The Redbreast

47

Ellen's Office. 7 March 2000.

Ellen hadn't managed to come up with anything.

Harry had wandered down to her office and sat in her creaky old office chair. They had recruited a new man, a young policeman from the station in Steinkjer, and he would be here in a month's time.

'I'm not clairvoyant,' she said on seeing Harry's disappointed face. 'And I checked with the others at the morning meeting today, but no one had heard of the Prince.'

'What about the Firearms Registry? They ought to have some idea about arms smugglers.'

'Harry!'

'Yes?'

'I don't work for you any longer.’

‘For me?'

'With you, then. It's just that it felt like I was working for you. Bully' Harry shoved himself off with his foot and span round on the swivel chair. Four complete turns. He had never managed more. Ellen rolled her eyes.

'OK, so I rang the Firearms Registry too,' she said. 'They hadn't heard of the Prince, either. Why don't they give you an assistant up in POT?’

‘The case doesn't have high priority. Meirik lets me get on with it, but actually he wants me to discover what the neo-Nazis are planning to do on Eid.'

'One of the cues was "arms freaks". I can hardly imagine bigger arms freaks than the neo-Nazis. Why not start there and kill two birds with one stone?'

'I wondered about that myself.'