Death In Oslo

millimetres’ leverage. Then she stood with her back to the stairwell, grabbed hold of the crowbar with both hands and pulled.

The woodwork split. But nothing happened.

‘And again,’ Mary wheezed.

The woodwork collapsed, but the door remained locked.

‘Maybe the other way,’ Mary said and did the same thing from the other side.

The lock broke. The door buckled. It was hanging at an angle and Mary forced the crowbar into the gap once more. The gap was wider now, so she got a firmer hold.

‘And puuull!’ she screamed. She was surprised to see an opening of about ten to fifteen centimetres appear.

She dropped the crowbar. The noise when it hit the floor made her ears ring. She took a firm hold of the door and pulled to make the opening bigger.

‘There now, there now,’ she said to the person sitting on the floor just inside the door, looking at her. ‘I know what it’s like. Now we’ll-’

‘Help,’ rasped a woman’s voice.

A Russian whore, Mary thought and shook her head.

‘I’ll help you, I will,’ she said and bent down to put her arm round the battered woman’s waist. ‘Men can’t just get their way, shouldn’t be allowed. This one bad, eh? And you’re all tied up and everything. Hang on…’

She found a sheath knife in amongst all the tools and cut through the plastic bindings that were tied round the woman’s wrists. With great effort, she managed to get her to her feet. The smell of piss and shit was overwhelming. She glanced over at the back of the door. The latch was not there.

‘Crafty buggers, men, eh?’ she mumbled in a comforting voice and stroked the woman on her bloody cheek. ‘Let’s get you a nice hot bath, eh, love? Come on now.’

The woman tried to walk, but her legs wouldn’t hold her.

‘You smell something terrible, girl. Come along with Mary, now.’

‘Help,’ whispered the woman. ‘Help me.’

‘There, there. That’s what I’m doing. You probably don’t understand what I’m saying. But I’ve been there too, you know, I’ve been where you are now and…’

Mary talked like this all the way to the stairs, where she had to half carry the woman up the five steps to the lift. When it came, Mary smiled and steered her in.

‘Hang on to this,’ she said, pointing to the steel rail. ‘We’ll be there in a jiffy now, love. What d’you look like, eh!’

It was only now, in the bright light from the neon tube on the ceiling, that Mary could take a proper look at the woman’s face. She had a great bump on one of her temples, bruising over half her face and one of her eyes was closed. The blood had dried and caked on her neck.

‘Nice clothes you got there, though,’ Mary said, with a hint of suspicion as she touched the red jacket. ‘That’s not from the Salvation Army, eh?’

The lift doors opened.

‘Now you be a good girl and put your arm round Auntie Mary.’

The woman stood without moving, with her mouth open. Her eyes showed no sign of life, and Mary held her gnarled hand up in front of her face and clicked her fingers.

‘Hello, you in there? Come on.’

With her left arm round the woman’s waist and her right hand under her arm, she managed to pull the woman over to the front door. She didn’t dare let go of her to look for the keys, so she rang the doorbell with her elbow instead.

Several seconds passed.

‘Help,’ groaned the woman.

‘There, there,’ Mary muttered impatiently and rang the doorbell again.

‘Mary,’ Johanne said gladly as she opened the door. ‘You were down there so long that-’

‘I found a whore in the cellar,’ Mary replied briskly. ‘Think she’s Russian or something like that, from round there, but she needs help all the same. Poor thing. Some jerk’s taken liberties with her.’

Johanne stood stock still.

‘Move out the way, then!’

‘Hanne,’ Johanne said quietly, without taking her eyes from the woman. ‘I think you should come here.’

‘Hanne’s not the sort to turn away a battered whore,’ Mary fumed. ‘Now get out the way. Now!’

‘Hanne,’ Johanne called again, louder this time. ‘Come here!’

The wheelchair appeared at the end of the hall, silhouetted against the glass wall where the trees cast long evening shadows into the flat.

Slowly she rolled towards them, the rubber wheels squeaking ever so slightly on the wooden floor.

‘This one needs a bath,’ Mary pleaded. ‘And something to eat, maybe. Be nice, Hanne, please. You’re a kind- hearted soul.’

Hanne Wilhelmsen rolled closer.

‘Madam President,’ she said and bowed her head before looking up again and holding her breath for a moment. ‘Come in, please. Let’s see what we can do to help you.’

XXV

‘So, let me just sum up,’ Adam said. ‘So there’s no misunderstandings.’He ran his fingers through his hair, then turned the chair round before sitting down so his stomach was against the back of it. He was balancing a red felt pen between his index finger and his thumb.

‘You were rung by a man you’ve never met before.’

Gerhard Skroder nodded.

‘And you don’t know where he’s from or what he’s called.’

Gerhard shook his head.

‘Nor what he looks like, obviously.’

The arrestee scratched his neck and looked at the table, embarrassed.

‘It wasn’t exactly a video phone.’

‘So.’ Adam spoke with exaggerated slowness and put his hands over his face. ‘You’re sitting here saying that you took a job from a man you have only spoken to on the phone and you don’t even know his name. Someone you’ve never met.’

‘It’s not that unusual, that.’

Ove Ronbeck, his lawyer, twitched his hand in warning.

‘I mean, it’s not so strange…’

‘Yes, I think it is. What did he sound like?’

‘Sound like?’

Gerhard wriggled back on his chair like a teenager who’d been caught taking liberties with a reluctant girl.

‘What language did he speak?’ Adam asked.

‘He was Norwegian, I think.’

‘I see,’ Adam said, and let out a long breath. ‘So he spoke Norwegian?’

‘No.’

‘No? So why did you come to the conclusion that he was Norwegian?’

Ronbeck raised his hand and opened his mouth, but immediately sat back in his chair again when Adam turned to face him.

‘You have a right to be here,’ he said. ‘But don’t interrupt. I don’t need to remind you how serious this case is for your client. And for once I’m not actually that interested in Gerhard Skroder. I just want to know as much as possible about the anonymous man who gave you the job.’

He screamed this at Gerhard, who pulled back even more. His chair was right up against the wall now, so there