The Consorts of Death

49

Inspector Anne-Kristine Bergsjo was sitting behind a large desk with fingertips pressed against each other and a sour glare behind the frameless glasses. Her hair was a little shorter than I remembered it, but her clothes were just as conservative: a plain white blouse, nice blue culottes and a tailored grey jacket. A classic blonde of the competent variety.

She was wearing a trademark smile with tight lips curled at the corners, almost like a cartoon character. ‘Varg Veum, private eye,’ she said with biting acerbity. ‘I had hoped I would never see you again.’

‘That’s a hope I never shared, I’m afraid.’

She raised her eyebrows sceptically. ‘You didn’t?’

‘We had such a cosy time when we last met, didn’t we?’

‘No, we didn’t. Unless I’m much mistaken you brought death and destruction last time, too. I hope you’re not on the same mission now.’

I splayed my hands. ‘To tell the truth, I hadn’t been considering a courtesy visit to the police station, either. It was these colleagues of yours who absolutely insisted.’

She sighed. ‘You were observed leaving a flat we’re holding under surveillance. Could you first tell me what you were doing there?’

‘If you could give me a good reason.’

She looked at her telephone. ‘Of course we could send you down to the basement and let you mull over the question there for a few hours.’ She looked up again. ‘But it would be so much more enjoyable if we could resolve this in a friendly atmosphere, don’t you think?’

‘Over a drink maybe?’

She forced a wry smile. ‘Coffee?’

‘From the machine you have in the building? No, thank you.’

Her expectant gaze lingered.

‘Well, I can’t see any reason not to… I was visiting a woman called Silje Tveiten. She has a child with a former client of mine.’

She leaned forward. Her eyes were alert and direct, her eyelashes unmoving. ‘Jan Egil Skarnes was a client of yours? When was that?’

‘While I was still in social services. Twenty-one years ago.’

‘Uhuh. I see.’

I gave her a rundown of my life with Jan Egil, from when he was three years old until my last sighting of him in court, a good ten years ago, and why I was in Oslo this time.’

‘He was going to kill you?’ She looked at me, her eyes disbelieving. ‘She didn’t tell us that.’

‘I suppose she didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.’

‘Maybe not.’ She looked at me seriously. ‘I’m going to have to give you a warning, Veum.’

‘A warning?’

‘Or, to be more precise, I have to warn you.’

‘I understand the difference.’

‘You’re mixing with the fringes of a nasty group of individuals. They’re dangerous.’

‘Dangerous people? What are you talking about? Jan Egil?’

‘I’m afraid to say that we’ve observed him several times in what I would call bad company since he was let out on parole. I can tell you in confidence that he’s been very close to being banged up again.’

‘Right! On what grounds, if I might ask?’

She eyed me coldly. ‘Tell me… Do you know that organised crime is on the up in this country, Veum? Especially in the capital.’

‘I’ve had an inkling.’

‘Whether you’re on the inside or outside does not matter much. You’re part of the set-up anyway. Reports we’ve received from Ullersmo suggest that during his incarceration Jan Egil Skarnes nurtured close links with a very unsavoury bunch based here in Oslo. He’d been on our radar several times before he was released.’

‘Before he was released? What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Mm… It’s not at all unusual for inmates out on leave to be used to carry out jobs. They have a kind of alibi, at least at first. We don’t always check who’s on leave or not when there’s a robbery, someone is beaten up or something even more serious.’

‘Murder?’

‘That, too. Inside the fraternity, that is. Internal showdowns, quarrels between various factions. Big money’s involved. Drugs. Contraband alcohol. Prostitution. And behind all of this — the backers. Yes, some of them are even under lock and key and steering the whole thing from prison. Ullersmo Executive, as we call it. I could give you a number of names. Others conceal themselves behind respectable facades. Business people, restaurant owners, entrepreneurs. And you won’t find what they earn from this on any tax register, if that’s what you thought.’

‘No, I didn’t think that. We’ve got them in Bergen, too, though on a smaller scale.’

‘At the moment, Veum. At the moment. Norway is virgin territory for organised crime of this calibre. The worst is yet to come. Mark my words.’

‘But… you’re maintaining that Jan Egil is part of this?’

‘We have substantiated evidence that he is. In a sense, prison is the best school you can attend.’

‘So what shall we do with them? The ones who deserve to be there?’

She sighed. ‘It’s a weighty issue, Veum. Either they have to invest more in preventive measures, including precautionary surveillance of criminal milieus. Or else we’ll just have to lock them up, chuck the keys and walk away. One of the two options.’

‘So, in reality, there’s just one.’

She smiled weakly. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Are you suggesting that the killing of Terje Hammersten was a hit job?’

‘It could be. Hammersten was himself a link in the criminal network.’

‘He’d left it, my informant tells me. Rumour had it he’d been converted. He was holding the Bible in his hand when he was murdered.’

‘Yes, a Bible was found at the crime scene. That’s right. But we stick to what we’ve got on Hammersten in our files, and a good part of that comes from Bergen. If he’d converted today, there would’ve been a lot to pay for from the past. And this criminal fraternity can bear grudges for a long time. Deliberately, so that the punishment is not linked too closely to the actual deeds.’

I sat pondering what she had just said. Then something clicked. ‘Tell me… You said you were holding this flat in Ildalen under observation, that was why you brought me in.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘So it wasn’t you following me from Eiriks gate then?’

‘Not as far as I know. Do you think you’re being followed?’

‘Perhaps.’ I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, a warning sign that something was brewing, something I wasn’t going to like.

‘Another reason to look at least twice before crossing the street.’

‘So… what would you recommend I do, Anne-Kristine?’

She showed with the utmost clarity that she did not appreciate my familiar tone. ‘Go back home, Veum. The sooner, the better. Oslo is not a healthy place for you to stay.’

‘I found that out a long time ago for myself, but…’

She breathed in through her nose, raised her head a fraction and peered at me through her shiny glasses. ‘Yes?’

‘There’s an old friend I just feel I should visit first.’

‘And that is?’

‘Langeland, the solicitor. Jens Langeland.’