen.

Not there either. Washing-up was piled on the worktop. A plate on the table. Beside it an opened envelope and some photographs. She picked one of them up. It was Miriam. It had been cut in half, she noted as she turned it over. And the fourth will be… she read on the back.

Viken drummed on the tabletop. He was freshly shaved and his aftershave smelled different from the one he usually used. The neatly ironed white shirt was buttoned up well past the declivity in his neck. Nina knew that Finckenhagen and Jarle Frøen were being carpeted by the Chief Constable now that the charges against Glenne had been dropped. They were the ones who had to take the rap. More than anything the chief disliked it when people tried to shove the responsibility down through the ranks. And as soon as he was done with Finckenhagen, she had called Viken in and given him a carpeting of her own, which was a lot softer to stand on and didn’t seem to have made any particular impression on him. Viken was if anything even more obstinate, and what Nina and Arve had just told him about the finds at Miriam’s flat seemed to leave him more convinced than ever that he had been right. He put Nina in mind of a dog that never lets go once it has sunk its teeth into something.

– This is no time for being wise after the event, he said in a voice that seemed to leave the matter open to doubt. – I assure you that Finckenhagen knows exactly what I think. I asked for a man to be left on guard outside Miriam’s flat. I asked that a minimum of resources be left available to keep an eye on Glenne after we let him go. My words fell on deaf ears.

He glared, but Nina saw a glint of satisfaction in the grey eyes.

– You were supposed to be keeping an eye on her, he said, addressing himself to Arve Norbakk.

The sergeant was leaning in the doorway.

– I called her last night. Everything seemed to be in order. I asked her to keep my number handy and to get in touch instantly if something happened.

Viken raised a hand.

– You did what you could, Arve. I’m glad somebody knows what we’re trying to do here.

Norbakk’s response to being praised was inscrutable.

– And another thing, he said. – I had Glenne on the phone to me twice last night.

Viken raised his eyebrows.

– What did he want?

– He called the station the first time at about eleven, asked to speak to me personally. When I rang back, he told me what shits we were. I made the mistake of calling without blocking my number, and a few hours later he was there again, muttering away about Miriam. Still having a go at us. He didn’t sound completely sober. Or maybe he was on something else. He called another couple of times, but I passed up the chance to hear any more of his crap.

– Perfectly understandable, was Viken’s response. – Nina, I’m putting you in charge of the search for Miriam. Are all our reports on her up to date?

Arve Norbakk cast a glance in her direction.

– Just a couple of things I have to add, he said quickly. – I’ll do it straight away. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll get a printout from her mobile phone. And Glenne’s.

– Good. Jebsen, you find out when that bunch of flowers was sent, and by whom. I have my suspicions. Where’s Sigge?

– He called in, said Nina. – He’s at home, one of his kids is sick. Unless it was both of them. He’s going to try to get in later.

Viken’s bushy eyebrows reared up and faced each other like two hairy snakes about to copulate.

– What’s the matter with that bloke? he growled. – Hasn’t he got a wife?

The flowers had been sent from Flower Power in Majorstua on Wednesday evening at 6.40. Nina spoke to the florist on the phone. He thought he could remember the man who had made the purchase, a bouquet of nine long-stemmed roses. The description was vague, but it fitted Glenne.

Nina entered the information and thought about it. The delivery man had been there Wednesday evening. When no one answered, he had hung the flowers on the door. They were still there on Friday morning. But according to Arve, Miriam had been home when he called her yesterday evening. So why hadn’t she taken them inside?

Again she looked at what Arve had written about Miriam. There was something she hadn’t quite understood, and she knew it had to do with this report. Something Arve had said. She still couldn’t think what it was… She noticed that he hadn’t added the information about the engagement. She sat there, staring at the screen. Miriam had mentioned that the man she had been engaged to was someone she met in her first year in Norway. In other words, when she was attending the folk high school in Nordfjord. It would be possible to check the list of former pupils, but it was by no means certain that the fiancé had gone to the same school as her. It would be easier to ask someone who actually knew her.

During her interview Miriam had named two other students as her closest friends. Nina had made a note of their names. She looked them up in her notebook. Thought she should let Arve have them. Didn’t want him thinking she was taking over his job. That she thought he wasn’t doing it well enough. On the other hand, he had undertaken to check a mass of mobile phone calls and would have enough to be getting on with. He would thank her for it. Then she could remind her of their agreement. To have a drink together. Or two.

She was about to call directory enquiries when Viken burst in.

– Now we’ve got him, he trumpeted.

Nina had never seen him looking so elated.

– The photos you and Arve found in Miriam’s flat. They were covered in big juicy fingerprints. Want to guess whose?

It wasn’t hard to guess, but she didn’t want to spoil his surprise.

– Glenne, Viken said as calmly as he could. – Dr Axel Glenne.

Nina had the feeling of climbing aboard a merry-go-round that was already in full swing.

– He might be the one who sent them to her, she offered tentatively.

Viken drummed away on the door frame.

– I called Frøen. Nina, even he realises what this means.

Across his face were written the words: What did I tell you? All the more important, then, for her to tell him what she had found out.

– Miriam had a lengthy relationship after she arrived in Norway. She was engaged. I’m just trying to find out who the man was.

Viken gestured to her.

– That’ll have to wait. I need you for something else. We don’t have much bloody time. We’re going after Glenne now, with everything we’ve got.

63

OSWALD HAD BEEN restless all morning. He paced back and forth in the room making deep growling noises, and paid no attention to Signy Bruseter when she spoke to him. He hadn’t eaten, and she hadn’t been able to wash him. According to the night shift he’d been the same all night, wandering around restlessly, not getting a minute’s sleep. And of course, it affected Tora too. She sat there in her chair and never stopped whimpering. Several times Signy had been on the point of calling Mette Martin and warning her, but she decided to hang on until Åse Berit showed up. Åse Berit always managed to calm Oswald down, no matter how upset he was.

At a quarter past eleven, Signy heard the front door open and gave a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Åse Berit Nytorpet who came into the room, however, but a much older woman. A tiny, skinny little thing with permed silver hair and thick glasses.

– I heard things were a bit upside down here today so I came in earlier, she said.

