Nemesis

44

Patrin

The next day the last remnants of the two-day-old snow were gone. At the morning meeting in the Robberies Unit, Ivarsson said if they were going to make any headway in the Expeditor case their best hope was another bank raid, but he added that unfortunately Beate's prediction that the Expeditor would strike sooner or later was incorrect. To everyone's surprise, Beate didn't seem to take this indirect criticism to heart. She shrugged and repeated confidently that it was just a question of time before the Expeditor cracked.

The same evening a police car slid into the car park in front of the Munch Museum and came to a halt. Four men stepped out, two uniformed officers plus two plain-clothes men who from a distance looked as if they were walking hand in hand.

'Apologies for the security precautions,' Harry said, jerking his head towards the handcuffs. 'It was the only way I could get permission to do this.'

Raskol hunched his shoulders. 'I think it irks you more than me that we're cuffed together, Harry.'

The group crossed the car park towards the football pitch and the caravans. Harry signalled to the officers to wait outside while he and Raskol entered the small caravan.

Simon was waiting inside. He had put out a bottle of Calvados and three glasses. Harry shook his head, unlocked the cuffs and crawled onto the sofa.

'Nice to be back?' Harry asked.

Raskol didn't answer, and Harry waited while Raskol's black eyes examined the caravan. Harry saw them stop by the photograph of the two brothers over the bed. He thought he detected a tiny twist of the gentle mouth.

'I've promised we'll be back in Botsen by twelve, so we have to get down to brass tacks,' Harry said. 'Alf Gunnerud did not kill Anna Bethsen.'

Simon looked across at Raskol, who was staring at Harry.

'And neither did Arne Albu.'

In the silence, the roar of the traffic in Finnmarkgata seemed to increase. Did Raskol miss the traffic noise when he lay in his cell at night? Did he miss the voice from the other bed, the smell, the sound of his brother's regular breathing? Harry turned to Simon: 'Would you mind leaving us alone?'

Simon turned to Raskol, who gave a brief nod. He closed the door after leaving. Harry folded his hands and raised his eyes. Raskol's eyes were shiny, as though he had a temperature.

'You've known for some time, haven't you,' Harry said in a low voice.

Raskol pressed his palms together, on the surface a sign of inner calm, but the white fingertips told a different story.

'Perhaps Anna had read Sun Tzu,' Harry said. 'And knew the first rule of all war was deception. Nevertheless she gave me the solution. I just couldn't crack the code. S^2 MN. She even gave me a clue; she said the retina inverted things, so I would have to look in the mirror to see what they were.'

Raskol had closed his eyes. He seemed to be praying. 'Her mother was beautiful and crazy,' he whispered. 'Anna inherited both elements.'

'You solved the code ages ago, I know,' Harry said. 'Her signature was S^2 MN. The two stands for a second S and there are three vowels missing. From left to right it reads S-S-M-N, but in the mirror it becomes N-M-S-S, or with the vowels NeMeSiS. The goddess of vengeance. She told me. It was her masterpiece. What she wanted to be remembered for.'

Harry said it without a hint of triumph in his voice. It was a statement of fact. The cramped caravan seemed to shrink around them.

'Tell me the rest,' Raskol breathed.

'I suppose you can work it out.'

'Tell me!' he hissed.

Harry looked at the small, round window over the table, which had already misted up. A porthole. A spaceship. He fantasised that if he wiped away the condensation they would discover they were in outer space, two lonely astronauts in the Horsehead Nebula on board a flying caravan. That wouldn't be very much more fantastic than what he was about to tell now.