ladies from Thailand. It had taken a while to discover the manufacturers of the key, but once they found them, they succeeded in narrowing it down in just a few hours to the cupboard it might fit. In view of Lavik’s shattered reputation they were all convinced that the specific one would be found in the brothel. But they were wrong. Lavik had pumped iron twice a week, as on checking the file they realised they already knew.
The locker was so small that the attache case had only been squeezed in with difficulty. It now lay unopened, its combination lock still unassailed, on Kaldbakken’s desk on the second floor, blue zone. Hakon Sand and Hanne Wilhelmsen were anticipating an early Christmas present and could hardly bear to wait for the leather-covered metal case to be broached.
The combination was no match for Kaldbakken’s screwdriver. They’d fiddled about with the six numbered wheels just to satisfy themselves, but had soon given up. After all, the owner had no use for it anymore, even though it was still new.
None of them could understand why he’d done it. It was incomprehensible for the man to have taken such a risk. The only logical explanation was that he’d hoped to drag others down with him if he fell. He would have been unlikely to need such a thick bundle of documentation while he was alive. It must have been a real security headache for him. In a fitness centre, where he could never be sure that the owner wouldn’t make an inquisitive round of his affluent members’ lockers after closing time, he had stashed away a complete and detailed account of a syndicate none of the three readers had ever imagined they would come across, except perhaps in a crime novel.
“He doesn’t mention the attack on me,” said Hanne, “which must mean that I was right. It must have been the under secretary.”
Kaldbakken and Sand were totally uninterested. If it had turned out to be the Pope himself who’d travelled north to commit violence on a defenceless woman, they wouldn’t have batted an eyelid.
They spent a couple of hours going right through it. Some of the papers they pored over together, some they took turns to read. Occasional exclamations prompted them to lean over one another’s shoulders. After a while they were no longer surprised at anything.
“This will have to go straight to the top,” said Hanne when they’d finished reading and had put it all back into the damaged leather case.
She pointed her finger at the ceiling. And she didn’t mean God.
The minister of justice insisted on a press conference that very evening. The Special Branch and the Intelligence Service had protested vociferously, but in vain. The scandal would be enormous if the media found out that they had kept the matter under wraps for more than a few hours. It was significant enough as it was.
The minister’s striking appearance had taken a severe buffeting in the course of the day. His skin was more pallid and his hair less golden. He could hear the baying of the newshounds outside the door. For various reasons he had decided that the conference should be held in police headquarters.
“It’s only you lot who’ll come out of this affair with any glory,” he’d declared sarcastically when the commissioner had expressed the opinion that they should receive the journalists in the government building. “We’ll have the press conference under police auspices.”
What he forbore to mention was that there was a virtual state of emergency in and around all the government buildings. The prime minister had ordered a tripling of security arrangements and had become increasingly paranoid about the media as the day wore on. Police headquarters would thus afford a welcome diversion.
Taking a few deep breaths he strode into the big lecture hall. It was fortunate that he had some reserves of oxygen, because the crush inside the double doors nearly suffocated him.
Hakon Sand and Hanne Wilhelmsen stood leaning against the wall at the back of the room. The affair was now totally out of their hands. It had progressed up the building at an unprecedented rate. All they’d heard was a brief message to say that the case could now be regarded as fully investigated and finally solved. Which was okay by them.
“It’ll be interesting to see how they get themselves out of this one,” said Hanne in an undertone.
“They can’t get out of it,” said Hakon, shaking his head. “This is something no one is going to emerge from unscathed. Except us two. The heroes. Us in our white Stetsons.”
“The good guys!”
They were both wreathed in smiles. Hakon put an arm round his colleague, and she didn’t push it away. A couple of uniformed constables gave them a furtive glance, but rumours had already been circulating for some time and were no longer so intriguing.
Where they stood they were practically invisible to the crowd up at the front of the room. Five powerful floodlights had hastily been rigged up by the technicians from the three TV channels, and that had left the back of the room in darkness compared with the fierce glare over the table where all the VIPs were sitting. Norwegian Radio and Television were broadcasting live. It was four minutes to seven. The press release, issued through the Press Agency three hours earlier, had said everything and nothing. No details, simply that the parliamentary under secretary had been arrested for a serious criminal offence, and that the government had convened a special session. In fact, everyone who could justify their presence, plus a few more, had got to the meeting in the chamber in double-quick time.
The commissioner opened the proceedings now. If it hadn’t been for the whirr of the camera motorwinds, you’d have been able to hear the proverbial pin drop even from Hanne’s and Hakon’s position.
She seemed nervous, but brought herself under control. She had prepared some notes in advance, several A4 sheets that she kept shuffling backwards and forwards to no obvious purpose.
The police had reason to believe that the parliamentary under secretary in the Ministry of Justice was involved with, had quite possibly masterminded, a group whom they suspected of the illegal importation of narcotic substances.
“Another way of saying that the guy’s a mafia boss,” Hakon whispered in Hanne’s ear. “Now we’re getting the refined legal version!”
The shocked and excited buzz died down immediately when the commissioner resumed speaking.
“As we see it at the present time,” she said, coughing discreetly behind her hand, “as we have reason to believe, the organisation consisted of two groups. The deceased lawyer Hans E. Olsen was responsible for one, the deceased lawyer Jorgen Ulf Lavik for the other. We have reason to suspect that the under secretary directed both of them. He has been arrested and charged with the importation and distribution of unknown quantities of narcotic substances.”
She cleared her throat again, as if reluctant to continue.
“How much?” one of the journalists ventured, without getting a reply.
“He has also been charged with the murder of Hans E. Olsen.”
Now a ton of pins could have dropped unnoticed amidst the hail of questions.
“Has he confessed?”
“What grounds do you have for your suspicions?”
“What kind of money are we talking about?”
“Have you made any seizures?”
It took nearly ten minutes to bring the meeting to order. The head of the CID kept thumping the table, and the commissioner had sat back down in her chair, pursing her lips in mute refusal to answer anything until the room was quiet again. She looked older than ever.
“Don’t see why she seems so tense,” Hanne murmured to Hakon. “She ought to be damned pleased. It’s a long time since anyone in our building has been able to claim such a triumph!”
The head of the CID finally succeeded in achieving silence.
“There’ll be an opportunity for questions after reports from the various interested parties. But not before. We ask for your patience and cooperation.”
Whether the general muttering from the journalists was an indication of assent was difficult to know. But at least the commissioner was able to continue.
“It seems that these activities have been in progress for some years. We think since 1986. It’s too early to speculate on the possible total quantities.” She coughed again.