Signy stared at her in surprise.

– Isn’t Åse Berit coming?

– Åse Berit’s off sick.

The old woman held out a withered, scrawny hand.

– I’m Ingeborg, she said. Ingeborg Damhaug. I used to work here before, worked here for years.

Signy smiled bravely. Åse Berit was so big and buxom you could take shelter behind her when Oswald was upset. But what use would this little bag of bones be?

– What’s the matter with Åse Berit?

The old woman sighed.

– It’s all just got too much for her. The police have been up there and turned their farm inside out. Even taken up the floor. Åse Berit’s nerves couldn’t stand it.

Signy looked down at her feet.

– Apparently there’s someone sneaking around the village telling tales on folk, Ingeborg sniffed with contempt. – Now, Oswald, what’s all this, walking up and down and not eating anything?

– Oswald catch bear.

– Right you are, cooed Ingebord. – I’m sure you can, but now you just come and sit down.

She put an arm around the giant resident and led him over to the dining table.

– Ingeborg catch bear, Oswald shouted, and the old woman burst out laughing.

– Yes, that’ll be the day, she chortled, wiping away the tears, and it looked as though Oswald was joining in her laughter.

She put milk on the table and Oswald drank it down in one gulp. She refilled the glass and buttered some bread, and he ate with a hearty appetite.

– Oswald and I are old chums, hummed Ingeborg. – Isn’t that right, Oswald?

– Oswald drive bus, he rumbled, his mouth full of bread and liver pâté.

After his meal, she took him by the hand and led him into his room.

– Now you just have a nice little lie-down, Oswald, you’ve been up and about all night.

– I’ve known Oswald since he was seven or eight years old, Ingeborg explained later as they sat at the table. – Oh, it breaks my heart to think about him, that lad.

Signy sipped at her coffee.

– Åse Berit told me his father used to lock him up in the cellar when he was a little boy. Surely that can’t be true?

Ingeborg shook her head and stared in front of her. Tora had fallen asleep in her chair, her head hanging down at an angle, drooling at the mouth. Ingeborg got up and wiped her face, placed a pillow under the bony chin.

– It’s true all right, she said. – I was working in child care at the time. It was a terrible business.

– But the father must have been a complete madman. Didn’t anyone say anything?

Ingeborg shot Signy a bleak look.

– That’s the thing that bothers me most of all, that we didn’t act sooner. We got several messages saying things were going to pieces up at old Norbakk’s, but it wasn’t until a member of the family rang and said we’d better get ourselves up there as fast as possible…

She bit at the pale strip of her underlip.

– It’s over twenty years ago now, but I’ll tell you this, Signy, it’s a sight I will never forget. Never.

– What happened?

Ingeborg sat for a while with her eyes closed. To Signy her eyelids seemed as sheer as tissue paper. It was as though the old woman were looking straight through them at her.

– We went to the cabin, up in the forest, she said at length, the eyes expressionless when she opened them again. – And what a mess when we got up there. Bottles everywhere, filthy clothes and unwashed dishes, a broken window so it was freezing cold inside. First off we couldn’t find the boys anywhere. Not until we went down into the cellar. They were locked inside, both of them. And there was Arve with his arms around Oswald, trying to keep him warm.

– Arve? wondered Signy.

Ingeborg took out a handkerchief and blew into it.

– Oswald’s older brother. They’d been sitting down there for days. The father had given them a bottle of water and tossed them a few crusts of bread before he took off.

– So then you did something?

– Oh yes. Young Arve was fostered with some people down in Lillestrøm. Oswald was taken into institutional care, and now he’s never had it so good. But we waited too long before doing anything… Well, the father was sentenced for child neglect. Served a few months. When he got out, he lived like an animal up in that cabin. Drank himself to death in the end.

Suddenly Ingeborg’s wizened face lit up.

– But I’ll tell you this, Signy, that Arve Norbakk is what they call a real superkid. It’s amazing how well he’s managed. Before we found foster parents for him, he was living with us, and I’ve been following his progress ever since.

She exposed a line of pearly white teeth that looked completely genuine.

– Always bright and positive, that Arve. The only thing that upset him was if someone said something bad about his father. Then he’d scream and carry on. If the police hadn’t locked his father up, according to Arve, he would never have drunk himself to death. He hated the police more than anything else. Not counting his mother, who’d left them. I was so worried about him. But then he calmed down, and he never spoke about either one of them again.

– My God, Signy exclaimed. – What could make a child say something like that?

Ingeborg sighed and looked at her watch.

– Well well, Signy, I suppose we’d better go in and wake Oswald, or he’ll be up all night again.

Signy jumped to her feet.

– Just you sit there.

She opened the door to Oswald’s room. A blast of wind struck her from the wide-open window. The bed was empty.

64

NOT UNTIL SHE’D started the car and Viken had jumped in beside her did Nina get round to asking where they were going.

Viken said: – Arve checked the list of calls to Glenne’s mobile phone. Somebody called him from a landline in Tåsenveien at three minutes past nine yesterday evening. The owner of the house is a Rita Jentoft.

– Jentoft? I’ve heard that name somewhere before… We interviewed her. I think it was Sigge.

– Correct. Fifty-two-year-old woman, born in Gravdal in Vestvågøy county, lived in Oslo for twenty-five years. Widowed for the last eight. Trained medical secretary. Now works at a certain clinic in Bogstadveien. No previous convictions. Want her income tax details?

– I get it, said Nina. – His secretary.

She stopped at the entrance to the driveway. A patrol had already arrived. Viken jumped out even before she turned the engine off. Two constables in uniform stood on the steps.

– No one answered when we rang the bell, one of them said. – The door isn’t locked but we were given orders to wait for you.

– The back, barked Viken.

– We’ve got a man there.

– Good. Then let’s go in.

He opened the door.

– Police! he shouted from the hallway.

Ten minutes later, they had established that the house was empty, from basement to loft.

