Anne Holt - Fear Not

‘According to this will,’ Johanne said, ‘the three of them should have received a million each, and Niclas should have inherited the rest.’

Silje gave a long drawn-out, shrill whistle.

‘We’re talking big money here,’ she said. ‘But surely there has to be…’

Knut Bork leapt up and grabbed the document.

‘Surely there has to be a statute of limitation,’ he said agitatedly, as if it were his own fortune they were discussing. ‘I mean, Niclas couldn’t just turn up after all these years and start demanding…’

He broke off and adopted a posture that made him look like a keen lecturer.

‘Why the hell did I let that woman go?’ he said. ‘She mentioned something about Niclas Winter ringing around various solicitors more or less at random. He said his mother had just died, and she had told him on her deathbed that there was an important document addressed to him held by a legal practice in Oslo. It would secure his future. Perhaps he didn’t…’

They looked at each other. Johanne had found the section on inheritance law, and was sitting with her hand between the pages.

‘There’s a lot that needs checking, of course,’ she said hesitantly. ‘But at the moment it looks as if he didn’t know about the will.’

‘Why did his mother keep the fact that he was going to be rolling in money a secret from him? Shouldn’t she have made sure that…?’

‘Perhaps she didn’t want him to find out his father’s identity until after her death,’ said Silje. ‘There’s so much we don’t know. There’s no point in speculating any further, really.’

‘But we do know something,’ Johanne interjected. ‘There have been a couple of articles in Dagens Næringsliv about Niclas Winter since he died. His installations have shot up in price, at a time when sales of modern art are virtually non-existent. It said in the paper that he had no heirs, and that he was… fatherless. His mother was an only child, and his maternal grandparents are dead.’

‘So we can draw the conclusion that Niclas had no idea who his father was, or that he was the rightful heir,’ said Knut Bork, perching on the windowsill with one foot on Johanne’s chair.

‘Not at the time, anyway,’ she said. ‘In which case the statute of limitation doesn’t run out until…’

The thin paper rustled faintly as she turned the pages.

‘Paragraph 70,’ she said vaguely. ‘He’s got six months. From when he finds out about the will, I mean. But I agree with you, Knut. As far as I know there is a definite statute of limitation… I think it’s…’

The rest disappeared in an unintelligible mumble as she read. Knut waggled his foot impatiently, and leaned forwards to try and see the book for himself.

‘Paragraph 75,’ Johanne suddenly said loudly, following the text with her finger: ‘ The right to claim an inheritance lapses when the heir does not validate such a claim within ten years of the death of the testator . That’s what I thought.’

‘Fifteenth of April this year,’ said Silje. ‘That’s when the statute of limitation would run out.’

The computer’s screen saver suddenly burst into a silent firework display. Johanne stared at the red magnetic ring around Saturday 17 January. It had an almost hypnotic effect on her. In two days it would be the nineteenth once more, and she felt the hairs on her arms stand on end. Knut put his feet on the floor and stood up.

‘But could Niclas come along and claim everything his siblings have owned for almost ten years?’ he exclaimed. ‘Isn’t that bloody unjust, actually?’

Johanne was lost in thought.

‘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.