The Kosovars and Albanians are ordered and well mobilised in Oslo. They do not constitute a large population, and many of them know each other. They look out for each other, and one task in doing so is watching out for the Black so that the Black can watch out for Enver.
And now he has a job to do. The Black has received the call from Enver, and has set about doing what Burim and Gjon failed to do. He is to recover the boy, for the simple reason that he is instructed to, and that is what he does — follow instructions. He has gone to the black market and bought an aged but functional Colt 1911A1 .45- calibre pistol and an old Winchester repeater with a wooden stock. The stock of the rifle has a swastika that has been etched into the wood by its former owner. The Black has purchased it, not for political leanings, but because of the reduced price and the likelihood that the owner would want to forget the transaction.
The rifle uses an iron sight, and holds five rounds. The Black has tested it in the hills outside the city, and found it reliable and accurate.
He has been told to gather the weapons and come alone to the summer house. Enver has given him the address. He will find his own way.
The Black does not know that the young hunters have taken the boy. What he does know, however, is what the boy looks like and what his real name is.
His special-operations training has taught him to always fuel a car or truck just before reaching a mission’s destination, because it prepares the vehicle for the return trip or the rushed escape from it. So as he pulls into the Esso station in Kongsvinger, it surprises him to see the boy through the window. He is holding a piece of moose jerky amidst five young Norwegian men.
The Black sidles up to the pump and drives slowly past the mini-market where the boy is standing with the jerky. He opens the glove compartment and removes a bright-red plastic folder. Inside the folder is a series of photos of the boy. His passport photo. A few surveillance photos. There are photos of him with and without his mother. With longer and shorter hair. With an ice-cream cone.
The Black holds up the photos and compares them to the boy. The boy sees the man in the small car looking at him and stares back. There is no recognition. The two have never met.
The Black realises immediately that their chance encounter changes the calculus. It rearranges the pieces on the chessboard. The assault on the summer house was to attain a single goal: to find the boy. If the boy has been found, there is no need for any of it.
Considering this, his face remains unchanged.
The Black takes a mobile phone from his jacket pocket and calls Enver. He knows the lines can be traced, which is why he only uses pay-as-you-go cards. He knows his own phone can give away his location and can even be used as a microphone by the police, who have the ability to remotely activate the phone without him knowing it — which is why he discards the cards each time he makes a call to Enver.
The phone rings and is answered.
‘What is it?’ says Enver.
‘I’ve found the boy.’
There is silence for a moment.
‘Do you have him?’
‘No. But I will soon.’
‘What about the old man?’
‘I don’t see an old man.’
‘Who is the boy with? The police?’
‘No. He’s with local vacationers. Hunters. Maybe fishermen.’
‘Take the boy.’
‘Should I bring him to the house?’
Enver sighs slightly into the phone. If only this call had come last night, the answer would have been no. Enver, Gjon, and Burim could have returned to their vehicles and met the Black at a random location, switched cars, and Enver could have made for the Swedish border on an unguarded side-road where Norwegian black marketeers traffic alcohol and cigarettes.
But the call did not take place last night. It is taking place now.
‘Yes. Matters have already been set in motion. Bring him here after you finish your business. And bring the weapons. We won’t stay long.’
There are five of them, plus the boy. All are in their late twenties, early thirties. He watches them leave the mini-market with groceries. Each carries a bag, and the boy walks slightly behind them. He is an odd one, this son of Enver’s. It was known that he lived with his mother and that the mother was odd — a fast-talking liar who, it was said, turned some tricks to pay the rent. Whatever she did, though, she did for her son. It is unclear why Enver upset the routine and decided to take the boy from Norway. But the reasons people do what they do is no longer a question that haunts the Black.
So here he is, silently following a group of men about whom he has no information. Why would the boy be here without the old man? He can think of no reason. The old man must be inside, buying something, or urinating. It is what old men do. He decides to wait for the pensioner to emerge.
But he does not emerge. Instead, all five men and the boy get into the pick-up truck and start it up. Then pull off.
The Black follows the truck out of the Esso station and on to a subsidiary road. It is paved and quiet. There are a few cars on the road, but not enough to protect them. The odds are in his favour.
The forest is thinner here on the outskirts of town. Brown and yellow grasses edge the road, and poke through old potholes and cracks. The weather is fine. The surface of the road is dry.
The Black puts the small car into third, and overtakes the truck. The driver with the lined face looks at him as the two cars ride parallel for just a moment. Then the moment passes. When the Fiat is a full five car-lengths in front of the pick-up, the Black slams on the breaks and spins out the back of the car with the hand brake.
The pick-up truck slams on its breaks and screeches to a halt just before hitting the Fiat. The Black opens his door quickly and is already out of the car. The driver’s side is away from the pick-up. He stands up — looking over the silver, rusted roof of the old Italian car. Then, in a smooth gesture so as not to waste time, he swings the Winchester into play, chambers a round by flicking the lever down forty-five degrees, and takes aim at the driver.
The boy is not in the cabin. He is sitting in the flatbed of the truck with three men. The Black watched them as he drove behind.
This is better and makes the job easier.
The Black fires the rifle into the window of the truck, shooting the driver in the face. Blood splatters across the windscreen. The other man, obviously unaccustomed to war and its necessary responses, is frozen in place like the animals he undoubtedly hunts. The Black takes aim, flicks the Winchester’s lever again, and kills him.
There is shouting at the back of the truck now. He hears a commotion, and then footsteps on the steel slats. He crouches to the ground and looks between the wheels of both vehicles to see whether they have come down from the truck and are trying to run. He knows from experience that if they run directly away from the truck he will be unable to see them, and will need to move off to the left or right in order to gain the needed line of sight.
He sees no feet, but believes he soon will.
When he stands again to look over the roof of the car to the truck, there is a slightly chubby man with dirty blond hair holding a rifle above the truck’s cabin. His arms are shaking. Before the Black can reacquire a target, the man shoots.
The bullet passes the Black’s head closely enough for him to hear it, and it leaves a terrible buzz and ringing in his ear.
He then reacquires his target and shoots the man. His aim is slightly off, as his shot seems to have hit the man lower in the face than he intended. But the target drops from view, and this is all that concerns him for the moment.
He crouches down again, and this time does see their feet.
The boy’s smaller feet are to the right and running with one of the men. The other man is making for the woods to the left. There is a chance he might make it, too, because the Black has to make a choice. If he steps to his right to sight the man with the boy, he will obscure his view of the other who is making for the woods. If, on the other hand, he steps left, he will be able to shoot the one making for the woods, but will then have to chase his
