The Writing on the Wall

Thirty-five

IT WAS LIKE A GOOD, old-fashioned tailing job.

I’d made a quick tour of the area, popped into a snack bar and bought two hot dogs with plenty of onions to soak up the aquavit I’d allowed myself in the bar, taken my woollen cap out of my pocket, turned up my coat collar and taken up a position in a doorway about a hundred yards from the main entrance to the hotel, with an oblique view of both it and the exit from the courtyard at the rear.

The weather was changing. The wind was gusting from the south-west, and there were snowflakes in the air. The view in front of me became grainy and blurred, like a photo taken on the move.

On a chilly Tuesday evening in late winter there wasn’t much custom. A handful of guests, all of them men on their own, arrived with suitcases. A few of them made for the bar and the dance floor. In one or two windows on the upper floors the light suddenly went on and off. Perhaps it was Miss Molly taking the man with all the credit cards up to her room. She surely had a slot he could put his credit card into to debit his account.

After about half an hour a taxi stopped outside the hotel entrance. The door opened, and the well-dressed weasel ran doubled up against the wind into the car. The passenger gave the destination and, indicator flashing, the taxi turned right at the first intersection.

Half an hour later someone appeared in the doorway leading to the courtyard at the back of the hotel. Then the figure bent over, leaned against the wall and disappeared back inside.

I looked both ways, kept an eye on the front and walked across the street at an angle, straight through the entrance leading to the rear courtyard.

Astrid Nikolaisen was leaning over, vomiting behind three dustbins. Her hair was a mess, her clothes looked as though they’d been thrown on in a hurry, and her face was ashen. The strangled sounds coming from her were like those of an animal being throttled, and she was making some twitching, almost spastic, hand movements as she leaned her arm and shoulder against the wall to support herself.

Gingerly, I put my arm round her. ‘Astrid, I -’

She jumped as though I’d slapped her. She had a dark unseeing look in her eyes. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she hissed hysterically. ‘Don’t you dare!’

From inside the building I heard the sound of a window being opened, two voices engaged in a heated exchange then the sound of the same window being slammed shut.

I took her by the arm. ‘Come on, Astrid! I’ll help you! Don’t you remember me? It’s Veum…’

She tried to get up. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, spat out phlegm and looked at me with fresh eyes. ‘Yeah,’ she mumbled.

A door banged further along the courtyard. ‘Astrid? Are you there?’ Kenneth Persen called out.

She grimaced and bent over again. ‘Come on,’ I whispered, ‘let’s get out of here!’

I gave her a tug, and she followed me reluctantly out into the street and down towards the busier area of the city.

When we were about ten to fifteen yards from the hotel, I heard his voice again: ‘Ve-um! You bastard!’

I pushed her ahead of me. ‘Round the corner and up the next side street. The grey Toyota at the second parking meter. Wait for me there.’

Then I turned and stood ready to defend myself, fists raised.

Kenneth Persen stopped in his tracks. He looked around as though sizing up the chances of having a go at me without being seen. But there were already people on the other side of the street who had stopped to watch us. From the next block a group of youths shouted: ‘More blood! More blood!’ then broke into raucous laughter.

In low tones, he said: ‘You’re going to be sorry, Veum! She’s mine, get it?’

‘Better than you deserve!’

‘It’s not the end of the story yet!’

‘Oh no?’

He looked at me, eyes smouldering. Then he made a brutal gesture with his right hand as though finishing me off, turned on his heel and strode off back to the hotel.

The youths from further down the street had moved closer now and were enthusiastically applauding the show. The people on the other side of the street had slowly started to move on, some of them with inquisitive looks in my direction, others with obvious signs of disappointment that the show was already over.

I turned and set off quickly after Astrid Nikolaisen in the hope that she hadn’t seized the chance to make off.

Surprisingly enough, there she stood leaning against my car, with her arms resting on the roof and head in hands.

