solicitor, denies that his client is guilty.
Gundersen then reviews the story, explains what has happened, when it happened and how the story has developed in the course of the day. He also includes a quote from Chief Inspector Gjerstad, a quote Henning recognises from the press conference.
Noise continues to come from the stairwell. He checks FireCracker 2.0 again. He is still the only user to be logged on. He decides not to log out in case 6tiermes7 logs on during the evening or overnight. But he has a sinking feeling that’s not going to happen.
He sighs and stares blankly at the wall. His first day back at work is over and done with. He thinks about the people he met: Kare, Heidi, Nora, Iver, Anette. After just one day at work, he has acquired knowledge and formed relationships he could, quite happily, have done without. Memories are returning, memories he had hoped would remain in the darkness.
He thinks about Nora, what she is doing now, if she is with Gundersen. Of course she is. Mister Super Fucking Corduroy. They are probably having dinner. In a restaurant. Swapping stories about their day, what they will do when they get home, under the duvet, or on top of it, possibly.
He decides not to think about it and hopes that the evening and the night will come quickly.
*
The stomping still hasn’t ended. Henning gets up to investigate. An elderly man is on his way up the stairs when Henning peers out. The man is wheezing. He is dressed in shorts only, nothing on his upper body. Despite his age — Henning reckons he is well in excess of seventy — he still has plenty of muscles. They look at each other. The man is about to carry on, but stops and takes another look at Henning.
‘Have you just moved in?’ he asks.
‘No,’ Henning replies. ‘I’ve lived here for six months.’
‘Oh, have you? I live just below you.’
‘Right.’
He walks down to Henning and holds out his hand.
‘Gunnar Goma. I’ve had bypass surgery. Four veins.’
He points to a huge scar on his chest. Henning nods and shakes his hand.
‘That’s why I’m out of breath. I’ve getting back in shape. So I can satisfy the ladies, he-he.’
‘Henning Juul.’
‘And I go commando.’
‘Thanks for sharing that with me.’
‘Fancy a coffee some day?’
Henning nods again. He likes coffee, but he thinks it is unlikely that he will ever be drinking coffee with Gunnar Goma. Though, on second thoughts, the invitation isn’t entirely unwelcome.
He hears a ping from his laptop as he goes inside. He remembers that ping. Ding-dong, like a doorbell. It means someone has sent him a message via FireCracker.
6tiermes7. It has to be.
He quickly sits down, moves the mouse and wakes up the screen. He closes all other windows so only FireCracker is open. He looks at the screen. A small square window has popped up. Inside it says: 6tiermes7: Judge.
To be absolutely sure that no one else can use the program, they have agreed numerous code words. The person making contact writes the first part of the word. If the person responding gives the correct continuation, they are safe.
He smiles and replies: MakkaPakka: Devil.
He is rewarded by a smiley.
6tiermes7 and Henning have chatted about much besides evidence and cases under investigation. He got his nickname, MakkaPakka, because 6tiermes7 knows Henning loathes In the Night Garden, a half-hour children’s television programme which NRK broadcasts every afternoon before television for older children begins. The characters in In the Night Garden never say very much, instead they make sounds which correspond to their names. Igglepiggle, Upsy Daisy, Makka Pakka, the Tombliboos and the Ninky Nonk.
He is convinced that 6tiermes7 enjoys teasing him whenever they chat, no matter what motivates him or her. MakkaPakka: I wasn’t sure that you still existed.
6tiermes7: Or that you did. We’ve missed you.
MakkaPakka: Thank you.
6tiermes7: So you’re back? I heard you came to the press conference today.
MakkaPakka: Who told you that?
6tiermes7: The Prime Minister. What do you take me for?
Henning sends a smiley. 6tiermes7: What’s up?
MakkaPakka: Henriette Hagerup. What do you take me for?
More smileys. 6tiermes7: What do you want?
MakkaPakka: Everything you have — or haven’t got.
6tiermes7: You certainly don’t waste time.
MakkaPakka: Haven’t got time to waste. Have they got something worthwhile on — what’s his name?
He doesn’t get an immediate response. Perhaps I was too rash or pushy, he thinks. A minute passes. And another. He slumps. Finally, a message pops up. 6tiermes7: Sorry. Loo break.
More smileys. 6tiermes7: His name is Mahmoud Marhoni. Her boyfriend. Fled when Sergeant Sandland and Inspector Brogeland turned up at his flat. Set fire to his laptop. Looks like he argued with HH the night she was killed. Compromising text messages from her to him.
MakkaPakka: Did you manage to save his laptop?
6tiermes7: Don’t know yet.
MakkaPakka: Okay. Was Hagerup stoned to death?
6tiermes7: Stoned, flogged, hand chopped off. She had stun gun marks on her neck.
MakkaPakka: A stun gun? Like a cattle prod?
6tiermes7: Yes.
This doesn’t sound anything like an honour killing, Henning thinks. More like sharia and hudud. Something doesn’t add up. MakkaPakka: Does MM have form?
6tiermes7: No.
MakkaPakka: What does Gjerstad think?
6tiermes7: Not much yet. Think he is glad to see some progress.
MakkaPakka: Does MM have any family?
6tiermes7: A brother. Tariq. They share a flat.
MakkaPakka: You said something about compromising text messages. Compromising how?
6tiermes7: Think she has been unfaithful.
MakkaPakka: And that’s why she was killed? Is that why you’re thinking honour killing?
6tiermes7: Don’t know.
I bet Iver Gundersen doesn’t know about this, Henning thinks and nods to himself. A plan is taking shape. He likes plans. But he doesn’t like shortcuts.
And he has a feeling that the police are taking that route.
Chapter 20
Dreams. Henning wishes there was a button he could press to shut off access to his subconscious at night. He has just woken up, his eyes adjust to the darkness while he gasps for air. He is burning hot. It isn’t morning yet, but he is wide awake. And he has been dreaming again.
He dreamt they had gone to the playground in Sofienberg Park, Jonas and he. It was winter, it was cold. He cleared a bench of snow and frost and sat drinking lovely hot coffee from a plastic cup, while he watched Jonas’s grinning face, flushed cheeks and cloudy breath underneath the pale blue woolly hat which was pushed too far down
