Nemesis

he released a weary sigh. He pressed the handle, the water flushed and at that moment he froze. Wasn't that a car horn he had heard over the gushing water? He went into the hall and closed the toilet door to hear better. It was. A short, firm beep from the street. Gunnerud was on his way! Harry was already standing in the doorway when it struck him. Of course it had to strike him now, when it was too late. Flushing water. The Godfather. The gun. That's my favourite place.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck!'

Harry ran back into the toilet, grabbed the knob on top of the cistern and frantically began to loosen it. The rusty, red screw came into view. 'Faster,' he whispered. His heart accelerated as he twisted the knob and the damned rod went round and round with a groan but refused to come off. He heard a door slam down in the stairwell. Then it came off and he lifted the cistern lid. The harsh sound of porcelain on porcelain resounded in the semi-dark as the water continued to rise. Harry stuck his hand inside and his fingers brushed against the slippery coating of the tank. What the fuck? Nothing? He turned over the cistern lid, and there it was. Taped to the inside. He took a deep breath. Every notch, every indentation, every jagged edge of the key under the shiny tape was an old friend. It fitted Harry's front entrance, the cellar and his flat. The picture beside it was equally well known. The missing photograph in the mirror. Sis was smiling and Harry was trying to look tough. A summer tan and blissfully ignorant. However, Harry was not familiar with the white powder in the plastic bag attached by three broad pieces of black gaffer tape, but he was willing to bet a tidy sum it was diacetyl morphine, better known as heroin. A lot of heroin. Six years' unconditional, at least. Harry didn't touch anything, just replaced the lid and began to screw it back while listening for footsteps. As Beate had pointed out, the evidence would be worth diddly if it was discovered that Harry had been in the flat without a warrant. The knob was back in position and he ran for the door. Had no choice, opened the door and stepped onto the landing. Shuffling steps were on their way up. He closed the door quietly, peeped over the railings and saw a dark, thick mop of hair. In five seconds he would see Harry. Three long strides up to the fifth floor would be enough to keep Harry out of sight.

The man stopped abruptly when he spotted Harry sitting in front of him.

'Hi, Alf,' Harry said, looking at his watch. 'I've been waiting for you.'

The man stared at him with large eyes. A pale, freckled face was framed by greasy, shoulder-length hair with a Liam Gallagher cut around his ears. He did not remind Harry of a hard-bitten killer but a young lad frightened of more beatings.

'What do you want?' the man asked in a loud, high-pitched voice.

'I want you to come with me to Police HQ.'

The man reacted spontaneously. He swivelled, grabbed the railings and jumped down to the landing beneath. 'Hey!' Harry shouted, but the man had already disappeared from view. The heavy smack of feet as they hit the fifth or sixth step echoed up the stairwell.

'Gunnerud!'

Harry heard the downstairs door slam by way of response.

He reached inside his jacket pocket and realised he didn't have any cigarettes. Now it was the cavalry's turn.

***

Tom Waaler turned down the music, pulled the bleeping mobile phone from his pocket, pressed the green button and put the phone to his ear. At the other end he could hear breathing coming in quick, nervous pants, and traffic.

'Hello?' said the voice. 'Are you there?' It was the Knave. He sounded terrified.

'What's up, Knave?'

'Oh, God, there you are. All hell's broken loose. You've got to help me. Quick.'

'I don't have to do anything. Answer the question.'

'They've found us. There was a cop on the stairs waiting for me to come home.'

Waaler stopped at the zebra crossing before Ringveien. An old man, with strange, miniscule steps, was making his way across. He seemed to be taking for ever.

'What did he want?' Waaler asked.

'What do you think? To arrest me, I suppose.'

'And why haven't you been arrested?'

'I ran like fuck. Legged it straight away. But they're after me. Three police cars have driven by already. Do you hear? They'll get me unless-'

'Don't shout on the phone. Where were the other officers?'

'I didn't see any others. I just took off.'

'And you got away so easily? Are you sure the guy was a policeman?'

'Yes, it was him, wasn't it!'

'Who?'

'Harry Hole, I suppose. He was in the shop again recently.'

'You didn't tell me.'

'It's a locksmith's. There are police there all the time!'

The lights changed to green. Waaler hooted at the car in front. 'OK, let's talk about it later. Where are you now?'

'I'm in a telephone box in front of er…the Law Courts.' He laughed nervously. 'And I don't like it here.'

'Is there anything in your flat that shouldn't be there?'

'It's clean. All the equipment is in the chalet.'

'And what about you? Are you clean?'

'You know very well I'm off the habit. Are you coming or what? Fuck me, my whole body's shaking.'

'Just take it easy, Knave.' Waaler calculated how long it would take him. Tryvann. Police HQ. City centre. 'Think of it as a bank job. I'll give you a pill when I get there.'

'I've told you, I've given up.' He hesitated. 'I didn't know you carried pills around with you, Prince.'

'Always.'

Silence.

'What have you got?'

'Mother's Arms. Rohypnol. Have you got the Jericho I gave you?'

'Always.'

'Good. Now listen carefully. Our meeting place is the quay to the east of the container terminal. I'm quite a distance away so you'll have to give me forty minutes.'

'What are you talking about? You've got to come here, for fuck's sake! Now!'

Waaler listened to the breathing crackling against the membrane, without answering.

'If they get me, I'll take you with me. I hope you understand that, Prince. I'll sing if I can get off. I'm not fucking taking your rap if you-'

'That sounds like panic, Knave. And we don't need panic now. What guarantee do I have that you haven't already been arrested and this isn't a trap to set me up? Do you understand now? Come on your own and stand under a streetlight so I can see you clearly when I come.'

The Knave groaned: 'Shit! Shit! Shit!'

'Well?'

'Right. Fine. Bring the pills. Shit!'

'Container terminal in forty minutes. Under a light.'

'Don't be late.'

'Hang on, there's more. I'll park down the road from you. When I say so, hold the gun in the air so I can see it clearly.'

'What for? You paranoid, or what?'

'Let's just say the situation is a little unclear at the present moment and I'm not taking any chances. Do as I say.'

Waaler pressed the red button and looked at his watch. Flicked the volume control right round. Guitars. Beautiful pure noise. Beautiful pure fury.