I smiled to reassure her. ‘Everything’s OK.’ I dug out my car keys and opened the door. ‘Come on… Just get in,’

She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. Her make-up had run down her sallow cheeks in streaks. Her clothes were still in disarray. A corner of her pale blouse was sticking out from under her short bomber jacket and something that looked like the elastic from a black bra was hanging out of one of the side pockets. ‘Dirty old bastards!’ she spat out. ‘The stuff they ask you to do, you haven’t a bleedin’ clue have you? Makes you puke!’

‘Yeah, I noticed.’

She held up the thumb and index finger of her right hand, just an inch or so apart. ‘Pathetic little – worms – this size! And then they expect us, expect me to…’ She gagged again. But her stomach was empty. All that came out was horrible rasping groans, which again put me in mind of an animal, this time with its foot caught in a snare.

I felt a slight wave of nausea myself. ‘Want to talk about it?’

She looked at me baffled. ‘Talk? What the hell good does that do?’

Do you want me to go back and break Kenneth Persen’s jaw then? Is that what you’re waiting for? ‘Come on, Astrid, get in…’

Stiffly, she did as I said. I locked the door after her, went round to the driver’s side, opened the door and sat behind the wheel.

We exchanged glances. There was a momentary glint of mutual understanding between us, like a father and daughter who had finally reconciled themselves to a shared fate. Then her look clouded over, and her face closed in on itself.

I looked past her. ‘There’s still ten minutes left on the meter. Shall we stay here or shall I drive you straight home?’

She shrank away from me. ‘Home? I don’t want to go home!’

‘Your mother’s frightened for you, Astrid.’

‘Like hell she is. She hates my guts!’

‘She does n -’

‘You don’t know what happened!’

‘Yes I do. Everything.’

‘What?! Did she tell you?’ She looked at me wide-eyed.

I nodded. ‘She’s your mother, Astrid. You mustn’t think she doesn’t care about you.’

‘But after what I…’

‘She’s still so young, though, compared with… You must see that it was normal for her to react like that, but she’s forgiven you now, I can guarantee you that. So you can’t be surprised that she went off the deep end.’

She avoided my eyes. ‘That wasn’t how she… I was asleep anyway! Suddenly there he was in my bed, and… I tried to resist obviously, but… It’s not that easy… He’s strong.’

‘You can report him for rape.’

‘Ha, ha, ha! Who’d believe me, eh? I can just hear Gerd in the witness box…’

‘But I believe you, Astrid. And when you explain it to her, properly, I’m sure your mother’ll understand as well.’

‘Gerd…’ she said, almost with a note of surprise in her voice.

‘Had he done it before, Astrid?’

‘What do you think? As soon as she was out of the door he’d start pawing me! He knew where he’d got me, what with me being on the safe list and that!’

‘The safe list?’

‘Yeah. Why do you think people were always asking for us, eh?’

‘You mean… because you were on a list?’

‘Not just me! Torild as well!’

‘And this list… what did it consist of, Astrid?’

‘Consist of?’

‘Yes, what did it mean?’

‘That we were safe, obviously! That we didn’t have anything you could catch…’

‘I get it. Was there a doctor who examined you all?’

She looked away. ‘Once a month. I couldn’t stand it, but we got paid more.’

Her answer struck me like a thunderbolt. The way she said it. As though it was a summer job in a souvenir shop. I had to compose myself before I could continue. ‘And what was the name of the – er – company doctor?’

‘Dr Evensen. His surgery’s in Strandgaten.’

‘So, did you all go there in normal business hours?’

‘No, always in the evening. And there was never anybody else there.’

‘And this Dr Evensen, did he just examine you or -?’

‘Not just. But he didn’t always, erm, we didn’t always, see what I mean?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. And… who organised all this?’

She looked down. ‘It was K-K-Kenneth who talked me into it. He said… you could earn a real packet if you did.’ She pulled a face with a shudder of disgust. ‘Dead easy money… Just lie on your back and close your eyes.’

‘Listen, Astrid. I know it’s not easy to talk about it, but I know most of it already… They would ring you at Jimmy’s, wouldn’t they?’

‘They didn’t ring us!’

‘No, all right, but you got the jobs through Jimmy’s, didn’t you? Kalle, the guy behind the counter… you know he’s Kenneth’s brother?’

