'You know that I had to,' Sejer said.
'And I know how you work, too,' Friis said. 'You're on his side. Buttering him up. Listening sympathetically, slapping him on the shoulder. Complimenting him. You're the only one who can get him out of that room and to some other place, irrespective of all his rights. They're the first thing you take away from him.'
'I could shout and beat him up,' Sejer said simply. 'Would you have preferred that?'
Friis didn't answer. He chewed carefully for a long time. And then he said sharply: 'You've planted an Indian woman in his consciousness. Like a scientist once planted a polar bear. An experiment, pure and simple.'
'Really?' Sejer said.
'Play that game with me. If you know it.'
'I think I do.'
'Think about anything at all for a few seconds. Create an image of anything you like. Everything is allowed except this: that the image must not contain a polar bear. Apart from that, everything is allowed. But don't think about a polar bear. Do you get my drift?'
'Better than you think,' Sejer said.
'So, start thinking.'
Sejer thought, but he went on eating. An image came to him quickly. He remained sitting watching it.
'Well?' Friis said.
'I see a tropical beach,' Sejer said. 'With azure blue water and a single palm tree. And white foaming waves.'
'And what comes padding along the beach?' Friis teased.
'The polar bear,' Sejer admitted.
'Exactly. You escaped as far from the north of Norway as you could go, but that blasted bear followed you all the way to the tropics. Because I planted it there. Just as you planted Poona Bai in Goran's mind.'
'If you disapprove of my methods, you'll just have to accompany your clients to the interrogations.'
'I've too many of them,' Friis said.
'The video of the interrogation will be ready soon,' Sejer said. 'Then you'll have to change tack.'
He went to his office and found Skarre there. Without a word Skarre handed him an envelope with a small newspaper cutting. Sejer read it.
''Man (29) found stabbed in Oslo street. He died later from his injuries.' In your letterbox? No postmark?'
'That's right.'
Sejer looked at him searchingly. 'Does it worry you?'
Skarre messed up his curls nervously. 'My tyres were slashed with a knife. We're talking about a knife here, too. Whoever it was has come right to my front door. Followed me. Wants something from me. I don't understand it.'
'How about Linda Carling? Have you considered her?'
'I have, as a matter of fact, but this isn't a particularly feminine thing to do. Neither is slashing tyres.'
'Perhaps she's not very feminine.'
'I'm not quite sure what she is. I called her mother recently. She is very concerned about her. Says she's changed completely. Stopped going to college. Dresses differently and has become really withdrawn. Plus she's knocking back painkillers. One bottle after another. Then she said something really strange. That her voice had changed.'
'What?'
'You remember her? The high-pitched voice, that distinctive chirping which teenage girls have?'
'Well?'
'It's gone. Her voice is deeper.'
Sejer looked again at the cutting.
'Would you do me a favour and watch yourself?'
Skarre sighed. 'She's sixteen years old. But, OK, I'll keep looking over my shoulder. However, I keep thinking about those pills.'
'She's drugging herself,' Sejer said.
'Or she's in pain,' Skarre said. 'From being attacked, perhaps.'
Linda was sewing something on a white blouse. She sat very still beneath the lamp, sewing with a dedication and a meticulousness her mother had never seen in her. Didn't know where she'd got the blouse from either.
'Is it new? Where did you get the money?'
'I bought it from Fretex, 45 kroner.'
'It's not like you to wear a white blouse.'
Linda tilted her head. 'It's for a special occasion.'
Her mother liked the reply. She supposed it meant that there was a boy involved, which to some extent was true.
'Why are you swapping the buttons?'
'Gold buttons look silly,' Linda said. 'The tortoiseshell ones are better.'
'Did you hear the news today?'
'No.'
'They're going to put Goran on trial. Even though he withdrew his confession.'
'I see,' Linda said.
'It'll come to court in three months. I can't believe he did it.'
'I can,' Linda said. 'I wasn't sure at first, but now I am.'
She kept on sewing. Her mother saw that her daughter was beautiful. Older. More quiet. Nevertheless she felt anxious about something.
'You never see Karen any more?'
'No.'
'It's a shame. She's a nice girl.'
'True,' Linda said. 'But dreadfully ignorant.'
Her mother was taken aback. 'Ignorant about what?'
Linda put down the blouse. 'She's just a kid.' Then she went on sewing. Looped the thread around the button and tied a knot.
'It's strange about Goran,' her mother said pensively. 'Can they convict him solely on circumstantial evidence? The defence says there's not one shred of conclusive evidence.' She was quoting from the newspaper.
'One shred of circumstantial evidence wouldn't mean much,' Linda conceded. 'But if there are enough of them that changes the character of the case.'
'How so?' She looked at her daughter in amazement.
'Preponderance of evidence.'
'Where on earth did you learn words like that?'
'The newspapers,' Linda said. 'He drove a car like the one I saw. He was dressed like the man I saw. He can't find the clothes he was wearing or his shoes. He can't account for where he was, he's told several lies to give himself an alibi, all of which have been repudiated. His face was scratched the day after the murder. He kept something, which definitely could have been the murder weapon in his car. Traces of magnesium were found on the victim that probably came from Adonis, and he came straight from being there with his girlfriend right after she'd broken up with him. And last, but not least: during the interrogation he confessed to having murdered her. What more do you need?'
Her mother shook her head in confusion. 'Uo, good God. I wouldn't know.' She looked once more at the white blouse. 'Wher '1 you be wearing it?'
'I'm meeting someone.'
'Now, tonight?'
'Sooner or later.'
'That's cryptic.' Once again her mother felt uneasy. 'You're strange these days. Well, I'm sorry, but I don't get you. Is everything all right?'
'I'm very happy,' she said precociously.
'But what about college and everything? What about that?'
