He accelerated and took the next crossing on amber. Fortunately there were no cars on the streets. He snatched a glance at his watch.
Twelve minutes left. It was eight minutes since he had been standing in the central yard in Sannergata, mobile in hand, and dialling the number he was forced to dial. Eight minutes since the voice had whispered in his ear:
‘At last.’
Harry said all he wanted to, but couldn’t stop himself adding: ‘If you lay a hand on him, I’ll kill you.’
‘Well, well. Where are you and Sivertsen?’
‘No idea,’ Harry had said staring at the rotary dryer. ‘What do you want?’
‘I just want to meet you. Find out why you want to break the deal we made. Find out if you’re unhappy about something that we can put right. It’s not too late, Harry. I’m willing to stick my neck right out to get you in the team.’
‘OK,’ Harry said. ‘Let’s meet. I’ll come to you.’
Tom Waaler gave a low laugh.
‘I want to meet Sven Sivertsen as well. And I think it’s a better idea if I come to you. So give me the address. Now.’
Harry hesitated.
‘Have you heard what it sounds like when you cut someone’s throat, Harry? First of all there’s the squeak as the steel cuts into the skin and cartilage, then a wheezing sound like the saliva sucker at the dentist’s. It comes from the severed trachea. Or is it the oesophagus? I can never tell the difference.’
‘Student block. Room 406.’
‘Christ. The crime scene? I should’ve thought of that.’
‘You should’ve.’
‘OK, but if you’re thinking of calling anyone or setting up a trap, forget it, Harry. I’m bringing the boy with me.’
‘No! Don’t… Tom… please.’
‘Please? Did you say “please”?’
Harry didn’t answer.
‘I picked you up from the gutter and gave you a chance. And you stabbed me in the back, please. It’s not my fault I have to do what I’m doing. It’s yours. Remember that, Harry.’
‘Listen -’
‘In twenty minutes. Leave the door open and sit on the floor where I can see you with your hands over your heads.’
‘Tom!’
Waaler had rung off.
Harry tore at the wheel and felt the tyres lose their grip. They floated on the water, sideways on. For a moment it was as if he and the car were hovering in a dream where all the laws of physics were suspended. It only lasted for the one second, but it was enough for Harry to have the liberating sensation that everything was over, that it was too late to do anything. Then the tyres regained their grip and he was back.
The car swerved outside the student building and pulled up in front of the exit door. Harry switched off the ignition. Nine minutes left. He got out and walked round the car. He opened the boot and threw away half-empty bottles of windscreen wash and filthy rags. Grabbed a roll of black insulation tape. As he went up the stairs he pulled the gun out from the waistband of his trousers and unscrewed the silencer. He hadn’t checked the weapon, but assumed that a Czech gun would stand the occasional 15-metre fall from a roof terrace. He stopped outside the lift door on the fourth floor. The handle was as he remembered: metal with a round solid wooden cap over the end. Just large enough to hide a gun minus silencer, if one was taped to the inside. He loaded the weapon and secured it with two strips of tape. If things went as planned from the beginning, he would need it. The hinges creaked as he opened the lid to the disposal chute beside the lift, but the silencer fell into the dark without a sound. Four minutes left.
He unlocked the door to room 406.
There was a clank of iron against the radiator.
‘Good news?’
Sven had an almost imploring tone. His breath smelled bad as Harry unlocked the handcuffs.
‘No,’ Harry answered.
‘No?’
‘He’s coming with Oleg.’
Harry and Sven sat on the floor in the corridor, waiting.
‘He’s late,’ Sven said.
‘Yes.’
Silence.
‘Iggy Pop songs beginning with C,’ Sven said. ‘You start.’
‘Pack it in.’
‘“China Girl”.’
‘Not now.’
‘It helps. “Candy”.’
‘“Cry For Love”.’
‘“China Girl”.’
‘You’ve already said that one, Sivertsen.’
‘There are two versions.’
‘“Cold Metal”.’
‘Are you scared, Harry?’
‘Scared to death.’
‘Me too.’
‘Good. That increases our chances of survival.’
‘By how much? Ten per cent? Twenty…’
‘Shh.’
‘Is that the lift…?’ Sivertsen whispered.
‘It’s on its way up. Take slow, deep breaths.’
They heard the lift come to a halt with a low groan. Two seconds passed. Then the rattle of the grille door. A long drawn-out creak told Harry that Waaler was opening the lift door with caution. Low mumbling. The sound of the disposal chute lid being opened. Sven cast Harry a questioning glance.
‘Raise your hands so that he can see them,’ Harry whispered.
The handcuffs rattled as they raised their hands in one synchronised movement. Then the glass front door leading into the corridor opened.
Oleg was wearing slippers and a tracksuit jacket over his pyjamas, and images flashed through Harry’s brain. The corridor. Night clothes. The sound of shuffling slippers. Mummy. The hospital.
Tom Waaler was walking right behind Oleg. He had his hands in the pockets of his short jacket, but Harry could see the barrel of the gun pressing against the black leather.
‘Stop,’ Waaler said when there were five metres between them and Harry and Sven.
Oleg stared at Harry with black-rimmed, red eyes. Harry gave him what he hoped was a firm, reassuring look.
‘Why are you cuffed together, boys? Grown inseparable already?’
Waaler’s voice resounded sharply in the corridor and Harry realised that he had gone through the list they had put together before the whole operation started and found out what Harry already knew. There was no-one at home on the fourth floor.
‘We’ve come to the conclusion that we’re both sitting in the same boat,’ Harry said.
‘And why aren’t you sitting inside the room as I told you?’
Waaler made sure that Oleg was standing between them.
‘Why do you want us to sit inside?’ Harry asked.
