'Shame we never met on the law course, Harry.'
'I was a muppet at the time,' Harry said. 'I was aggressive towards everyone who didn't like the same records or films as I did. No one liked me. Not even I did.'
'Now I don't believe that.'
'I pinched it from a film. The guy who said it was chatting up Mia Farrow. In the film, that is. I've never tried it out in real life.'
'Well,' she said, cautiously tasting the margarita. 'I think that was a good start. But are you sure you didn't pinch the bit about pinching it too?'
They laughed and discussed good and bad films, good and bad gigs they had been to, and after a while Harry was aware that he would have to amend his first impressions of her. For instance, she had travelled round the world on her own when she was twenty, at an age when all Harry had to show, in terms of adult experiences, was a failed Inter-Railing trip and a growing alcohol problem.
She checked her watch.
'Eleven. I have someone waiting for me.'
Harry felt his heart sink.
'Me too,' he said, getting up.
'Oh?'
'Just a monster I keep under the bed. Let me drive you home.' She smiled. 'That's not necessary.'
'It's practically on the way.’
‘You also live in Holmenkollen?’
‘Close by. Or quite close by. Bislett.' She laughed.
'On the other side of the city then. I know what you're after.' Harry smiled sheepishly. She put a hand on his arm. 'You need someone to push the car, don't you?'
'Looks like he's gone, Helge,' Ellen said.
She stood by the window with her coat on, peeping out between the curtains. The street below was empty; the taxi which had been waiting there had gone off with three high-spirited party girls. Helge didn't answer. The one-winged bird blinked twice and scratched its stomach with a foot.
She tried Harry's mobile once again, but the same woman's voice repeated that the phone was switched off or was in an area with poor coverage.
Then Ellen put the cloth over the cage, said goodnight, turned off the light and let herself out. Jens Bjelkes gate was still deserted as she hurried towards Thorvald Meyers gate, which she knew would be teeming with people at this time on a Saturday night. Outside Fru Hagen restaurant she nodded to a couple of people she must have exchanged a few words with one damp evening here in Grunerlokka's well-lit streets. She suddenly remembered she had promised to buy Kim some cigarettes and turned to go down to the 7-Eleven in Markveien. She saw a new face she vaguely recognised and automatically smiled when she saw him looking at her.
In the 7-Eleven she paused and tried to recall whether Kim smoked Camel or Camel Lights, realising how little time they had spent together. And how much they still had to learn about each other. And that for the first time in her life it didn't frighten her, but it was something she was looking forward to. She was so utterly happy. The thought of him lying naked in bed, three blocks away from where she was standing filled her with dull, delicious cravings. She opted for Camel, waited impatiently to be served. Outside in the street, she opted for the short cut along the Akerselva.
It struck her how little distance there was between a seething mass of people and total desolation in a large city. Suddenly all she could hear was the gurgle of the river and the sound of snow groaning beneath her boots. And it was too late to rue taking the short cut when she became aware that it was not only her own steps she could hear. Now she could hear breathing too, heavy, panting. Frightened and angry, Ellen thought that, no, she knew, at that moment her life was in danger. She didn't turn, she simply started to run. The steps behind her immediately fell into the same tempo. She tried to run calmly, tried not to panic or run with flailing arms and legs. Don't run like an old woman, she thought, and her hand moved for the gas spray in her coat pocket, but the steps behind her were relentless, coming ever closer. She thought that if she could reach the single cone of light on the path, she would be saved. She knew it wasn't true. She was directly under the light when the first blow hit her shoulder and knocked her sideways into the snowdrift. The second blow paralysed her arm and the gas spray slipped out of her unfeeling hand. The third smashed her left kneecap; the pain obstructed the scream muted deep in her throat and caused her veins to bulge out in the winter-pale skin of her neck. She saw him raise the wooden baseball bat in the yellow street light. She recognised him now, the same man she had seen turn round outside Fru Hagen. The policewoman in her noticed that he was wearing a short green jacket, black boots and a black combat cap. The first blow to the head destroyed the optic nerve and now all she saw was the pitch black night.
Forty per cent of hedge sparrows survive, she thought. I'll get through this winter.
Her fingers fumbled in the snow for something to hold on to. The second blow hit her on the back of the head.
There's not long to go now, she thought. I'll survive this winter.
Harry pulled up by the drive to Rakel Fauke's house in Holmenkollveien. The white moonlight lent her skin an unreal, wan sheen and even in the semi-darkness inside the car he could see from her eyes that she was tired.
'So that was that,' Rakel said.
'That was that,' Harry said.
'I would like to invite you up, but…'
Harry laughed. 'I assume Oleg would not appreciate that.'
'Oleg is sleeping sweetly, but I was thinking of his babysitter.'
'Babysitter?'
'Oleg's babysitter is the daughter of someone in POT. Please don't misunderstand me, but I don't want any rumours at work.'
Harry stared at the instruments on the dashboard. The glass over the speedometer had cracked and he suspected that the fuse for the oil lamp had gone.
'Is Oleg your child?'
'Yes, what did you think?'
'Well, I may have thought you were talking about your partner.’
‘What partner?'
The cigarette lighter must have been either thrown out of the window or stolen along with the radio.
'I had Oleg when I was in Moscow,' she said. 'His father and I lived together for two years.'
'What happened?'
She shrugged.
'Nothing happened. We simply fell out of love. And I came back to Oslo.'
'So you are…'
A single mum. What about you?’
‘Single. Only single.'
'Before you began with us, someone mentioned something about you and the girl you shared an office with in Crime Squad.'
'Ellen? No. We just got on well. Get on well. She still helps me out now and then.'
'What with?'
'The case I'm working on.'
'Oh, I see, the case.'
She looked at her watch again.
'Shall I help you to get the door open?' Harry asked.
She smiled, shook her head and gave it a shove with her shoulder. The door squealed on its hinges as it swung open.
The Holmenkollen slopes were quiet, except for a gentle whistling in the fir trees. She placed a foot in the snow outside.
'Goodnight, Harry.'
'Just one thing.'
'Yes?'
