Fear Not

‘Why did he fall out with the children?’ she said quietly, staring blankly into space.

‘Georg Koll?’

‘Yes.’

‘As I said, he was an absolute shit most of the time. And I’m sure there was something about Marcus – he didn’t like the fact that Marcus was gay. The other two children sided with their brother. Marcus Koll was probably one of the first who really… Well, he was the first person I knew who was openly gay. There was quite a bit of talk about it. In those circles. You know.’

Knut still knew very little about those circles, and Johanne looked as if she had barely heard what the inspector had said.

‘Niclas was gay as well,’ she said expressionlessly.

‘Georg can’t possibly have known that.’

‘In the case in the US there’s a link between…’

Her eyes suddenly focused.

‘So these two men are brothers,’ she said, so quietly that Knut had difficulty hearing her. ‘Half-brothers. In a similar case in the US it turned out there was a remarkable link between the victims. Could…?’

She looked from one to the other.

‘Could Marcus Koll be the next victim?’

Her eyes slid from Knut to the calendar.

‘The nineteenth of January is the day after tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Could it be…?’

‘Do you believe in your own theory?’ Knut broke in irritably. ‘Or have you already dropped it? If The 25’ers really are behind these murders, I’m sure they’ll have made sure they got their people out of the country long ago! VG gave away virtually everything we know, and the perpetrators must be idiots if they… For fuck’s sake, NCIS has been in constant contact with the FBI for the last twenty-four hours! The Americans might be bowing and scraping and thanking us for putting all our resources into the investigation, and sending people over tomorrow to help us, but they’re making no effort to hide the fact that they think the perpetrators are on their way home!’

Johanne slammed the statute book shut with a dull thud.

‘If we really do believe they intend to go on murdering people,’ Knut said harshly, ‘then we ought to do what they suggest in this rag…’

He waved the newspaper around.

‘… and warn every gay man and woman about next Monday. And the twenty-fourth. And the twenty-seventh. There’ll be total-’

‘It can’t do any harm to send a patrol car,’ Silje said reprovingly. ‘An unmarked car. With plain-clothes officers. Nothing to attract attention. Marcus Koll ought to be informed about the fact that-’

‘He ought to be informed about as little as possible,’ Johanne interrupted. ‘Or at least he shouldn’t be told anything whatsoever about this will. I think he should be confronted with that particular piece of information under different circumstances and by different people, not during a visit by a couple of plain-clothes officers. We don’t even know if he’s aware he has a brother.’

‘We’ll send someone round anyway,’ Silje said firmly. ‘They’re not going to say anything about the will, because so far we’re the only ones who know about it. They can… express a general concern for homosexuals with a public profile. Everyone knows about this case now. It should be fine.’

She smiled and stood up, signalling that the meeting was over.

Johanne remained seated, lost in her own thoughts, until Knut Bork had left the room and Silje was standing with her hand on the light switch.

‘Are you thinking of staying here?’ she asked. ‘If so, it could get a bit lonely.’

***

Marcus Koll was all alone in the big house on Holmenkollen, apart from the dogs who were fast asleep in their basket next to the open fire. He had showered and put on clean clothes. Since he didn’t know how long Rolf was going to be away, he had used the electric shaver instead of bothering with foam and a razor. When he was ready he had spent a few minutes in his study before sitting down in one of the soft, wing-backed armchairs in front of the picture window that looked out over the city and the fjord.

He was waiting.

He felt calm. Relieved, somehow. A faint tingling in his body reminded him more of being in love than of the sorrow he felt, and he breathed deeply through his nose.

It was the view he had fallen for once upon a time.

The garden sloped gently down towards the two tall pine trees by the fence right at the bottom. The other trees along the boundary provided privacy from the neighbouring house down below, but in no way detracted from the glorious panoramic view. Living up here was like living well outside the city, and it was this feeling of isolation combined with the view that had made him buy the house.

‘Are you sitting here in the dark?’ said a voice from behind him.

One by one the lamps in the living room were switched on.

‘Marcus?’ Rolf came and stood in front of him, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. ‘You’re ready. But it’s only half-past two, and-’

‘Come and sit down, please.’

‘I can’t make you out at all today, Marcus. I hope this won’t take long, because we’ve got a lot to do. Marcus has decided to sleep over at Johan’s, so that’s-’

‘Good. Sit down. Please.’

Rolf sat down in the matching armchair a metre away. They were half-facing the view, half-facing each other.

‘What is it?’

‘Do you remember that hard drive you found?’ asked Marcus, coughing.

‘What?’

‘Do you remember finding a hard drive in the Maserati?’

‘Yes. You said… I can’t remember what you said, but… what about it?’

‘It wasn’t broken. I took it out of my computer so nobody would be able to see which websites I’d been surfing that night. If anyone happened to check, I mean.’

Rolf was perched on the edge of the chair, his mouth half-open. Marcus was leaning back with his feet on a matching footstool, both arms resting on the soft upholstery.

‘Porn,’ Rolf said with an uncertain smile, taking a guess. ‘Did you…? Have you downloaded something illegal that-?’

‘No. I’d read an article in Dagbladet. It was quite harmless, in fact, but I wanted to be on the safe side. Absolutely on the safe side.’ He snorted, a mixture of laughter and tears, then looked at Rolf and said: ‘Could you possibly sit back a bit?’

‘I’ll sit how I want! What’s the matter with you, Marcus? Your voice sounds strange and you’re behaving… oddly! Sitting here in your suit and tie early on a Saturday afternoon, talking about illegal surfing… in Dagbladet! How the hell can it be illegal to-?’

Marcus got up abruptly. Rolf closed his mouth with an audible little click as his teeth banged together.

‘I’m begging you,’ said Marcus, running both hands over his head in an impotent gesture. ‘I’m begging you to listen to what I have to say. Without interrupting. This is difficult enough, and at least I’ve found a way to begin now. Let me get through this.’

‘Of course,’ said Rolf. ‘What’s…? Of course. Carry on. Tell me.’

Marcus stared at the armchair for a few seconds, then sat down again.

‘I came across a story about an artist called Niclas Winter. He was dead. The suggestion was that it was due to an overdose.’

‘Niclas Winter,’ said Rolf, clearly puzzled. ‘He was one of the victims of-’

‘Yes. He was one of the people murdered by the American hate group that VG has been writing about over the past few days. He was also my brother. Half-brother. My father’s son.’