'Shouldn't we take him in for questioning, give him the good chair, serve espresso and run the tape?'
'No. We don't need a load of lies on tape when we can't use what we do know to prove he's a liar. What we need is an ally. Someone who can expose him on our behalf.'
'And that is?'
'Vigdis Albu.'
'Aha. And how…?'
'If Arne Albu has been unfaithful, the chances are that Vigdis will want to dig deeper into the matter. And the chances are that she's sitting on the information we need. And we know a couple of things which could help her to find out even more.'
Halvorsen slanted the mirror so that he wouldn't be dazzled by the headlamps of the lorry right up their boot. 'Are you sure this is a smart idea, Harry?'
'No. Do you know what a palindrome is?'
'No idea.'
'Word or words that can be read forwards and backwards. Look at the lorry in your mirror. AMOROMA. It's the same word whichever way you read it.'
Halvorsen was about to say something, but thought better of it and just shook his head in despair.
'Drive me to Schrшder's,' Harry said.
The air was stiff with sweat, cigarette smoke, rain-drenched clothing and orders for beer shouted from the tables.
Beate Lшnn sat at the table where Aune had been sitting. She was as difficult to spot as a zebra in a cowshed.
'Have you been waiting long?' Harry asked.
'Not long at all,' she lied.
In front of her was a large beer, untouched and already flat. She followed his gaze and dutifully raised the glass.
'There's no obligation to drink alcohol here,' Harry said, making eye contact with Maja. 'It just seems like it.'
'In fact, it's not bad,' Beate took a tiny sip. 'My father said he didn't trust people who didn't drink beer.'
The coffee pot and cup arrived in front of Harry. Beate blushed to the roots of her hair.
'I used to drink beer,' Harry said. 'I had to stop.'
Beate studied the tablecloth.
'It's the only vice I've got rid of,' Harry said. 'I smoke, lie and hold grudges.' He lifted his cup in toast. 'What do you suffer from, Lшnn? Apart from being a video junkie and remembering the face of everyone you've ever seen?'
'There's not a lot more.' She raised her glass. 'Apart from the Setesdal Twitch.'
'Is it serious?'
'Fairly. Actually, it's called Huntingdon's Disease. It's hereditary and was normal for Setesdal.'
'Why there of all places?'
'It's a…narrow dale surrounded by high fells. And a long way from anywhere.'
'I see.'
'Both my mother and father come from Setesdal and at first my mother didn't want to marry him because she thought he had an aunt with the Setesdal Twitch. My auntie would suddenly lash out with her arms, so people used to keep their distance.'
'And now you've got it?'
Beate smiled. 'My father used to tease my mother about it when I was small. Because when Dad and I played knuckles, I was so fast and hit him so hard that he thought it had to be the Setesdal Twitch. I just found it so funny I wished…I had the Twitch, but one day my mother told me you can die from Huntingdon's Disease.' She sat fidgeting with her glass.
'And the same summer I learned what death meant.'
Harry nodded to an old sailor on the neighbouring table, who didn't return the greeting. He cleared his throat: 'What about grudges? Do you suffer from them, too?'
She looked up at him. 'What do you mean?'
Harry shrugged. 'Look around you. Humanity can't survive without it. Revenge and retribution. That's the driving force for the midget who was bullied at school and later became a multi-millionaire, and the bank robber who thinks he has been short-changed by society. And look at us. Society's burning revenge disguised as cold, rational retribution-that's our profession, isn't it.'
'That's the way it has to be,' she said, avoiding his gaze. 'Society wouldn't work without punishment.'
'Yes, of course, but there's more to it than that, isn't there. Catharsis. Revenge cleanses. Aristotle wrote that the human soul is purged by the fear and compassion that tragedy evokes. It's a frightening thought that we fulfil the soul's innermost desire through the tragedy of revenge, isn't it.'
'I haven't read a lot of philosophy.' She raised her glass and took a long swig.
Harry bent his head. 'I haven't, either. I'm just trying to impress you. Down to brass tacks?'
'First some bad news,' she said. 'The reconstruction of the face behind the mask failed. Just a nose and the outline of a head.'
'And the good news?'
'The woman who was used as a hostage in the Grшnlandsleiret hold-up reckons she would recognise the robber's voice. She said it was unusually high, she'd almost thought it was a woman's.'
'Mm. Anything else?'
'Yes, I've been talking to the staff at Focus and doing some checking. Trond Grette arrived at half past two and left at around four.'
'How can you be so sure of that?'
'Because he paid for the squash court with a card when he arrived. The payment was registered at 14.34. And do you remember the stolen squash racquet? Naturally he told the staff. The person who was working the Friday shift noted down the time Grette was there. He left the centre at 16.02.
'And that was the good news?'
'No, I'm coming to it now. Do you remember the overalls Grette saw going past the fitness room?'
'With POLITI on the back?'
'I've been watching the video. It looks like there is Velcro on the front and back of the Expeditor's boiler suit.'
'Meaning?'
'If the Expeditor is the person Grette saw, he could have put the sign on the boiler suit with Velcro when he was out of range of the cameras.'
'Mm.' Harry slurped out loud.
'It might explain why no one reported seeing someone in a plain black boiler suit in the area. There were black police uniforms everywhere right after the hold-up.'
'What did they say at Focus?'
'That's the interesting part. The woman on duty in fact remembers a man in a boiler suit she took for a policeman. He raced past so she assumed he had booked a squash court or something like that.'
'So they didn't have a name?'
'No.'
'That's not exactly sexy…'
'No, but the best is to come. The reason she remembered the guy was that she thought he had to be in a special unit, or something similar, because the rest of his outfit was so Dirty Harry. He…' She paused and gave him a horrified look. 'I didn't mean to…'
'That's fine,' Harry said. 'Go on.'
Beate moved her glass, and Harry thought he detected a tiny, triumphant smile around her little mouth.