The waiting room at the Bogstadveien medical centre was packed. A woman wheeled a pram back and forth in front of the reception desk. The child inside screeched and howled. The telephone ringing behind the counter sounded almost as angry, but there was no one there to take the call. Viken opened the glass side door and let Nina in front of him into a corridor. On the right was a door to a storage room with shelves full of hypodermic syringes and other items and equipment. Another door had Axel Glenne’s name on it. It was unlocked, the office within dark and empty. On the next door the sign read Inger Beate Garberg. Viken knocked and stepped inside in the same moment. A woman in a white coat turned towards him. Her long greyish hair hung in a braid down her back. On a bench behind her was a man with his legs drawn up. He was naked from the waist down.

– What’s going on here? the doctor shouted, pointing at Viken with her plastic-gloved finger. – You’ve no right to come barging in like this.

Viken mumbled a sort of apology. – Police, he explained. – Can we have a word with you? Now.

Dr Garberg came out into the corridor with them. She was half a head taller than Viken, and he looked a little ill at ease.

– Where is Rita Jentoft? asked Nina.

Dr Garberg rolled her eyes.

– In reception, I presume, or gone to the toilet, I have no idea.

– Have you seen Axel Glenne since yesterday evening? Viken wanted to know.

– No, the doctor seethed, – I have not seen him, and it’s about time you left that man alone. You’ve done enough as it is. How is he supposed to deal with all that stuff you’ve released to the newspapers about him? It’s the most disgraceful thing I’ve ever come across.

She was incandescent with rage, and Viken took a couple of paces back. He almost collided with a small, stout woman who emerged from the door behind him.

– What’s all the shouting about? she wondered.

Ignoring her, Dr Garberg continued her tirade. She peeled off the plastic glove, crumpled it and tossed it to the floor. Now it was about the patients’ archives, which the police had been interfering with without her permission.

– I’ll deal with this, Inger Beate, said the stout woman, and led them into Glenne’s office.

Viken nudged Nina.

– Our female medical friend is suffering from hysteria, he diagnosed. – Recommended treatment, half a bottle of red wine and a roll in the hay.

Rita Jentoft had what Nina would call shock-bleached hair. Not really suitable for a woman past forty. But she was smart, and friendly, and she gave precise answers to all their questions.

– Are you sure about that? Nina repeated. – Did Glenne say that he had told the police about what he had found in Miriam Gaizauskaite’s flat?

– I’ve told you twice, and I’ll tell you twice more if you like, Rita Jentoft answered. – Axel was in a state of shock over what he’d found. He was terrified something might have happened to that student. She almost spat the last word out. – That was why it was life and death for him to get down here to find that envelope.

– What envelope?

The secretary didn’t mind telling them.

On their way back out to the car, Nina said: – What she says seems credible enough. It would explain how Glenne’s fingerprints ended up on the photos.

Viken grunted. – I’ll admit it’s probable the woman believes it herself, he conceded. – She seems the naïve type. It won’t surprise anyone to learn that Glenne is a world champion manipulator of other people.

His mobile phone rang. He took the call and listened for a few seconds before saying:

– Aker Brygge? You’ve warned Central? Good, we’ll be there in a couple of minutes. By the way, Nina tells me that this Miriam was engaged; obviously we need to find out more about that too… Got that?

He nodded briskly as the caller finished what he had to say.

– Great work, Arve.

He ran down the remainder of the steps and jumped into the car. As Nina got in, he opened the window and placed the blue light on the roof, turned on the siren. As they sped down Bogstadveien, he gave her the news in a sharp burst: – Call registered on Glenne’s phone four or five minutes ago. He’s at Aker Brygge or very close to. At least someone is doing their job.

Nina tightened her seat belt. On an emergency call-out she would much rather drive herself than be Viken’s passenger.

– What about this man Miriam was engaged to?

– Arve checked that out a long time ago, it says so in the report. A guy she met at a school somewhere or other in the west country. At the moment he’s living in Brazil.

– Is that definite?

– Of course, he said with a heavy sigh. – Arve’s double-checked it.

He threaded his way through the traffic. His phone rang again. He pulled a hands-free set out of the glove compartment and fitted the earpiece into his ear.

– Yes, he answered irritably, but his tone changed at once. – Thanks for ringing, but can it wait?… Okay, let’s do it now then.

He spun through the red light at the crossroads and then up along Slotts Park, now and then grunting into the phone.

– Thank you very much, he said finally. – I’ll call you back.

He pulled the earpiece out as they sped down Henrik Ibsen’s gate.

– That was Plåterud. About the fibres found under Elvestrand’s fingernails. They confirm what they suspected about the DNA profile. They come from a man who may have a close family relative with some kind of chromosomal abnormality. Such as Down’s syndrome. Not much help. The woman might have scratched any man in town. But there’s something else Plåterud says we ought to take a closer look at.

Nina didn’t dare distract his attention from the driving by asking questions, but Viken went on:

– They found traces of saliva in Elvestrand’s hair and analysed it.

– And it wasn’t the same profile? Nina hazarded.

Viken accelerated down Løkkeveien.

– That’s a pretty safe bet. Not from a human being at all.

Nina held on tight to her seat. She felt as though they were playing a game of join-the-dots and getting it all wrong.

– A fucking bear, Viken added to himself.

65

AXEL WOKE TO the stink of rotting meat. He lay there without moving. The smell was a warning. Carefully he opened his eyes to darkness. Am I blind now? The thought shot through him. He tried to lift a hand, felt a burning pain in his upper arm as though from a bad wasp sting. His hands wouldn’t move. They were twisted over each other and tied to something behind him. He turned his head slowly to one side, then the other. Finally he located a pale strip of light, diagonally up from him. I can see, he muttered as he tried to sit upright. There was a flash in his head, and then he collapsed and was gone again.

– What happened, Axel?

His father’s voice is cold and without a trace of anger. It makes Axel more afraid than his anger does.

– I don’t know.

He looks down, but notices his father slowly shaking his head.

– Do you think I’m an idiot, Axel?

– No, Father.

– You were there. The two of you were the only ones there. I’m asking you to tell me what happened.

Axel stares at his father’s shoes. They glow a reddish brown in the light falling from the living-room window. He and Brede have made a pact. If he breaks it, there will be no one left to defend his brother.

– Ask Brede, he manages to say.

