‘You have to get them to watch the tapes from the hour after the alarm was raised. I think it would probably be about fifteen or twenty minutes later.’
He didn’t answer.
‘Did you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’ll phone you again this evening. I promise.’
Then she hung up.
Adam stood stock still for a few seconds, staring at the phone. Even his hunger wasn’t bothering him any more; he didn’t feel anything.
XIV
Fayed Muffasa was four years older than his brother. He had shorter hair and was better dressed than Al Muffet, who was wearing jeans and a checked flannel hunting shirt, but they were otherwise remarkably similar. Al was about to get into the car to drive his youngest daughter to school when Fayed arrived and climbed out of the hired car with a broad smile.
He’s so like me, Al thought as he held out his hand. I always forget how alike we are.
‘Welcome,’ he said, in a serious voice. ‘You’re earlier than I’d expected.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Fayed said, as if it was he who had been inconvenienced. ‘I’ll just wait here until you get back. Hi, Louise!’ He bent down towards the passenger-side window and looked in.
‘My, you’ve grown!’ he shouted and signed to her to wind down the window. ‘It is Louise, isn’t it?’
She opened the door instead and got out.
‘Hi,’ she said, shyly.
‘How pretty you are!’ Fayed exclaimed and opened his arms. ‘And what a wonderful place you’ve got here. Great air!’ He took a deep breath, then grinned.
‘We’re happy here,’ Al said. ‘Just make…’
His keys rattled as he walked back towards the house. He unlocked the door and left it open.
‘Sit yourself down,’ he said and pointed towards the kitchen. ‘Just help yourself to something to eat if you’re hungry. There’s still coffee in the thermos.’
‘Great.’ Fayed smiled. ‘I’ve got some reading stuff with me. I’ll just find a comfy chair and relax. When will you be back?’
Al glanced at his watch and thought a moment.
‘Just under an hour. I’m going to drop Louise off and then I’ve got something to do quickly in town. About three quarters of an hour, I should think.’
‘See you later then,’ Fayed said and went in. The netting door slammed shut behind him.
Louise had already got back into the car. Al Muffet drove slowly down the gravel track and then swung out on to the highway.
‘He seems nice,’ Louise said.
‘Sure.’
The road was bad. No one had filled the holes after the long winter’s wear. It didn’t make any difference to Al Muffet. The uneven surface forced people to lower their speed when they passed. He went over a small hill just a few hundred metres from the house and then stopped.
‘Where are you going, Dad?’
‘To have a pee,’ he said with a fleeting smile, and got out.
He stepped over the ditch by the side of the road and headed back towards the thicket on the brow of the hill. Slowly he made his way through the undergrowth, making sure the whole time that he was in the shadow of the great maple trees by the boulder that balanced on the edge of a small cliff.
Fayed had come back out. He was standing on the path midway between the house and the road, looking around. He dithered before sauntering down to the gate. The flag on the postbox was down, as the postman hadn’t been yet. Fayed studied the postbox, which Louise had been allowed to paint the year before. It was bright red, with a picture of a blue galloping horse on both sides.
Fayed straightened up and started to walk back towards the house. He was more focused now and picked up speed. He stopped by the hire car, got in and sat there without starting the engine. He might have been talking on a mobile phone, but it was difficult to say from that distance.
‘Dad, are you coming?’
Al was loath to go back.
‘Coming,’ he mumbled and pushed his way back through the undergrowth. ‘I’m just coming.’
He brushed the leaves and twigs off before getting back into the car.
‘I’m going to be really late,’ Louise complained. ‘It’s the second time this month and it’s all your fault!’
‘Yes, yes,’ Al Muffet mumbled absently, and put the car in gear.
His brother might just have wanted to stretch his legs. Maybe he wasn’t hungry. It was only natural that he might want some fresh air after the long journey. Why then did he get back into the car? Why had he come in the first place, and why on earth had he, for the first time that Al could remember, been so friendly?
‘Watch where you’re going!’
He turned the wheel sharply to the right and just managed to avoid driving off the road. The car skidded in the opposite direction and he instinctively slammed on the brakes. The back wheel got stuck in the deep ditch. He released the brakes and the car shot forwards, and then came to a stop diagonally across the highway.
‘What are you doing?’ Louise screamed.
Just a slight paranoia attack, Al Muffet thought to himself. As he tried to start the car again, he said: ‘It’ll be fine, honey. Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine.’
XV
The American president had no idea what time or day it was any more.
She had tried to focus on the time.
They had taken her watch off and pulled a hood over her head as soon as they got in the car. She hadn’t resisted at all, as it had taken her by surprise. It was only when the engine started that she managed to pull herself together and estimated the journey to be just under half an hour. The men didn’t say a word in the course of that time, so she had at least been able to count without being distracted. They had tied her hands together in front, not behind her back. So, sitting on her own in the back seat, she could use her fingers to count. Every time she reached sixty, she grabbed hold of the next finger. When ten minutes had passed and she had no fingers left, she scratched herself on the back of her hand with a longish manicured nail. The pain helped her to remember. Three scratches. Thirty minutes. About half an hour.
Oslo was not big. A million inhabitants? More?
The weak red light on the wall by the locked door was the only thing that made it at all possible to see. She kept her eyes fixed on the red light and breathed deeply.
She must have been here for some time now. Had she fallen asleep? She had gone to the toilet in the corner of the room. It wasn’t easy to get her trousers down with tied hands, but she had managed. It was worse pulling them up. How many times had she been over to the cardboard box full of newspapers? She tried to remember, to calculate, to get an idea of time.
She must have fallen asleep.
Oslo wasn’t big.
Not that big. Not even a million inhabitants.
Sweden was the largest. Stockholm was biggest.
