‘Such as?’
‘Dubai maybe. Besides, I don’t think Adidas killed Gusto.’
‘Why not?’
‘A hardened dealer suddenly confessing out of the blue?’
‘See your point,’ Bellman said. ‘But it is a confession. And a good one.’
‘And it’s just a drugs killing,’ Harry continued, ducking a stray ball. ‘And you’ve got enough cases to crack.’
Bellman sighed. ‘It’s the same as it’s always been, Harry. Our resources are under too much pressure for us to be able to prioritise cases for which we already have a solution.’
‘ A solution? What about the solution?’
‘As boss one is obliged to acquire slippery formulations.’
‘OK, so let me offer you two case solutions. In exchange for help with finding a house.’
Bellman stopped hitting balls. ‘What?’
‘A killing in Alnabru. A biker called Tutu. A source informed me he got a drill through his head.’
‘And the source is willing to testify?’
‘Maybe.’
‘And the second?’
‘The undercover guy who washed up by the Opera House. Same source saw him dead on Dubai’s cellar floor.’
Bellman scrunched up one eye. The pigment stains flared up and Harry was reminded of a tiger.
‘Dad!’
‘Go and fill the water bottle in the dressing room, Filip.’
‘The dressing room’s locked, Dad!’
‘And the code is?’
‘The year the king was born, but I don’t remember-’
‘Remember and quench your thirst, Filip.’
The boy shuffled through the gate, arms hanging by his sides.
‘What do you want, Harry?’
‘I want a team combing the area around Frederikkeplassen, at the university, over a radius of one kilometre. I want a list of all the detached houses that fit this description.’ He passed Bellman a sheet of paper.
‘What happened at Frederikkeplassen?’
‘Just a concert.’
Realising he wasn’t going to be told any more, Bellman looked down at the paper and read aloud: ‘“Old timber house with long shingle drive, deciduous trees and steps by the front door, no overhang”? Sounds like a description of half the houses in Blindern. What are you after?’
Harry lit a smoke. ‘A rat’s nest. An eagle’s lair.’
‘And if we find it, what then?’
‘You and your officers need a search warrant to be able to do anything while a normal civilian like me could get lost one autumn evening and be forced to take refuge in the nearest house.’
‘OK, I’ll see what I can do. But explain to me first why you’re so keen to catch this Dubai.’
Harry shrugged. ‘Professional deformation perhaps. Get the list and email it to the address at the bottom. Then we’ll see what I can get for you.’
Filip returned without water as Harry was leaving, and on his way to the car he heard a ball hit the racket frame and a low curse.
Distant cannons rumbled in the armada of clouds, and it was as dark as night when Harry got into his car. He started the engine and rang Hans Christian Simonsen.
‘Harry here. What are the current penalties for grave desecration?’
‘Er, four to six years, I would guess.’
‘Are you willing to risk that?’
A tiny pause. Then: ‘To what end?’
‘To catch the person who killed Gusto. And perhaps the person who’s after Oleg.’
‘And if I’m not willing?’
A very tiny pause. ‘I’m in.’
‘OK, find out where Gusto is buried and get some spades, a torch, nail scissors and two screwdrivers. We’ll do it tomorrow night.’
As Harry drove across Solli plass the rain came. It lashed the rooftops, lashed the streets, lashed the man standing in Kvadraturen opposite the open door to the bar.
The boy in reception sent Harry a dour look as he came in.
‘Would you like to borrow an umbrella?’
‘Not unless your hotel’s leaking,’ Harry said, running a hand through his brush-like hair and sending a fine spray through the air. ‘Any messages?’
The boy laughed as if it were a joke.
As Harry was climbing the stairs to the second floor he thought he heard footsteps further down and stopped. Listened. Silence. Either it had been the echo of his own steps he had heard, or else the other person had stopped as well.
Harry walked on slowly. In the corridor he increased his speed, inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. Scanned the darkened room and peered across the yard to the woman’s illuminated room. No one there. No one there, no one here.
He switched on the light.
As it came on he saw his reflection in the window. And someone else standing behind him. At once he felt a heavy hand squeeze his shoulder.
Only a phantom can be so fast and silent, Harry thought, whirling round, but he knew it was already too late.
27
‘I saw them. Once. It was like a wake.’
Cato still had his large, dirty hand resting on Harry’s shoulder.
Harry heard himself gasp and felt his lungs pressing against the inside of his ribs.
‘Who?’
‘I was talking to someone selling the devilry. His name was Bisken and he wore a leather dog collar. He came to me because he was frightened. The police had hauled him in for possession of heroin, and he had told Beret Man where Dubai lived. Beret Man had promised him protection and an amnesty if he would testify in court. And while I was standing there they came in a black car. Black suits, black gloves. He was old. Broad face. He looked like a white aborigine.’
‘Who?’
‘I saw him, but… he wasn’t there. Like a phantom. And when Bisken saw him he didn’t move, didn’t try to run or struggle when they took him with them. After they’d gone it was as if I’d dreamt it all up.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘Because I’m a coward. Have you got a ciggy?’
Harry gave him the pack, and Cato fell into the chair.
‘You’re chasing a ghost, and I don’t want to be involved.’
‘But?’
Cato shrugged and held out his hand. Harry passed him the lighter.
‘I’m an old, dying man. I have nothing to lose.’
‘Are you dying?’
Cato lit his cigarette. ‘It’s not acute, perhaps, but we’re all dying, Harry. I just want to help you.’