– I have asked Brede. He maintains that it wasn’t him, but he refuses to say any more. Brede always denies everything, you know that. He’s the type who just doesn’t know how to do the right thing. He’s been given several chances to confess, but he simply goes berserk.

His father takes a few heavy breaths.

– Iknow that you and Brede will never tell on each other. That’s good.

His tone of voice is friendly now, which makes it even worse. When that friendliness is there, you have everything. When it’s gone, you lose everything.

– But you’re going to have to make an exception here. Killing a dog is as bad as killing a human. That’s why I’m asking you, Axel. And I’m only going to ask you this once: was it Brede?

– Yes, Father.

He was sitting with his back wedged up against something hard and round; a pipe, perhaps. His body was stiff; he must have been sitting in the same position for hours. His hands were cuffed, he could feel that, and he tried to understand what had happened. I was attacked. He was here. Waiting for me inside the cabin. The police didn’t come. The cellar… I’m a prisoner in that cellar.

– Miriam, he whispered.

He heard the echo of breathing somewhere in the dark. To his left. Not an echo. Someone else’s breathing, slower and more powerful than his own. The stink of something rotten was so acrid that it had woken him up. He had been present once when the police broke into an apartment belonging to an old woman who hadn’t been seen for over a fortnight. The stench invading his senses now was even worse than that. He breathed through his mouth as slowly as he could to try to control it. Fought against the urge to howl up at the ceiling. Forced himself to sit still. My only hope, he thought, without knowing why. Stay calm. Miriam’s only chance.

66

HE WAS WOKEN by a sound. The strip of light was gone. It had to be evening, or night. Footsteps directly above his head. A door closing. Footsteps back across the floor, stopping. Something being moved, a piece of furniture. Directly afterwards, a trapdoor opening. Bright light, burning his eyes. He had to shut them tight again. Heard steps coming down a ladder, a kick on his foot. He raised an eyelid. The torchlight was playing directly into his face. Behind it a form bending to him.

– Right, so you’re awake.

He still couldn’t see who the figure was. But he knew at once.

– Got something for you to drink.

A plastic bottle was pressed against his lips. There was no smell from it and he took a couple of swigs.

– What do you want from me, Norbakk? he murmured.

The cone of light moved away from his eyes.

– What do you want from me? You’re the one who broke in here.

Axel breathed as deeply as he could.

– Miriam…

It sounded as if the other man laughed.

– You mustn’t harm her, Axel groaned. – I’m the one who got her involved in all this.

– Shut up, Norbakk hissed. – I know everything that’s been going on, understand? Every last thing the two of you have been up to. When you screwed up in the pine shelter, and at home in her bed. She wanted you. Don’t try to defend her, it might make me angry with you too.

Again he directed the torch beam into Axel’s face.

– I’ve got nothing against you, Glenne, he said, calmer now. – No objection to you screwing Miriam. That’s okay by me. I let you do it. You’re not a bad guy. If you hadn’t come out here, you would have escaped.

– Escaped what? Axel managed to ask.

Norbakk didn’t reply. A few moments later he said: – That day you were riding in the forest. I was standing there watching when you swam in the tarn. Would have been a piece of cake to take you then. Standing there bollock naked and looking round. But that would have been too easy. So I just messed with your bicycle.

He made a noise like the sound of air escaping from a tyre.

– It was when I saw you stop to have a chat with that old biddy that I knew what was going to happen. It was a great moment. Other people might have had the same idea, but how many of them would have managed to carry it through?

He whistled a snatch of melody.

– This wasn’t about you. You just happened to get in the way. He leaned down towards him. – Not your fault, Christ, no. I like you, Glenne. You’re a good doctor, a great father to your kids. She’s the one who stirred up all this shit. She promised me everything. And then off she went. Did she say that you were her twin, did she tell you that too?

Axel couldn’t answer.

– What do you think we should do with these women who promise us everything and then run off?

This time he didn’t wait for a reply.

– I gave her some idea of what was going to happen. Made her feel it was getting closer without letting her quite realise what it was. One… two… three. And the fourth will be… Those other old biddies, that was just chance, same as you.

He laughed.

– She felt sorry for me, Glenne, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything that might get me into worse trouble. She had to be a hundred per cent sure first. Poor girl. Who should we feel sorry for now? What d’you think?

– I like you, Norbakk repeated when Axel still did not respond. – It’s too fucking bad you had to come out here.

– They’ll find us, Axel coughed. – I used my mobile phone up here.

Norbakk clucked his tongue.

– Sorry to have to tell you this, but those calls are my department. And the last call registered from Axel Glenne’s telephone was made from Aker Brygge. Full call-out. I’ll leave you to guess who made it. Now your phone is lying at the bottom of the fjord just off the end of the quay.

Axel tried again: – There’s a lot of people know you and Miriam were a couple. Sooner or later…

– Maybe they will find out, Norbakk interrupted. – And maybe they won’t. In any case, it’ll be too late.

– What d’you mean?

– I’ve just had an idea. Now I can see how this all works out in the end. It’s actually quite beautiful. Norbakk sounded as if he was talking to a close friend. – You’ll be found tomorrow. Together. Someone will discover your bodies in the boss’s garage under the police station. You’ll be lying with your arms around each other, as though you’re embracing… There’s a logic to it. It’ll be big. Like planting a huge bomb under the place.

Axel tried to make sense of what he was hearing but couldn’t manage it.

– If they shape up a bit, they’ll find out who put you there, Norbakk mused. – That’s the way I want it to end. They could have guessed a long time ago. If Viken had been a little bit smarter and a little bit less self-centred, he would have known about Miriam and me weeks ago.

Suddenly he sounded frustrated and annoyed.

– I’ve given them something to work with all along, helped put them on the right track. If they’d done their job properly, none of this would have happened. But now it’s happened anyway.

Axel tried to turn.

– Where is she?

Norbakk coughed.

– You want to know?

– Yes.

– She’s lying in bed in a room up there. Had to lock her in. She’s fine now. I’d just finished putting the covers over her when you came barging in.

Axel shook the handcuffs.

– If you release me, I’ll help you.

Norbakk laughed loudly.

