‘I think you may have misunderstood,’ Pulli says and gives Henning a condescending look.
‘Not at all. You need my help. I need yours. Give me something, anything, which I can check out so I’ll know if there is more where that came from.’
Pulli looks at Henning in disbelief, but he says nothing.
‘What guarantee do I have that you’ll scratch my back if I scratch yours first?’ Henning continues.
‘You have my word.’
‘Yes, that’s all very well, but I know nothing about what your word or code of honour is worth, especially when you have nothing to lose. And you came to me, an investigative reporter who hasn’t been particularly active in the last couple of years, and that makes me suspicious. You already know that my son is dead, that there was a fire in my home, and you’re dangling the world’s biggest carrot in front of me. How can I be sure that you aren’t just playing me because you’re bored with the colour of the walls in here? I need to know if this is a scam, Pulli.’
Pulli takes a sip of his tea and puts down the cup. ‘If I tell you everything I know now, you’ve no incentive to help me.’
‘If you’re innocent, then yes, I do. I don’t like miscarriages of justice.’
Pulli smiles again. ‘I can’t wait that long.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If I tell you everything today, you’ll be chasing that lead until you can’t get any further, and in the meantime you won’t give a damn about me. Besides, I’m not sure that you’ll get very far or live very long.’
Henning looks at Pulli. ‘So we’re talking about dangerous people?’
‘What do you think? You’re no use to me if you’re dead, and I don’t have very much time. My appeal is about to be heard.’
‘Okay, I hear what you’re saying. But-’
‘It was raining,’ Pulli says. ‘That day.’
Henning looks at him for a few seconds before he snorts. ‘Thanks, I already knew that. Anyone could have found that out.’
‘I was sitting in a car outside your flat that night. The windscreen wipers were going all the time.’
‘Why were you there?’
‘That’s not important right now. The point isn’t why I was there.’
‘So what is the point?’
‘The point is that I saw someone who had no business being there enter and go through to the courtyard.’
A knot tightens in Henning’s stomach. ‘How do you know he had no business being there?’
‘Because I know who he is.’
Henning straightens up a little. ‘Who is he?’
Pulli smiles. ‘Nice try, but this will have to do for now.’
‘No, it bloody won’t! How did you know he had no reason being there?’
Pulli sighs. ‘He didn’t live there, and, as far as I know, he didn’t know anyone in the building either. It wasn’t his kind of neighbourhood.’
‘But he knew me or he knew who I was?’
Pulli looks away before he takes another sip of his tea. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Come on, of course you do. I can see it in your face.’
‘No.’
Henning studies Pulli for a long time. ‘How did you know that I lived there?’
‘Eh?’
‘You were sitting outside my flat, you said, and you knew that I lived there. How did you know that?’
‘There were stories about you in the paper in the days that followed. I put two and two together.’
‘Just so,’ Henning says, reluctantly. ‘This man, where do you know him from?’
‘That’s enough.’
‘No.’
‘I’m not giving you any more.’
‘How did he get in?’
‘Eh?’
‘Into the courtyard. Did he break in? Did he have a key? Did he ring anyone’s bell?’
‘It was difficult to see from where I was sitting. But he gained entry. And that’s all I’m going to give you. This time.’
‘Was he carrying anything?’
Pulli sighs again. ‘A bag.’
‘Black? Blue? White?’
‘I couldn’t see. It was dark. And that’s it.’
Henning snorts again. ‘You could easily have made up everything you’ve just told me.’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘Not necessarily, but we have an inherent problem. I can’t check what you’ve just said. A man entering the courtyard as it was getting dark? Come on, Pulli.’
‘I’m telling you the truth’
‘Yes, I heard you the first time.’
‘Look at me,’ Pulli says, leaning forwards aggressively. ‘Do I look like a liar?’
Irene Otnes’s words come back to Henning as he examines Pulli’s face. He hears his breathing quicken as he focuses on the eyes, staring deeply into Pulli’s irises.
‘I don’t know,’ Henning says, at last.
‘No, you don’t, do you?’ Pulli says wearily and leans back. ‘You’ll have to make up your mind what your son’s life is worth. I guarantee that you’ll be interested in what I know. If that isn’t enough for you, I suggest you leave now.’
Pulli looks away. He’s angry, Henning thinks. Either that or he’s a brilliant actor. Henning inspects Pulli a little longer before he nods.
‘Okay,’ he says.
Chapter 28
Thank God it’s nearly lunchtime, Thorleif Brenden thinks and hugs his stomach, which has been troubling him recently. He hopes he isn’t coming down with something.
His computer pings to alert him to an incoming email. Thorleif leans towards the screen, minimises a web page and brings up his inbox. He doesn’t recognise the sender, but the title in the subject field makes him open the new email.
‘Elisabeth — survey’
The email has an attachment, a photograph. He downloads it. Elisabeth appears, talking to someone whose profile he can only just make out. She is holding up one hand, but not high enough to cover her face like she often does when she is talking or explaining something. The picture has a date stamp in the bottom right-hand corner.
Thorleif’s eyes widen. It was taken yesterday. It must be Elisabeth’s ‘Your Say’ interview, he thinks. The man she is talking to is wearing a black leather jacket and dark trousers. He has no distinguishing features apart from his height and ponytail. The man must be at least two heads taller than her. Why would anyone send him this picture?
Thorleif is about to call Elisabeth to ask if the picture has also been sent to her when he clicks to close it and sees the sender’s email address: murder@hushmail. com. He looks up over the screen. Murder? As in murder? What on earth…?
Thorleif leans back in his chair and tries to remember what Elisabeth told him about the interview, the questions she was asked. Crime and immigration, was it? Or organised crime, Elisabeth hadn’t been entirely sure.
