The Redbreast

102

Oslo. 16 May 2000.

Oslo. 16 May 2000.

Signe is dead. She was executed as a traitor three days ago, with a bullet through her false heart. Having been with him for such a long time, I wavered when Daniel left me after firing the shot. He left me in lonely confusion. I allowed doubts to creep in and had a terrible night. The illness didn't help. I took three of the pills Dr Buer said I should take one of, but still the pain was unbearable. I managed to sleep in the end and the following day Daniel was back with renewed vigour. That was the penultimate stage and now we are boldly pressing on.

Join the circle of men round the fire, gaze at torches so golden and bright, urging soldiers to aim even higher, pledge their beings to stand up and fight.

It is approaching, the day when the Great Betrayal shall be avenged. I am undaunted.

The crucial thing is that the Betrayal will be made public. If these memoirs are found by the wrong people, there is a chance they will be destroyed or kept secret out of concern for public reactions. For safety's sake, I have also given the necessary clues to a young policeman in POT. It remains to be seen how intelligent he is, but my gut instinct is that he is at least a person with integrity. The last days have been dramatic.

It began on the day I determined I would settle accounts with Signe. I had just phoned to say I was coming for her and as I walked out of Schroder's I saw Even Juul's face through the glass front of the coffee bar on the other side of the street. I pretended I hadn't seen him and walked on, but I knew he would put two and two together once he had thought things through.

Yesterday the policeman called on me. I didn't think the clues I had given him were so obvious that he would understand how they fitted together until the mission was complete. However, it turned out he had followed the trail of Gudbrand Johansen to Vienna. I knew I had to gain time, at least forty-eight hours, so I told him a story about Even Juul which I had dreamed up in case precisely such a situation should arise. I told him Even was a poor damaged soul and that Daniel had taken up residence in him. Firstly, the story would make it seem as if Juul was behind everything Signe's killing too. Secondly, it would make the suicide I had meanwhile planned for Juul more credible.

When the policeman left, I set to work immediately. Even Juul didn't seem unduly surprised when he opened the door today and saw me on the step outside. I don't know whether he had worked it out or was simply no longer capable of surprise. He already looked dead. I held a knife to his throat and assured him that if he made one false move I could slice him up just as easily as I had done his dog. To make sure he understood what I meant, I opened the bin bag I had with me and showed him the animal. We went upstairs to his bedroom where he readily allowed me to place him on the chair. He tied the dog lead to the ceiling hook.

I don't want the police to have any more clues until this is over, so we have to make this look like suicide,' I said. But he didn't react, he seemed indifferent. Who knows, perhaps I was doing him a favour?

Afterwards, I wiped off my fingerprints and put the bin bag containing the dog in the freezer and the knives in the cellar. Everything was in place and I was just giving the bedroom a last check when I heard the crunch of gravel and saw a police car in the road. It was parked, as if it was waiting for something. I knew I was in a tight corner. Gudbrand panicked of course, but fortunately Daniel acted swiftly.

I grabbed the keys from the other two bedrooms, and one of them fitted the room where Even was hanging. I put it on the floor inside the door, took out the original key from the lock and used it to lock the door from the outside. Then I switched it with the key that didn't fit and left that one in the lock. Finally, I put the original key in the other bedroom door. It was done in a few seconds. Then I calmly walked down to the ground floor and called Harry Hole's mobile.

And the very next moment he strolled in.

Although I could feel the laughter bubbling up inside me, I think I managed to put on a look of surprise, probably because I was a little surprised. In fact, I had seen one of the policemen before. That night in the Palace Gardens. But I don't think he recognised me. Perhaps it was Daniel he saw today. And, YES, I remembered to wipe the fingerprints off the keys.

'Harry! What are you doing here? Is something up?’

‘Listen, get through on your walkie-talkie to…'

'Hey?'

Boltelokka School drum band was marching past.

'I said to…' Harry shouted.

'What?' shouted Halvorsen.

Harry snatched the walkie-talkie out of his hand.

'Listen carefully, everyone out there. Keep your eyes peeled for a man, seventy years old, one metre seventy-five, blue eyes, white hair. He's probably armed, repeat armed, and extremely dangerous. There is reason to suspect an assassination attempt, so check open windows and roofs in the area. I repeat…'

Harry repeated the message while Halvorsen stared at him with his mouth hanging open. When Harry had finished he threw the walkie-talkie back to him.

'Now it's your job to get 17 May cancelled, Halvorsen.'

'What did you say?'

'You're on duty. I look like someone… who's been on the piss. They won't listen to me.'

Halvorsen's stare focused on Harry's unshaven chin, the badly buttoned, creased shirt and the sockless feet in shoes.

'Who's they?'

'Have you still not understood what I'm talking about yet?' Harry roared, pointing upwards with a quivering finger.