Cancel the sale. Move home again and take back his boat, cat, and glass soldiers. Everything would be just as before. He had a good life. Safe, at least, especially once the nightmares stopped suddenly one night in March of 1993.
Norway had changed.
People spoke differently as well. The youths sitting in front of him on the bus into Oslo spoke a language he barely understood. Everything would be fine once he was installed in the Continental. Aksel Seier could only remember the names of two good hotels in Oslo, the Grand and the Continental. The latter sounded better than the first. It was no doubt expensive, but he had money and a platinum card. When he put his American passport on the counter, the lady spoke English to him. She smiled when he answered in Norwegian. She was friendly. Everyone was friendly and the waiter here in the Theatercafe spoke the Norwegian that Aksel could remember and understand.
“Are you passing through?” asked the thin man as he put the bill on the table.
“Yes. No. Passing through.”
“Perhaps you are staying at the hotel,” said the waiter as he took the card. “I hope you have a pleasant stay. We really are heading toward summer now. Lovely.”
Aksel Seier wanted to go back to his room and sleep for a couple of hours. He had to get used to being here. Then he would go for a walk in town in the evening. He wanted to see how much he could remember. He wanted to get a feel for Norway. See if Norway recognized him. Aksel didn’t think so. It was a long time ago. He would contact Eva tomorrow. But not until tomorrow. He wanted to be well rested when he met her. He knew that she was ill and was prepared for anything.
Before he went to sleep, he would call Johanne Vik. After all, it was only three o’clock in the afternoon. She was probably still at work. Maybe she was still angry with him for just disappearing, especially as she’d come all the way to the U.S. to meet him. But she had left her card, both in the mailbox and pinned to the door.
She must still be interested in chatting, at least.
SIXTY-ONE
Johanne had a strange feeling that it was already Friday. When she left the office at two o’clock under the half-pretence that she was going to the bookstore, she had to tell herself more than once that it was still only Wednesday, June 7. At Norli’s bookstore she picked up a paperback copy of
It was nearly time for the news. She turned on the TV.
Laffen Sornes had been spotted on a main road northeast of Oslo. He was on foot. The descriptions from three separate witnesses were identical, down to the smallest detail, from his camouflage clothes to the arm in a cast. Before anyone managed to apprehend him, the fugitive had vanished into the woods again. The police were being assisted by two Finnish bear hunters. TV2 had helicopters in the area, whereas NRK, for the time being, were complying with the police’s request to stay on the ground. But they had five different teams there, none of whom really had anything to say.
Johanne shuddered as she flipped between the two channels.
The telephone rang. She managed to turn down the volume on the TV before lifting the receiver. The voice at the other end was unknown.
“Am I talking to Johanne Vik?”
“Yes…”
“I’m sorry to disturb you in the evening. My name is Unni Kongsbakken.”
“I see.”
Johanne swallowed and switched the receiver from her left to her right hand.
“I believe you talked to my husband on Monday. Is that right?”
“Yes, I…”
“Astor died this morning,” said the voice.
Johanne tried to turn off the TV but hit the volume button instead. A news anchor shouted that the nine o’clock news would be entirely dedicated to the Great Manhunt. Johanne finally managed to get the right button and everything went quiet.
“I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “My con… condolences.”
“Thank you,” said the voice. “I’m calling because I would very much like to meet you.”
Unni Kongsbakken’s voice was remarkably calm, considering that she had been widowed only a few hours earlier.
“Meet me… Yes. What… of course.”
“My husband was very agitated by your phone call. And my son called yesterday and said that you’d been to his office. Astor… well, he died early this morning.”
“I really do apologize if… I mean, it was never my intention to…”
“It wasn’t a dramatic death, Mrs. Vik. Don’t upset yourself. Astor was ninety-two and his health was quite poor.”
“Yes, but… but I…”
Johanne really had no idea what to say.
“I’m no spring chicken myself,” said Unni Kongsbakken. “And tomorrow I’m coming home with my husband. He wanted to be buried in Norway. I would very grateful if you could take the time to meet me for a chat tomorrow afternoon. The plane lands around midday. Would it be possible to meet at say three…?”
“But… surely it can wait! Until after the funeral, at least.”
“No. This has been long enough in the waiting. Please, Mrs. Vik.”
“Johanne,” mumbled Johanne.
“Three o’clock then. At the Grand Hotel? Is that alright? You are generally left in peace there.”
“Fine. Three o’clock at the Grand Cafe.”
“Speak to you tomorrow. Good-bye.”
The old lady hung up the phone before Johanne managed to answer. She remained sitting with the receiver in her hand for a long time. It wasn’t easy to know what made her breathe so fast and shallow, guilt or curiosity.
She felt the color rising to her cheeks.
Adam Stubo sat alone in his office and read the e-mail for a second time. May Berit Benonisen had given the police in Tromso no information other than that she had once known Karsten Asli, rather superficially, as she had already told them. The e-mail was short and to the point. The officer had obviously not understood the importance of Adam’s request. May Berit Benonisen had been questioned over the telephone.
Tonnes Selbu had never heard of Karsten Asli.
Grete Harborg was dead.
Turid Sande Oksoy was incommunicado. When Adam finally managed to get through to the family in the afternoon, Turid had gone to their cabin. There was no phone there. In Telemark, said Lasse, curt and unhelpful. He asked to be left in peace until the police had managed to find some concrete evidence.
Sigmund Berli had still found nothing more about Asli’s son. Adam suspected that he wasn’t giving the job his all. Even though Sigmund was the person who was closest to him at work, it felt as if he was slipping away too.
Everything had changed after the accident. It was as though by losing Elizabeth and Trine he had been branded; a stigma that made other people embarrassed. Everyone went quiet at the lunch table when he sat