‘Yeah…’

‘And then – did you just turn up?’

She nodded.

‘Where?’

‘Different places.’

‘Cars?’

‘Yeah, that too.’

‘Other hotels, besides the Pastel?’

‘Various ones. But mostly it was there. The clients rented the room, and Kenneth took us up.’

‘What were they like, the clients?’

Her face set hard again. ‘Some of them could be fairly OK. There were a few I thought I recognised, from the papers.’

‘Politicians?’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Don’t follow all that stuff.’

‘They never said their names?’

She thought for a moment. ‘Sometimes they wanted you to call them something or other. But it was just their first names, that’s if it wasn’t just James or something daft like that.’

‘James?’

‘Yeah. Can you believe it? But most of them were horrible old bastards, like that one today! I’m dead certain he was a teacher, dead certain!’

‘And how were you paid?’

‘Cash in hand! But… Kenneth kept most of it, we had to give it to him, you see, and it was no use trying to put one over on him, because he always knew how much we’d got!’

I felt a knot in my stomach. ‘But Kenneth… it’s not like him to run a show like that on his own.’

‘Oh?’

‘Was he the one who’d contacted Dr Evensen, for example?’

‘It was him who made the appointments, at any rate.’

‘You never felt there was someone behind him?’

‘Think I cared if there was anybody behind him?’

‘What did you do with the money?’

She looked out of the window. ‘Bought stuff. Clothes and CDs. Partied.’

‘Drugs?’

She muttered something.

‘What was that?’

I used to have a puff now and then… and a few tablets. Nothing else.’

‘No hard drugs then?’

‘No!’ She looked me straight in the eye as she rolled up her sleeve. ‘Want to have a look?’

‘No need. I believe you when you say -’

‘I believe you when you -! You sound just as daft as those social freaks in Child Welfare and places! You’re all just as daft, the whole lot of you! You lot don’t have a fucking clue about – anything – about what it’s like to be young nowadays…’ Suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

I placed my hand cautiously on her shoulder to calm her down. ‘Take it easy, Astrid. Take it easy.’

Further up the street one of the parking department’s cars drove slowly past, on the lookout for a last kill of the day. I took a quick look at the parking meter. Then turned on the ignition and indicated a left-hand turn.

‘How long’s this gone on for, Astrid?’

‘Since – last autumn.’

‘Before you were sixteen, then?’

She shook her head firmly. ‘My birthday’s in August!’

‘But Torild’s birthday was only now, in January.’

She shrugged.

‘Was she mixed up in all this?’

Her eyes flashed. ‘She was just as daft as me! Don’t think that just because she comes from a better-class neighbourhood… She liked it, she did! I never have.’

‘And the parties, did she go to them too?’

‘She was the worst of the lot of us!’

‘Smoked dope and took tablets?’

‘Till her eyes popped out!’

‘Why did she do it, do you think?’

‘To get her own back on her parents for what they’d done to her. No doubt about it!’

‘Done? How do you mean?’

‘When they got divorced?

The car from the parking department stood there, its engine idling, waiting for me to drive off. I waved wearily to the meter men and drove the car off up the hill. Neither of them waved back.

‘The fellow who’s in custody for her murder. Helge Hagavik. Did you know him?’

‘Haven’t a clue who he is. But I bet I know his ugly mug… I told them I’d seen her at Jimmy’s with a guy.’

I drove down into Nygårdsgaten and took the outside lane so as not to irritate any drivers behind by driving at conversation pace.

I glanced quickly sideways. ‘Do you have any suspicions, can you think why she was murdered?’

‘No! Unless she… unless it was to punish her.’

‘Quite a tough punishment in that case.’

‘You don’t have a clue what they’re capable of, guys like – Kenneth.’

‘Oh yes I do, Astrid. I nearly killed one of them myself once.’

‘One of…’

‘One of that sort.’

I drove over Gamle Nygårds Bridge and moved into the left-hand lane up towards Danmarksplass. Outside the Forum Cinema stood a group of youths about the same age as Astrid. She hardly glanced at them.

