‘Haven’t the foggiest.’
Again he raised the megaphone. ‘Johnny boy!’
‘Stop calling me that!’
‘Jan Egil!’
No answer.
‘Have you got any food up there? Anything to drink?’
‘We’ve got enough to be getting on with!’
A short pause. I wasn’t sure, but I had the feeling I’d heard a higher-pitched voice up there.
Then it came. ‘You can bring a bit with you!’
I sent Standal a contented nod. ‘There you go… He won’t shoot me until he’s had something to eat anyway. What have you got?’
‘We have some iron rations.’
‘Spam?’
‘No, some nutrition bars and that sort of thing. Energy-rich dried foods. And we’ve probably got some Coke back there, haven’t we, boys?’
‘If you mean Coca-Cola, then…’
Chuckles broke out around us.
‘Be careful, Varg!’ Grethe grabbed my arm.
I nodded dolefully. ‘Well, at least something will happen now. I could imagine a lot more tempting places to spend the night rather than up here.’
‘Oh yes?’ she whispered, with a sudden glint in her eye.
‘Mm,’ I answered, turning back to the sergeant.
Standal had found a plastic bag. In it he had put a few emergency rations and a big bottle of Coke. ‘I still don’t know if I like this, Veum. On your own head be it.’
A voice from the dark said: ‘Perhaps he ought to take a handgun with him?’
Standal fixed his eyes on me. ‘Have you had any weapon training?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t have brought anything with me whatever. You don’t solve conflicts like this with guns.’
‘I hope not.’
I unhitched the amplifier and passed it to Flekke. But before switching it off I raised the megaphone and sent a last message: ‘I’m on my way now, Jan Egil! Give me a shout when you can see me. It’s as black as hell up here!’
He didn’t answer. I shrugged and handed over the megaphone.
Grethe gave me a quick squeeze and whispered in my ear: ‘Take care
…’
Standal and the other officers nodded as I passed. Slowly I began to proceed along the narrow path. I could hardly see half a metre ahead of me, and I had no idea what awaited me. In my chest I had a kind of vacuum, a burial hole dug ready for someone to move in soon.
Once again I felt an unpleasant chill go down my spine. It was my brain sending warning signals up and down, forwards and backwards, without getting the answer it was waiting for.
20
Now I was alone in the black night. The only sounds I heard were the trickle of rain and the gurgle of streams.
I grabbed hold of branches hanging heavily over the path for support, put one foot in front of the other with care, moving one step at a time. Gradually my eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The contours of the countryside emerged, and a few stone’s throws beneath me I could distinguish the vast black surface of Lake Trodalsvatn.
I peered ahead. I still couldn’t see the uprooted tree.
There was a sudden movement in the undergrowth in front of me. I gave a start, but seconds later I heard the wings of a large bird flapping, driven from its repose by this unwelcome intrusion.
I breathed out and continued on my way. Wet branches slapped into my face, and I repeatedly had to swerve to the side or back to get past. Then I came to a clearing in the forest. Down to the left there was a little creek where the greyish white water foamed against the shore. Just ahead of me I could make out an uprooted tree, and against the slope there were more huge rocks, the remains of an earlier landslide. I allowed my eyes to wander upwards, but all I saw was a grey-black amorphous nothingness. There was no sign of movement, nothing that might reveal where they were hiding.
I stood hesitating for a second or two before taking the first step forward and entering the clearing. Consoling myself that if I couldn’t see him, he could hardly see me, either. Swiftly I crossed the open area, stumbled forward against the fallen tree and, keeping my shoulders down, found shelter there.
Then I poked up my head and shouted into the scree: ‘Jan Egil! Am I in the right place?!’
A second passed. Then came the answer. ‘Come on! But slowly! And with your hands in the air!’
‘All I’ve got in the bag is food — and a drink!’
‘Come on!’
I walked around the tree and peered in the direction the voice had come from. I still couldn’t see anything.
With my hands in the air, I started climbing. A few times I had to reach out with my arms to regain my balance on the wet rocks, and once I tripped and had to go right down on my knees and grope my way forward with my hands. He didn’t react.
I stared upwards with such intensity that it strained my eye muscles. Now I could distinguish a raised edge, two or three larger rocks forming a kind of redoubt at the top of the scree. And there, just above one of the rocks, I saw the first sign of life: a head, a shoulder and the faint glimmer of something that could have been a weapon.
‘Jan Egil?’ I said, my voice at normal volume now.
‘Move forward slowly!’ he replied. ‘I’ve got you in my sights.’
That gave me a shock. It wasn’t the first time by any means. During the nine years I had worked as a private investigator I had found myself on at least two occasions in this same situation: on the wrong side of a gun. And I had survived both experiences unscathed. However, on the other hand… at the back of my head I had the grim story Grethe had told me on the way into the long valley, the image of his foster parents, shot and murdered in their own bedroom. What if… if it really was him who had done it? How far would he go?
My mouth had gone dry once again, and a shudder went through me. ‘Don’t do anything stupid, Jan Egil. I’m here to help you.’
‘Do what I tell you!’
‘Of course.’ I couldn’t see his face yet, but he seemed tall for a seventeen-year-old. The girl who was supposed to be with him was nowhere to be seen.
‘Approach slowly until I say stop!’
Nature seemed to be holding its breath as I trudged up the last bit. It wasn’t raining quite as hard any more. For some reason that made me feel even colder, as if the temperature had plummeted in the wake of the great quantities of precipitation.
I fixed my eyes stiffly on the silhouette above. Gradually he emerged from the darkness, but he had his anorak hood pulled down over his forehead, and all I could see of his face, when I was finally close enough, was the broad nose, the taut mouth and the drops of rain that had settled in the down over his top lip. It was impossible to recognise tiny Johnny boy from this angle.
I could see the weapon. It was a big Mauser. No longer pointing at me, it was down by his side, as if to indicate that if I behaved myself, I wouldn’t come to any harm.
Now I could see her, too: a little cowering creature, also with her head covered by a weatherproof hood, a
