'You said that you weren't very close, but you told him about some of your experiences on the Eastern Front?'
'Yes, of course. Not a lot else was happening in the forest. For the most part we were moving around and keeping an eye on the Germans. And there were quite a few long stories while we were waiting.'
'Did you talk much about Daniel Gudeson?'
Fauke stared at Harry.
'So, you've found out that Even Juul is obsessed by Daniel Gudeson?’
‘I'm just guessing for the time being,' Harry said. 'Yes, I talked about Daniel a lot,' Fauke said. 'He was like a legend, Daniel Gudeson was. It's rare to meet such a free, strong and happy spirit as him. And Even was fascinated by the stories. I had to tell them again and again, especially the one about the Russian he went into no man's land to bury.'
'Did he know that Daniel had been to Sennheim during the war?'
'Of course. Even remembered all the details about Daniel I was beginning to forget and he reminded me. For some reason, he seemed to have totally identified with Daniel, although I can hardly imagine two more different people. Once when Even was drunk he suggested I start to call him Uriah, just as Daniel had done. And if you ask me, it was no coincidence that he only had eyes for young Signe Alsaker at the end of the war.'
'Oh?'
'When he found out that Daniel Gudeson's fiancee's case was due to come up, he went to the courtroom and sat there all day just looking at her. It was as if he had decided in advance that he was going to have her.'
'Because she had been Daniel's girl?'
'Are you sure this is important?' Fauke asked, walking up the path towards the hill so quickly that Harry had to walk faster to keep up with him.
'Absolutely.'
'I'm not sure if I should say this but, personally, I believe Even Juul loved the myth of Daniel Gudeson more than he ever loved Signe Juul. I'm sure that his admiration for Gudeson was a strong contributory factor in his not resuming medical studies after the war, but studying history instead. Naturally enough, he specialised in the history of the Norwegian Occupation and the Norwegian soldiers at the Eastern Front.'
They had arrived at the top and Harry wiped away his sweat. Fauke was hardly out of breath.
'One of the reasons that Even Juul established himself so quickly as a historian was that as a former Resistance man he was a perfect instrument for writing the history that the authorities felt postwar Norway deserved. By keeping quiet about the widespread collaboration with the Germans and focusing on the little resistance there was. For instance, Juul devotes five pages to the sinking of the Blucher on the night leading to 9 April in his history book, but he quietly ignores the fact that prosecutions against almost 100,000 Norwegians were being considered at the trials. And it worked. The myths of a Norwegian population fighting shoulder to shoulder against Nazism live on today'
'Is that what your book will be about, herr Fauke?'
'I'm only trying to tell the truth. Even knew that what he was writing was, if not lies, then a distortion of the truth. We talked about it once. He defended himself by saying that it served the purpose of bringing the people together. The only thing he couldn't bring himself to put in the desired heroic light was the King's escape to freedom. He wasn't the only Resistance man who felt deserted in 1940, but I've never met anyone so one-sidedly condemnatory as Even, not even among soldiers on the front. Remember that all his life he had been abandoned by people he loved and trusted. I think he hated every single one of them who left for London with the whole of his heart. Really.'
They sat down on a bench and looked down over Fagerborg church, the roofs in Pilestredet which led down towards the town and the blue Oslo fjord twinkling far away.
'It's beautiful,' Fauke said. 'So beautiful that it can sometimes seem worth dying for.'
Harry tried to take it all in, to make it fit. But there was one minor detail missing.
'Even began to study medicine in Germany before the war. Do you know where in Germany?’
‘No,' Fauke said.
'Do you know if he had any specialisation in mind?’
‘Yes, he told me that he dreamed of following in the footsteps of his famous foster father and his father.’
‘And they were?'
'You don't know about the Juul consultants? They were surgeons.'
89
Gronlandsleiret. 16 May 2000.
Bjarne Moller, Halvorsen and Harry were walking side by side down Motzfeldts gate. They were in deepest Little Karachi and the smells, the clothes and the people around them reminded them as little of Norway as the kebabs they were chewing on reminded them of Norwegian grilled sausages. A boy, dressed up for the festivities in a Pakistani style, but with a 17 May ribbon on his gilt jacket lapels, came skipping down the pavement towards them. He had a strange, snubbed nose and was holding a Norwegian flag in his hand. Harry had read in the papers that Muslim parents were arranging a 17 May party for children today so that they could concentrate on Eid tomorrow. 'Hurrah!'
The boy flashed them a white smile as he sped past.
'Even Juul is not just anyone,' Moller was saying. 'He's perhaps our greatest authority on war history. If this is right, there'll be a hell of a fuss in the newspapers. It doesn't bear thinking about, if we're mistaken. If you are mistaken, Harry.'
All I'm asking for is permission to bring him in for questioning, with a psychologist present. And a search warrant for his house.'
And all I'm asking for is at least one piece of evidence or a witness,' Moller said, gesticulating. 'Juul is well- known, and no one has seen him anywhere near the crime scenes. Not once. What about the telephone call Brandhaug's wife received from your local hostelry, for example?'
I showed the photo of Even Juul to the woman working at Schroder's,' Halvorsen said.
'Maja,' Harry prompted.
'She couldn't remember seeing him,' Halvorsen said. 'That's exactly what I'm saying,' Moller groaned, wiping the sauce from his mouth.
'Yes, but I showed the photo to a couple of them sitting there,' Halvorsen said, casting a quick glance at Harry. 'There was an old guy in a coat who nodded and said we should arrest that one.'
'Coat,' Harry repeated. 'That's the Mohican, Konrad Asnes, wartime seaman. He's quite a character, but not a reliable witness any more, I'm afraid. Anyway, Juul has told us that he was at the Kaffebrenneri across the road. There are no pay phones over there. So if he was going to ring it would be natural to go over to Schroder's.'
Moller pulled a face and looked sceptically at his kebab. He had only tagged along, somewhat unwillingly, to try the burek kebab which Harry had talked up as 'Turkey meets Bosnia meets Pakistan meets Gronlandsleiret'.
'And do you really believe all that split-personality stuff, Harry?'
I think it sounds just as incredible as you do, boss, but Aune reckons it's a possibility. And he's willing to help us.'
And so you think Aune can hypnotise Juul and can coax out this Daniel Gudeson inside him and get a confession?'
'It's not definite that Even Juul has any idea what Daniel Gudeson has done, so it's absolutely essential that we speak to him,' Harry said. According to Aune, people suffering from MPDs are very susceptible to hypnosis, since that's what they're doing to themselves all the time-self-hypnosis.'
'Great,' said Moller, rolling his eyes. 'So what's the idea with the search warrant?'
As you've said yourself, we have no evidence, no witnesses and we know you can never rely on the court buying all the psycho-stuff, but if we find the Marklin rifle, we're home and dry. We don't need any of the rest.'