I drove along Ibsensgate up to Haukeland and from there down Natlandsveien as far as Mannsverk. There was nothing left to say.

When I’d parked in front of the tower block, I said: ‘I’ll see you up.’

‘There’s no need!’

‘No, I will anyway.’

‘OK then,’ she replied, slamming the car door hard behind her.

We went into the tower block, pressed the button for the lift and stood there waiting.

‘Would you be willing to repeat to the police everything you’ve told me this evening?’

She shrugged sulkily. ‘Maybe.’

‘We could get him put away. Do you realise that?’

A hint of fear came over her face. ‘But – what d’you think he’ll do about that, though?’

‘He won’t be able to do anything, Astrid.’

The lift came and we got into it.

She pressed the button. ‘What about when he gets out, though?’

‘We’ll get him sent down again.’

‘We’ll get him sent down again!’ she said, mimicking me. ‘By then me and Gerd’ll most likely be dead – have you thought of that, clever dick?’

‘That’s never how it turns out, you know. Mostly it’s just empty threats.’

‘Mostly, yeah. But what about the one time they’re not empty?’

Yes, what about it? Doesn’t that go for me too?

We’d reached her floor now and went out of the lift and along the outside walkway. She rang the bell herself.

‘Haven’t you got the key?’

‘Forgot it, didn’t I?’

Gerd Nikolaisen answered the door. Her lip was less swollen now, but you could still see she’d been knocked about. The swelling round her eye had gone down, but the bruising was more obvious than before, despite the thick layer of make-up.

For a moment we just stood there looking at one another.

Then Astrid exclaimed: ‘Gerd! Who was it who -?! Was it that Kenneth?’

Her mother nodded. Her face was like a rigid mask, but there were tears in her eyes, and her neck began to redden.

‘Oh, Gerd!’ She threw her arms round her.

I half-turned away, as if this was too private a matter for me to be involved in. If I looked up, I could see past Landås and up to Ulriken, where the TV mast stood like a floodlit finger pointing at all of us: Big Brother is watching you. If you step out of line, you’ll be pilloried on the News Programme.

In front of us lay Mannsverk, a district still quite well lit at eleven o’clock in the evening on a gloomy February night: a random collection of housing blocks of various types and sizes, not unlike a moraine left over from the last Ice Age, the difference being that the New Ice Age lay within us.

‘Do you still need me for anything?’ I asked.

They looked at me as though they’d forgotten I was there. Astrid’s mother said: ‘No, but thanks for – finding her.’ Her daughter just shook her head.

‘You two need to have a real heart-to-heart, about everything.’ I looked at Astrid. ‘Then I’ll tell the police what you’ve told me.’

The look on Gerd Nikolaisen’s face suddenly altered. With one movement she pushed her daughter behind her and came right out onto the walkway. ‘I don’t want the police mixed up in this, Veum! It’s private – we have our private life as well, you know!’

‘Understood, but Astrid’s just told me that -’

‘Astrid!’ She turned to face her daughter. ‘Tell him you don’t want this to go any further!’

Astrid looked hesitantly from her mother to me. ‘N-no, when you…’

‘It’s not about your private life,’ I said to her mother. ‘It’s about what your daughter’s been up to the last six months. It’s important for a murder case! It’s no good brushing it under the carpet!’

‘We’ll deny everything! We won’t say another word! Right, Astrid?’ She turned to her daughter for support.

Astrid Nikolaisen nodded feebly, shrugged her shoulders and, avoiding my eyes, went back into the flat.

Gerd Nikolaisen looked at me in triumph. ‘So that’s that!’ she said, putting an end to the matter once and for all, following her daughter and slamming the door so hard that I half expected the neighbours to come out to see what was going on. But when I came to think of it, no, they wouldn’t. This was what they were used to.

Getting into my car I looked at the clock again. Five to eleven. Fløenbakken awaited me.

I took a good look round before parking the car in front of the low-rise block Karin lived in. But I didn’t see a living soul. Not so much as a tomcat on the prowl.

Karin sat up waiting for me, frowning. Somebody or other had rung and invited her to the funeral.