previous time they had stood here at the top of the mountain. It was funny to think that six minutes on the cable car from the centre of the second biggest town in Norway there were people who got lost and died. And to imagine you are at the heart of what you think is justice and then suddenly lose all sense of direction and become the very thing you oppose. He thought of all the mental calculations he had gone through, all the major and minor decisions that had led to the last minutes in Gardemoen Airport.
'And what about if I am not so different from you, boss? What about if I said I could be standing where you are now?'
Moller shrugged. 'It's chance and nuances that separate the hero from the villain. That's how it's always been. Righteousness is the virtue of the lazy and the visionless. Without lawbreakers and disobedience we would still have been living in a feudal society. I lost, Harry; it's as simple as that. I believed in something, but I was blinded, and by the time I regained my sight I had been corrupted. It happens all the time.'
Harry shivered in the wind and searched for words. When he finally found some his voice sounded alien and tormented. 'Sorry, boss. I can't arrest you.'
'That's fine, Harry. I'll sort out the rest myself from here.' Moller's voice sounded calm, almost consoling. 'I just wanted you to see everything. And understand. And perhaps learn. There was no more to it than that.'
Harry stared into the impenetrable mist and tried in vain to do as his boss and friend had asked him to do: 'to see everything'. Harry kept his eyes open until the tears came. When he turned round, Bjarne Moller had gone. He called his name in the mist even though he knew that Moller was right: there was no more to it than that. But he thought someone ought to call his name anyway.