– You’re lying there and you’re going to help me? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Glenne. I like you, remember. Don’t disappoint me. We mustn’t lie to each other, you and I.

He squatted down and added confidentially: – I’ll let you out of those handcuffs soon.

He picked up a syringe and held it in the light from the torch.

– I’ll give you something that’ll help you sleep. When you wake up, the cuffs will be unlocked. I’ll give you a chance. I’m not a monster.

– A chance?

Norbakk played the light in an arc around the cellar. The room was almost big enough for him to stand upright in. It was partitioned by a gate.

– You ought to be curious about this place, Glenne. Your father must have been here many times when he was with the Resistance. My grandfather helped him escape. It was just before he was caught himself. I can well imagine they were friends. They had a transmitter here. Even a printing press. But no prisoners. That came later. Long after the war. It was my father who put that partition in.

He shone the light into a corner. A huge dark hulk lay there. It was breathing slowly and deeply.

– What the hell is that?

– Not so loud, Glenne, unless you want to wake him up.

Norbakk played the torch back and forth over the sleeping shape a few times.

– Not too hard to trap one of these when you know how they live. And where. How they react when you put out bait for them and cover it up with branches and soil. All you have to do then is lie there and wait. But a giant like this one, I would never have managed to get him here all on my own… You should meet my brother, Glenne.

Axel’s eyes were wide open. He couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

– It’s had the same medicine as you’re going to get. It’ll sleep for a while yet. And now you’re going to sleep. In an hour’s time, when you wake up, you’ll be in there, with the animal.

He leaned forward and pushed the syringe into Axel’s upper arm.

– What’s the matter, Glenne? Don’t you like teddy bears?

67

ONCE MORE THE darkness had coiled itself around him. He lay and swam in it. Felt far away, drugged. I found you, Axel. Somewhere up there he sees her face. Miriam, he says. Do you regret it, Axel? No, you were the one I was looking for. Was always looking for. She smiles down at him. I want you to live. With one finger she closes his eyes. A crowd of people come up the hill, in through the door. They’re carrying candles. They gather round and look at him lying there. Daniel leans forward and lays a flower on his chest. A rose. Tom is crying. His whole face is open wide. I tried to be good enough, Tom. Tried to get close to you. Bie is wearing a little black hat with a veil across her face. She’s holding Marlen close to her. Her eyes are hard and dark blue, resembling a certain kind of jewel, the name of which escapes him.

He sat up abruptly. The cuffs dangled loose from one wrist, his hands were free. The stench was as powerful as before. He picked up another smell too. Wetter, stronger. Blowing in a steady rhythmic stream against his face. Each time accompanied by a small gurgling sound. He was sitting with his back against the partition. Locked in, he thought in panic. With the animal. He fumbled around, touched something, picked it up and gripped it to see if it could be used as a weapon. Dropped it again as soon as he recognised what it was. The remains of a leg and a foot.

– Norbakk, he shouted as he got to his feet, tearing at the gate.

In the corner to his left, a rustling sound. Something happening in that furry pile. An animal, waking up. He backed away as far as he could. The trapdoor opened, light spread across the ceiling and down to where he stood. Then Norbakk was climbing down.

– Slept well, Glenne?

The voice was bright and cheerful.

– Now I realise you mean what you say, Axel shouted. – Open this bloody gate, the animal’s waking up.

– That’s right, Norbakk whispered. – He’s waking up. Now we’ll see, right?

He shone his torch on the pile of fur lying by the wall. Two black eyes visible.

– The big fella hasn’t suffered down here. I believe in treating animals well. But he hasn’t really had all that much to eat. The first two I had down here, I let him scratch them a bit and then doped him again. The last one had to sacrifice her legs. So now he’s had a little taste, no wonder he wants more. It’ll soon be time for him to go into hibernation.

He hung the torch from a hook in the ceiling, turned it so that most of the cellar was illuminated.

– Need enough light for us to see what’s going on.

He lowered his voice.

– Usually these beasts are pretty groggy when they come round after sedation, but not this one. He’s mean and keen. Probably scared, too, just like you.

Axel grabbed hold of the padlock and rattled it.

– What do you want? Tell me what you want me to do. Is there anything you want?

Norbakk reached up through the trapdoor, picked up something from the floor of the room above.

– That’s what’s so fucking awful, Glenne. You’ve got nothing I want. Not any more. You’ve got money, but I’m not interested in that. And you’ve got a cute, hot wife. Spent a whole evening getting it on with her.

Axel heard him grin.

– Met her at Smuget. She picked the winning number that night all right. She might’ve ended up here too, but she’s the wrong age. The god of chance held his protecting hand over her.

He walked over to the gate, pointed a video camera at Axel.

– Tell me what it was like, he said. – Tell me what it was like screwing Miriam, then I’ll tell you what your wife was like.

– Jesus, Axel shouted, struggling with the free end of the handcuffs.

– Tell me, then I’ll let you out. Did she get you to do the same things as me?

He held the camera up into Axel’s face.

– I always did like you, Axel, he murmured, putting his hand through the bars, squeezing his arm. – I would love to hear you describe…

With a jerk Axel had the cuff fastened around his wrist.

– Axel, now that really wasn’t very clever. Norbakk’s voice was lower. – Not very clever at all.

A growling noise came from the corner, the sound of claws against the stone floor. Norbakk tried to pull his arm free, but Axel leaned forward with all his weight.

– Okay, shouted Norbakk. – I’ll unlock the gate. Then you can let go of my fucking arm.

He fumbled with the padlock. Lost his camera on the floor. Axel heard the padlock being opened, removed. At that moment there was a rattling sound as the animal approached through the half-dark. He felt its breath hit him, the smell of its guts. He pulled himself round, dragging Norbakk’s arm with him. The rattle turned into a roar in the animal’s throat, and then it opened its jaws.

