pessimism. She glanced at the clock. “We still have an hour or two before we may have to admit defeat.”
They sat there for quite a while without saying anything and with a faraway, unfocused expression in their eyes.
Their glasses were empty by the time the food came. Spaghetti. It looked appetising, and was piping hot.
“It’s not your fault if it hasn’t worked out,” she said as she struggled with the long white strands covered in tomato sauce. She’d tucked her napkin into her collar with an apologetic gesture to protect her sweater from the inevitable accidents.
“You know it isn’t,” she added emphatically, scanning his face. “If it goes wrong, we’ve all failed. We were all agreed on trying for custody, no one can blame you.”
“Blame me?”
He banged his spoon on the table so that the sauce spattered everywhere.
“Blame me? Of course they’ll blame me! It’s not you or Kaldbakken or the commissioner or anyone else who was wittering on for hours in there! It was me! I was the one who messed it up. They have every right to blame me.”
He suddenly felt full and pushed the half-eaten food away, almost in distaste, as if the mussels might be concealing an unpalatable release order.
“I don’t think I’ve ever performed so badly in court, believe me, Hanne.”
He took a deep breath and beckoned to the sleek young man for a bottle of mineral water.
“I’d probably have done a better job if I’d had a different defence counsel. Bloch-Hansen makes me nervous. His ultra-correct, factual style throws me off balance. Maybe I’d prepared myself for a bloody and open battle. When my adversary challenges me to an elegant fencing duel instead, I just stand there like a sack of potatoes.”
He rubbed his face vigorously, grinned, and shook his head.
“Promise me you won’t say nasty things about my performance,” he begged.
“I can assure you of that on my word of honour,” Hanne promised, raising her right hand to confirm it. “But you really weren’t
“By the way,” she went on, changing the subject, “why did you tell that
“Do you remember what you said when I was so shocked at the way you treated Lavik in the last interview before we arrested him?”
She frowned in concentration.
“Not really.”
“You said that frightened people make mistakes. That was why you wanted to frighten Lavik. Now it’s my turn to play the bogeyman. It may be a shot in the dark, but on the other hand it may hit someone out there who’s scared. Very, very scared.”
The bill arrived within seconds of Hakon’s discreet signal. They both reached for it, but Hakon was the quicker.
“Out of the question,” Hanne protested. “I’ll pay-or at any rate let me pay half.”
Hakon clutched the bill to his chest with a pleading expression.
“Let me feel like a man just once today,” he begged.
It wasn’t much to ask. He paid, and rounded it up with a three-kroner tip. The oily-haired waiter showed them out into the darkness with a smile, and hoped to see them again soon. His sincerity wasn’t very convincing.
Weariness enveloped his brain like a tight black cowl, and his eyelids drooped whenever he stopped speaking for a few moments. He took out a small bottle of eyedrops from his jacket pocket, bent his head back, pushed his glasses to the end of his nose, and poured the drops liberally into his eyes. He’d soon used up the whole bottle; it had been new that morning.
Hakon Sand rotated his head in an effort to loosen up his neck muscles, which felt as taut as harp strings. Twisting a bit too far, he felt a sudden spasm of cramp on the left-hand side which made him flinch.
“Aaaah!” he yelled, massaging the painful area vigorously.
Hanne looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. Five to midnight. It was impossible to know whether it was a good or bad sign that the decision was taking so long. The magistrate would have to be especially punctilious if he were going to send a lawyer to jail. On the other hand he would hardly be less careful with a decision to release. It was probably obvious that the judgement would go to appeal, whichever it was.
She gave a yawn so enormous that her slim hand couldn’t cover her entire mouth, and as she leant back Hakon noticed that she had no amalgam in her molars.
“What do you think of those white fillings?” he asked, and she stared at him in astonishment at the incongruity of the question.
“White fillings? What do you mean?”
“I can see that you haven’t got any amalgam in your teeth. I’ve been thinking of getting rid of mine, since I read an article about how much rubbish there is in the ‘silver’ ones, mercury and the like. I’ve read that people have even been made ill by them. But my dentist advises me against the new composites and says that amalgam is much stronger.”
She bent towards him with her mouth wide open and he could see quite clearly that it was all perfectly white.
“No cavities,” she said with a smile and a touch of pride. “Of course, I’m a bit too old to belong to the ‘no cavities’ generation, but we had well-water where I grew up. Lots of natural fluoride. Probably dangerous, but there were sixteen of us kids in the neighbourhood who grew up without ever having to visit the dentist.”
Teeth. Something to talk about anyhow. Hakon went over to check the fax machine again. It was still on and working okay, just as it had been the last time he’d checked and the time before. The little green light stared up arrogantly at him, but to reassure himself he had to verify once more that there was paper in the feed tray. Of course there was. He could feel a yawn coming on, but he suppressed it by clenching his jaws. Tears came to his eyes. He picked up a well-thumbed pack of playing cards and cast an enquiring glance at Hanne. She shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t mind, but let’s play something different. Casino, for instance.”
They finished two games before the fax emitted a promising trill. The green light had changed to yellow and a few seconds later the machine sucked in the top blank sheet of paper. It remained in the machine for a moment before its head emerged on the other side, neatly printed with a fax cover sheet from Oslo Magistrates Court.
They both felt their pulses racing. An uncomfortable tingling crept up Hakon’s back, and he had to shake himself.
“Shall we take it out page by page, or wait till the whole lot has arrived?” he asked with a wry grin.
“Let’s go get ourselves a cup of coffee, then when we come back, it’ll all be there. It’s better than standing here waiting for it page by page.”
They had the feeling they were absolutely alone as they left the room and walked along the corridor. Neither of them said anything. But the coffee in the anteroom had gone, so someone must have been in, because Hanne had put a fresh jug on less than an hour before. Hakon went into his office instead, opened the window, and brought in a plastic bag that had been hanging on a nail outside. He took out two half-litre bottles of orangeade.
“The only fizzy drink that quenches nothing but your thirst,” he quoted sardonically.
They clinked bottles in a gloomy toast. Hakon did nothing to suppress a loud and substantial belch, while Hanne gave a tiny burp. They returned to the incident room. Very slowly. There was a smell of polish, and the floor gleamed more than usual.
When they came into the room the evil green eye had taken over again from its yellow counterpart. The machine had reverted to its somnolent hum, and the out-tray now contained several sheets of paper. Hakon picked them up with a hand trembling more from fatigue than tension and quickly perused the top final page. He sank down onto the small sofa and read aloud:
“The defendant Jorgen Ulf Lavik will be remanded in custody until the Court or the prosecution service deems otherwise, though no later than Monday 6 December. Visits and correspondence will be prohibited for the duration
