‘But?’
‘But you told me you own a neighbouring property, so it probably goes there.’
The old boy smiled with satisfaction. ‘Guess how old the tunnel is.’
‘Old. The walls were green with moss.’
‘Algae. After the Resistance movement had made four failed attacks on this house the Gestapo boss had a tunnel built. They succeeded in keeping it secret. When Reinhard came home in the afternoon he came in through the front door here so that everyone could see. He switched on the light and then walked through the tunnel to his real home next door and sent the German lieutenant everyone thought lived over there, over here. And this lieutenant strutted around, often close to windows, wearing the same kind of uniform as his Gestapo boss.’
‘He was a decoy.’
‘Correct.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I want you to know what real life is like, Gusto. Most people in this country don’t know anything about it, don’t know how much it costs to survive in real life. But I’m telling you all this because I want you to remember that I trusted you.’
He looked at me as if what he was saying was very important. I pretended to understand; I wanted to go home. Perhaps he could see that.
‘Nice to see you, Gusto. Andrey will drive you both back.’
When the car passed the university there must have been some student gig taking place on campus. We could hear the thrashing guitars of a rock band playing on an outdoor stage. Young people streamed towards us down Blindernveien. Happy, expectant faces, as if they had been promised something, a future or some such thing.
‘What’s that?’ asked Oleg, who was still blindfolded.
‘That,’ I said, ‘is unreal life.’
‘And you’ve no idea how he drowned?’ Harry asked.
‘No,’ Oleg said. ‘The foot-pumping had increased; his whole body was vibrating.
‘OK, so you were blindfolded, but tell me everything you can remember about the journey to and from this place. All the noises. When you got out of the car, for example, did you hear a train or a tram?’
‘No. But it was raining when we arrived, so basically that is what I heard.’
‘Heavy rain, light rain?’
‘Light. I hardly felt it as we left the car. But that was when I heard it.’
‘OK, if light rain doesn’t usually make much noise it might when it falls on leaves?’
‘Possibly.’
‘What was under your feet going towards the front door? Tarmac? Flagstones? Grass?’
‘Shingle. I think. Yes, there was a crunch. That’s how I knew where Peter was. He’s the heaviest, so he crunched most.’
‘Good. Steps by the door?’
‘Yes.’
‘How many?’
Oleg groaned.
‘OK,’ Harry said. ‘Was it still raining by the door?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I mean, was it in your hair?’
‘Yes.’
‘So no porch-type structure then.’
‘Are you planning to search for places in Oslo without a porch?’
‘Well, different parts of Oslo were built in different periods, and they have a number of common features.’
‘And what’s the period for timber houses, shingle paths and steps to a door without an overhang or nearby tramlines?’
‘You sound like a chief superintendent.’ Harry did not reap the smile or laughter he had hoped he would. ‘When you left did you notice any sounds close by?’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as the peeping of the pedestrian crossing.’
‘No, nothing like that. But there was music.’
‘Recorded or live?’
‘Live, I think. The cymbals were clear. You could hear the guitars, sort of floating and fading on the wind.’
‘Sounds live. Well remembered.’
‘I only remember because they were playing one of your songs.’
‘ My songs?’
‘From one of your records. I remember because Gusto said this was unreal life, and I thought that must have been an unconscious train of thought. He must have heard the line they had just sung.’
‘Which line?’
‘Something about a dream. I’ve forgotten, but you used to play that song all the time.’
‘Come on, Oleg, this is important.’
Oleg looked at Harry. His feet stopped tapping. He closed his eyes and tried humming a tune. ‘ It’s just a dreamy Gonzales…’ He opened his eyes, his face was red. ‘Something like that.’
Harry hummed it to himself. And shook his head.
‘Sorry,’ Oleg said, ‘I’m not sure, and it lasted only a few seconds.’
‘That’s fine,’ Harry said, patting the boy’s shoulder. ‘Tell me what happened at Alnabru then.’
Oleg’s foot started up again. He took two breaths, two deep mouthfuls of air, as he had learned to do on the start line before he crouched down. Then he spoke.
Afterwards Harry sat for a long time rubbing the back of his neck. ‘So you drilled a man to death?’
‘We didn’t. A policeman did.’
‘Whose name you don’t know. Or where he worked.’
‘No, both Gusto and he were careful about that. Gusto said it was best if I didn’t know.’
‘And you’ve no idea what happened to the body?’
‘No. Are you going to report me?’
‘No.’ Harry took his pack of cigarettes and flipped out a smoke.
‘Do I get one?’ Oleg asked.
‘Sorry, son. Bad for your health.’
‘But-’
‘On one condition. That you let Hans Christian hide you and leave it to me to find Irene.’
Oleg stared at the blocks of flats on the hill behind the stadium. Flowerboxes still hung from the balconies. Harry studied his profile. The Adam’s apple going up and down the slim neck.
‘Deal,’ he said.
‘Good.’ Harry passed him a cigarette and lit up for both of them.
‘Now I understand the metal finger,’ Oleg said. ‘It’s so that you can smoke.’
‘Yep,’ Harry said, holding the cigarette between the titanium prosthesis and his index finger while selecting Rakel’s number. He didn’t need to ask for Hans Christian’s number as he was there with her. The solicitor said he would come at once.
Oleg bent double as if it had suddenly become colder. ‘Where’s he going to hide me?’
‘I don’t know, and I don’t want to know either.’
‘Why not?’
‘I have such sensitive testicles. I spill the beans at the very mention of the words car battery.’
Oleg laughed. It was short, but it was laughter. ‘I don’t believe that. You’d let them take your life before you said a word.’
Harry eyed the boy. He could crack weak jokes all day if only to see those glimpses of a smile.