Norbakk screamed. The animal had taken hold of his arm and was jerking its head from side to side, its eyes bloodshot and bulging. Axel tried to hold on to the gate but was dragged away. With a ripping sound, Norbakk’s arm was torn off. The great jaws let go their hold, the animal lifted its head, lowered it again, raised its snout. Axel managed to half turn away. Pain ripped up through his skull, down across his face. The iron gate flew open. He was hurled backwards, and tumbled to the floor outside. As though through water he heard Norbakk’s screaming close to his ear. A hand grabbed him by the hair; he drove his elbow backwards and hit something soft that gave way. He rolled over and managed to catch hold of the ladder, climbed up one step, then another, dragged himself up on to the floor of the room above, crawled away from the opening. He felt as though half his face had been burnt away. He could see, but only through one eye. Beneath him Norbakk’s screaming ended abruptly.

Axel hobbled over to the bedroom door. Still locked.

– Miriam, are you there?

He turned and ran for the front door. The sounds he could hear coming from the cellar were unendurable.

It was dark outside. A thin white layer of snow on the ground. Light from a half-moon shining through the trees. He made his way round the side of the cabin. Which window? he thought feverishly. Which window? He stopped at the first one. Something was dangling from his wrist. The stub of an arm still held in the cuffs. It wasn’t his. He grabbed hold of it and smashed it against the window, took hold of the hasp and opened it. Didn’t notice that he cut himself as he hoisted himself inside and tumbled down on to the floor.

In the pale moonlight he saw the outline of her head against the pillow, the hair flowing around it.

– Miriam…

He took a step towards the bed. Moving through a smell he refused to breathe in. Still saying her name. As though it could drive that smell away, out of that dark room. He pulled the blanket off. Couldn’t see what the body lying there looked like. But he could no longer will away the stench and he staggered backwards and dived out through the window. Lay trembling on the ground. When he looked up, he saw the animal appearing round the corner of the cabin. He dragged himself to his feet. Stand still, Axel, don’t run. You mustn’t run now. The beast raised itself on its hind legs. Turned its head and looked sideways into his eyes.

He yelled. Everything inside him went into that yell. He howled himself empty, screaming into the bear’s face. It stayed up on its hind legs for a few seconds, about as tall as he was. Then it lowered its upper body, took a few paces backwards, raised its snout and sniffed the air. At last it turned, and with a growling noise sidled away towards the forest, where the moon was slowly disappearing behind the tallest trees.

Sitting in the car, he came to his senses again. The key was in the ignition. He started the engine and let the car trundle down on to the forest track. Hoarse noises were still escaping from his throat, coming in bursts, he didn’t know where from, or how to stop them. The car moved slowly down the track in first gear. Sergeant Norbakk’s arm still dangled across his lap.

Round a bend a figure approached into the beams of the headlights. Axel braked. He still couldn’t see out of his right eye. The figure leaned across the bonnet and stared in through the windscreen. A broad distorted face with slanting eyes and open mouth, shouting at him.

He pressed the horn down hard.

– Catch bear, the man seemed to be saying. – Oswald catch bear.

Axel put his foot down. The huge body slid off the bonnet and down into the ditch. In the rear-view mirror he saw it climb back up on to the track and continue on up the hill behind him.

68

QUARTER OF AN hour to closing time. The young man behind the counter at the Esso station in Åmoen had made a start on cashing up for the day. Everything seemed to be in order. At least half an hour since the last customer. Someone he knew, the old woman who’d been his teacher back in primary school. Couldn’t sell her a drop of petrol; all she wanted was a newspaper and some sweets. But what Signy Bruseter really wanted was a natter. As usual she asked a load of questions about what he was up to, what his plans were for the future, all that kind of stuff. And she wanted to tell someone about what had happened at the place where she worked, one of the inmates who’d run off. Signy’s nattering could drive you nuts. He imagined himself picking up the biggest pair of pliers in the place and smashing them over her head; that would get him a bit of peace. Instead he told her there was something he had to do out in the workshop, and in the end she’d gone.

He leaned up against the door to the back room and watched the TV screen hanging up on the wall in there. Jackie Chan’s face grinning down at him. He’d seen the film before and knew there was a good bit coming up soon. He tossed a hamburger into the microwave. Thought about eating it before he left but then decided to take it home. Enjoy it in peace and quiet with another film. He took it out and stuck it into a plastic bag along with the local paper and a Red Bull.

Just then a car turned on to the forecourt. Looked like a Nissan Micra in the colour they called Old Lady’s White. It rolled past the pumps and came to a halt. A guy tumbled out on the driver’s side and came staggering over towards the door, opened it and stood swaying in the entrance. It was a sight the young man behind the counter would never forget as long as he lived. A big man with half his face torn away, from the hairline down. Something that must have been an eye dangled against his cheek. His light jacket was drenched in blood. He supported himself against the newspaper rack, seemed to be trying to say something, but the sounds that came from the bloodied mouth were incomprehensible. Then he raised his arm. Something was dangling from it, attached by a handcuff. Something that looked like a hand with a bit of the lower arm.

The lad backed away into the room behind him, slammed the door shut and turned the key in the lock. With trembling hands he took his mobile phone from his top pocket and punched in the emergency number.

69

Saturday 27 October

AT 1.10 A.M., ARMED police mounted an operation in Åsnes county in Hedmark. Members of the Emergency Response Unit went into action, surrounding a cabin in the forest north of Åmoen owned by Sergeant Arve Norbakk of the Oslo City Police. Snipers were put on alert and a dog team was also on the scene.

The door and the windows on two of the walls were wide open. Through a megaphone the operational leader ordered everyone inside the cabin to come out immediately. There was no reaction, nor was there when the command was repeated. At 2.23 the cabin was bathed in light from mobile floodlights and a combined assault was mounted on three fronts. The first man through the door shouted a warning; again there was no answer.

– I’m hearing sounds, he reported through his radio headset. – Like a child whimpering.

They were given the go-ahead and went in. The smell of rotting meat hit them. The front room was empty. The kitchen too, and one of the bedrooms. Another door was locked and secured. An open trapdoor was found. Obviously where the sounds were coming from. One of the three officers who had entered the premises got down on the floor and wriggled his way over to it. The stench here was even stronger. From the ceiling below him a torch shed a faint light on what lay beneath. It struck him that the cellar was much larger than it appeared to be from the outside. A metal gate divided the room in two. He leaned further forward, shone his own torch around. In one corner, behind the ladder leading down, sat a bent form with its back to him. Now it turned towards the light. The sergeant stared down into the pale, wide face. It looked as though tears were falling from the slanting eyes. The man sat cradling something in his arms. It looked to be about the size of a doll. Behind him lay the twisted shape of a human body.

