‘You’re not asking the questions now, Hole. Get into the room. Now.’
‘Sorry, Tom.’
Harry turned over the hand that was not joined to Sven’s. Two keys lay on his fingers. A Yale key and another one, smaller.
‘To the room and to the handcuffs,’ he said.
Then Harry opened his mouth wide, put the two keys on his tongue and closed his mouth. He winked at Oleg and swallowed.
Tom Waaler gaped in disbelief at Harry’s Adam’s apple rising and falling.
‘You’ll have to change the plan, Tom,’ Harry panted.
‘And what plan is that?’
Harry tucked his legs beneath him and, with his back against the wall, pushed himself up into an almost standing position. Waaler took his hand out of his jacket pocket. The gun was pointing at Harry. Harry grimaced and patted his chest twice before speaking.
‘Remember, I’ve followed you for some years now, Tom. Bit by bit I’ve learned a little about how you operate. How you killed Sverre Olsen in a room in his house and made it look like self-defence. And how you did the same that time by the harbour warehouses. So my guess is that your plan was to shoot both me and Sivertsen in the room, then you would make it look as if I had shot him and then myself. You would disappear from the scene of the crime and leave it to colleagues to find me. An anonymous tip-off that someone had heard shots coming from the student block perhaps?’
Tom Waaler shot an impatient glance up and down the corridor.
Harry went on: ‘And the explanation would be obvious, wouldn’t it? In the end it became too much for Harry Hole, the psychotic alcoholic policeman. Abandoned by his girlfriend, kicked out of the force, he kidnaps a prisoner. Self-destructive fury ending in disaster. A personal tragedy. Almost – but only almost – incomprehensible. Wasn’t that what you were thinking?’
Waaler gave a faint smile.
‘Not bad, but you forgot the bit about you, grief-stricken at being rejected by your lover, driving to your ex- lover’s house in the middle of the night, creeping into her house and kidnapping her son. Who is found dead alongside you.’
Harry concentrated on breathing normally.
‘Do you really think they would swallow that story? Moller? Head of Kripos? The media?’
‘Of course,’ Waaler said. ‘Don’t you read the newspapers? Don’t you watch TV? This story would circulate for a few days, a week at most. If nothing else happens in the meantime. Something really sensational.’
Harry didn’t answer.
Waaler smiled. ‘The only sensational thing here is that you thought I wouldn’t find you.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘About what?’
‘That I didn’t know you would find your way here.’
‘If so, had I been in your shoes, I would have done a runner. There’s no way out now, Hole.’
‘That’s right,’ Harry said, putting a hand in his jacket pocket.
Waaler raised his gun. Harry took out a wet packet of cigarettes.
‘I’m sitting in a trap. The question is: Who is the trap for?’
He took a cigarette out of the packet.
Waaler’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well,’ Harry said, tearing the cigarette in half and putting the filter between his lips, ‘national holidays are a pain, aren’t they? There are never enough people on duty to get things put away, so everything’s delayed. Such as, for example, putting up surveillance cameras in a student block. Or taking them down again.’
Harry noticed a small twitch in his colleague’s eyelid. He pointed with his thumb back over his shoulder. ‘Look up in the right-hand corner, Tom. Do you see it?’
Waaler’s eyes leapt over to where Harry was pointing and then back again.
‘As I said, I know what makes you tick, Tom. I knew that you would find us here sooner or later. I just had to make it difficult enough that you wouldn’t think you were being lured into a trap. On Sunday morning I had a long chat with a person you know. He’s been sitting in his bus since then waiting to record this scene. Wave to Otto Tangen.’
‘You’re bluffing, Harry. I know Tangen, and he would never have dared do anything like this.’
‘I said he could have all the sales rights for the recording. Just think about it, Tom. A recording of the big showdown, starring the alleged Courier Killer, the crazy detective and the corrupt police inspector. Television companies the world over will be queuing for it.’
Harry took a pace forwards.
‘Perhaps you’d better give me the gun now before you make things worse than they already are, Tom.’
‘Stay right there, Harry,’ Waaler whispered, and Harry saw that the gun barrel had swung round into Oleg’s back. He stopped. Tom Waaler had stopped blinking. His jaw muscles were working hard with the concentration. No-one moved. It was so quiet in the building that Harry thought he could hear the sound of the walls: a long-wave, almost inaudible vibration that the ear registered as tiny changes in the air pressure. While the walls sang, ten seconds passed. Ten unending seconds in which Waaler did not blink. Oystein had once told Harry how much data a human brain could handle in one second. He couldn’t remember the figure, but Oystein had explained that it meant a human could easily scan through the contents of the average town library in ten of these seconds.
Waaler finally blinked and Harry noticed a kind of calm descend over him. He didn’t know what it meant, only that it was probably bad news.
‘The interesting thing about murder cases,’ Waaler said, ‘is that you’re innocent until proven guilty. And for the time being I cannot see how any cameras here have filmed me doing anything illegal.’
He went over to Harry and Sven and jerked hard at the handcuffs so that Sven got to his feet. Waaler searched them by running his free hand over the outside of their jackets and trousers while keeping his eyes on Harry.
‘On the contrary, I’m just doing my job as a policeman. Arresting a policeman who kidnapped a prisoner from the custody block.’
‘You’ve just confessed in front of a camera,’ Harry said.
‘To you, yes,’ Waaler smiled. ‘As far as I remember these cameras only record image, not sound. This is a normal arrest. Start moving towards the lift.’
‘What about kidnapping a ten-year-old?’ Harry said. ‘Tangen has got pictures of you pointing a gun at a boy?’
‘Oh, him,’ Waaler said, shoving Harry so hard that he staggered forwards taking Sven with him.
‘He obviously got up in the middle of the night and went down to the police station without saying anything to his mother. He’s done it before, hasn’t he? Let’s just say that I met the boy outside when I was on my way out to find you and Sven. The boy obviously knew something was up. When I explained the situation he said he wanted to help. In fact, it was him who suggested that I use him as a hostage so that you wouldn’t do anything stupid and get hurt, Harry.’
‘A ten-year-old?’ Harry groaned. ‘Do you really think that anyone will believe that?’
‘We’ll see,’ Waaler said. ‘OK, everyone, we go out through here and stop in front of the lift. The first person to try anything gets the first bullet.’
Waaler went over to the lift and pressed the button. A rumbling sound came from the depths of the shaft.
‘Strange how quiet it is in a student block during the holidays, isn’t it?’
He gave Sven a smile.
‘Like a haunted house.’
‘Give up, Tom.’
Harry had to concentrate to articulate the words, his mouth seemed to be full of sand.
‘It’s too late. You must know that no-one will believe you.’
‘You’re beginning to repeat yourself, my dear colleague,’ Waaler said casting a glance at the slanting needle as it rotated, slowly like a compass, behind the glass cover.