– What are you doing down there?

He got no answer. One of the others joined him.

– I’ll go down. The guy’s mentally retarded. Looks like there’s someone else there too. Probably not conscious.

He jumped down into the semi-darkness, pistol in one hand, torch in the other.

– You can’t sit there like that, he said. – What’s that you’ve got there?

He shone his torch on the thing the man was holding in his arms. At first he couldn’t tell what it was. Then abruptly he staggered back and supported himself against the ladder. The light from the torch was shining directly on to the face of a severed head.

At 4.15, the remains of the two bodies were carried outside and placed in the clearing in front of the cabin. A pile of excrement was found by one of the cellar walls. The wildlife expert was in no doubt about the kind of animal it came from, and tracks found in and around the cabin confirmed this. Along with the injuries sustained by the two bodies, this seemed a clear indication of the cause of death. As soon as it was light enough, four teams of hunters were sent out into the forest. It would take three days before they managed to track down the bear they believed to be the one that had been kept in the cellar beneath the cabin. It was shot and dissected. In its stomach the hunters found partially digested remains that they were immediately able to identify as human.

At 12.00, a press conference was held in a fifth-floor meeting room at Oslo police station. The room was packed with journalists, over a third of them from foreign media. Representing the police were the Chief Constable, the Deputy Chief Constable and the Assistant Chief Constable, as well as the head of the Violent Crimes unit, Superintendent Agnes Finckenhagen, who briefed the gathering on the so-called bear murders. She announced that the case could now be considered solved, and assured members of the press that they would be kept up to date on any further developments. She also asked for their understanding on this difficult day. It was an appalling tragedy for the victims and their families, and one in which the Oslo police too had suffered.

As soon as questions were invited, all hell broke loose in the room, and it took some time for things to calm down enough for the questions to be heard. Finckenhagen sat there pale and drawn, the make-up cracking around her eyes, and struggled to control her voice. It was obvious that many of the journalists had been unable to take on board the extraordinary details that had emerged from the briefing, and the questions they asked were relatively straightforward to answer. VG, on the other hand, seemed to be particularly well informed. The female reporter immediately asked about Sergeant Arve Norbakk, his role in the investigation, and his relationship to one of the murdered women.

– When a serial killer involved in the investigation of his own crimes has clearly influenced the direction of that investigation, what are the consequences for the police? she added.

Finckenhagen was taken completely by surprise. She had expressed herself in very general terms about an employee in the Oslo city police force. She turned to the Chief Constable, and in his eyes thought she could see what the ultimate consequences of this question would be. She felt dizzy.

– There will be a full inquiry into personnel and leadership routines, she heard him reply. – Obviously it’s much too early to say what the results of that inquiry will be. We can however confirm that things have happened here that should not have happened in the matter of employment practices and follow-up routines.

Detective Chief Inspector Hans Magnus Viken and the rest of the team followed the press conference on the screen in the meeting room. Nina Jebsen sat leaning forward, chewing away intensely at something, while Sigge Helgarsson tipped his chair back against the wall and lounged there, a bemused smirk on his face.

– Heads will roll, he predicted, evidently not realising that his language was a trifle inappropriate under the circumstances. – It’s on days like this you realise how lucky you are not to be one of the bosses.

For once Viken didn’t turn on him with a sarcastic riposte. He stood by the wall, arms folded, expressionless and silent. Images from the previous night were still etched across the light cells of his retinas. Arve Norbakk’s cabin, the bed containing the remains of the missing woman, Miriam Gaizauskaite. He had also been down in the cellar… The smells were even more persistent, he noticed. He shook them away, grabbed his coffee cup and emptied it, felt the acid bubbling and boiling down in his stomach. The burning grew worse when he thought about Arve Norbakk. He’d given himself a day, two at the most, to put these thoughts behind him. He’d spent all night trying to come up with an alternative explanation. In some way or other Arve had to be a victim too. In the minutes before Axel Glenne was wheeled into the operating theatre at Ullevål hospital, Viken had been allowed to ask him some questions. A few of his worst suspicions were confirmed, but shreds of doubt remained.

Not until about ten o’clock had he been able to sit down with the letters from Glenne’s car, and a Dictaphone they found at the cabin. A video camera had also been found there. Viken ran the first clip, from which he understood that the sufferings of the victims in the cellar had been thoroughly documented. He decided that the rest of the clips could wait for another day.

By the time he had read the letters and listened to the recordings made on the Dictaphone, all the pieces had fallen into place and there was no hiding place left for his doubt. Arve Norbakk had been one step ahead all the way. He’d led them on and played with them. Offered them explanations for the bear tracks and the claw marks. Advised Viken to send people to Åsnes. Had them looking in an area close to the cabin where the victims had been held prisoner. And he had deceived them. Information about Miriam Gaizauskaite had been withheld or altered. The identity of the former fiancé fabricated.

Viken glanced at the piece of paper on which he had jotted down a number of timelines. Miriam had been abducted on Wednesday evening, at some point after leaving the Catholic church in Majorstua at 6.15. Norbakk could not have managed to drive out to the cabin with her and be back again by nine o’clock, when the interview with Glenne began. Viken realised that she had probably lain bound and drugged in the back of Norbakk’s car while Norbakk was taking part in the interrogation. That meant she had been in the police’s own garage, a few floors below where they were sitting. According to the pathologist’s report, she hadn’t been killed until Thursday night, more than twenty-four hours later.

Viken didn’t waste time in self-recriminations. Even as he was reading the letters, he was working out how something he had understood much too late might in fact be turned to his advantage. He managed to catch Finckenhagen just before she was called in to see the Chief Constable about preparations for the press conference, and showed her the letters.

Not long afterwards, Kaja Fredvold from VG had called. Suddenly Viken knew the best way to play his cards. He skipped down the stairs, got into his car and returned her call.

Nina was the first to get up and leave the meeting room once the press conference was over. Viken saw from the movements in her neck and back that she needed to be alone. But when he passed her door a few minutes later, she called to him. Full of trepidation, he stopped in the doorway. She was sitting in front of her computer and waved him over.

– Look at this.

Viken peered over her shoulder. Nina’s hair smelled of some kind of fruit, and he leaned so far forward that his arm brushed against her back. She was looking at the web edition of VG. The headline filled most of the screen: Infidelity, jealousy and bestial murder. Beneath was a picture of Miriam. She was standing smiling outside the cabin. A giant of a man, obviously with Down’s syndrome, had an arm around her. Viken had seen him earlier when two detectives led him up from the cellar and out of the cabin.

Viken wrinkled his bushy eyebrows and made a supreme effort to appear surprised.

– How the hell did they get hold of that story? he exclaimed, as Nina clicked on a link that said: Read all about the bear murders and the Oslo police scandal.

70

AXEL HEARS A phone ringing far away. He gets out of bed. The sound is coming from somewhere outside the frosted window. He tries to open it, but there are no hinges. I can’t answer you, Miriam. I don’t know where it’s ringing. He raises his fist to break the window.

He was held by several pairs of hands.

– Take it easy now, Axel, the dark voice above him said. – Take it easy and everything will be fine.

He opened his eyes. Could see through only one. Three faces above him.

– Who are you?

– I’m the person who operated on you.

– Miriam’s trying to call me!

One of the others, a woman in small round glasses, said:

– You didn’t have a phone with you, but if someone rings we’ll make sure you get a message.

– What have you given me?

– You’re on a morphine drip.

Axel sank back on to the bed. They let go of him.

– I can only see through one eye.

The surgeon sat on the edge of the bed.

– You only have one eye to see with, Axel. But there’s nothing wrong with that one. You’ll see as well as a one-eyed eagle.

The smile was fixed around his mouth.

– The operation was a success. Our only problem is all these damned journalists. But we’re doing what we can to keep them away.

– Who’s that ringing?

The woman in glasses bent over him again. The smell of carbolic soap and mackerel from her mouth.

– It’s quiet here, Axel. No one’s ringing.

He takes hold of the mobile phone on the bedside table and presses it to his ear. He’s picked up the wrong phone again; the ringing is still there. The glass in the window is frosted, opaque, but he can see a bright light burning on the other side. Shadows moving. Time to do the right thing, Axel. Yes, Father, I will do the right thing. But first I have to take this call. Miriam’s calling, she’s the one I want to tell. Don’t try it on, Axel. Do the right thing. Now.

Two boys standing outside on the steps. It’s summer, and the sun is almost white. They’re skinny and bare chested, their arms pink. One of the first really warm days of the summer holidays.

– Let’s ride to Oksvalstranda, Brede suggests.

– My bike’s still got a flat, Axel says. – And anyway, we promised to look after Balder.

– You can sit behind me. Balder can come with us.

– Not with his paw, Axel protests. – It’ll make the infection worse. You heard what Father said this morning. He’ll kill you if you do it.

Brede laughs. The kind of laugh that seems to come from some completely different place than his thin neck.

– Suppose Balder did get really ill and die, that would serve the old man right. He loves that dog more than he loves any of us.

Axel weighs it up. Brede says: – If you don’t believe me, we can always shoot the dog and then you’ll see if I’m not right.

Balder raises his great head and looks at them from the shadows at the corner of the house.

– See, he’s laughing at you, says Axel.

Brede ambles over, bends to the dog and scratches behind his ear.

– You’re not doing that, are you, Balder? You’re not laughing at me.

The dog’s tail swishes across the grass like a great bushy snake.

– You shouldn’t say things like that, Axel says, suddenly angry.

– Like what?

– What you said about the old man.

Brede looks at him with narrowed eyes. The look makes Axel even angrier. He pulls open the door, runs into the house and up to the first floor, then on up into the loft. Comes back down with a leather pouch in his hand.

Brede has got up and is standing beside Balder.

– What are you going to do with that?

– You always act so bloody tough, Axel hisses. – Now let’s see how tough you really are.

He opens the pouch and pulls out the polished black weapon, holds it out to his brother. Brede looks at him, half grins. He takes the gun and releases the safety catch.

– It isn’t even loaded, he says and hands it back. – Talk about being tough. You’re the biggest yellow-belly round here. You never dare do anything yourself, always get someone else to do it.

Axel puffs out his cheeks in contempt. He takes aim with the pistol, circling round. Points it at Brede’s temple.

– Want to bet it isn’t loaded?

Brede is still grinning, but the grin has stiffened.

– Why don’t you find out, he says in a low voice. – See if you dare.

Axel squeezes the trigger. It’s hard and smooth, and the movement of his finger can no longer be stopped. It can be slowed, but not stopped. He turns his hand round and down towards the dog as the gun goes off.

The nurse with the round glasses bent over him. She still smelt of mackerel, and he opened his mouth to ask her if she would mind not getting so close.

– Are you up to seeing visitors? she breathed into his face.

He tried to turn away.

– Brede? he asked.

– Your family’s here. Is that his name, your son?

Marlen slipped into the room and stopped just inside the door. Tom pushed her to one side and opened the door all the way. Then Bie appeared and closed it behind them. She was wearing her short jacket. The black leather looked soft.

Marlen ventured closer. She peered up at Axel’s face, dropped a bouquet of flowers on to the bed. She put something else there too, a sheet of paper, before taking a few steps back.

– Is it true that you fought with that bear? she whispered.

He moved his head carefully, tried to nod.

– I’ve done a drawing for you.

He picked it up. Animal shapes against a dark blue background, and a little yellow sun with something bright green in the middle of it.

– This is your eye in the sky, she explained, still whispering. – It’s a new star now. Right next to Cassiopeia.

– Come here, he said as distinctly as he could. – You too, Tom.

They stood by his bed. Tom had his arm around his little sister, as though making sure she didn’t run off.

– Daniel will be here soon, he said. – His plane lands in an hour. It was me who rang and asked him to come over.

Axel took his hand. He felt a burning sensation where his eye had been.

Bie still stood there, a little behind them. Her eyes were as hard as tiny sapphires.

– I’ll do the right thing, he said.