Anne Holt - Death In Oslo

‘Is this a park?’ Warren Scifford asked without any real interest. ‘A big park?’

‘No. This is the edge of the city. Or the start of the forest, whichever way you want to look at it. This is where the two meet, trees and houses. Lovely, isn’t it? Sit yourself down.’

Warren looked at the dirty bench with suspicion. Adam produced a hanky and wiped away the remains of the national-day celebrations. A patch of hardened chocolate ice cream, a stripe of ketchup and something he’d rather not guess at.

‘There. Sit down.’

He took two enormous rolls and two cans of Diet Coke out of a plastic bag.

‘Have to think about my weight,’ he said, putting it all down on the bench between them. ‘I actually prefer regular Coke. The real thing . But you know…’

He patted his stomach. Warren said nothing. He didn’t touch the food. Instead he sat watching three Canada geese. A small dog, which was half the size of the largest bird, was being chased around on the grassy bank down by the water. It seemed to be enjoying itself. Every time the biggest goose chased it away with a snapping beak, the swift little beast spun round and zigzagged its way back.

‘Don’t you want any?’ Adam asked with his mouth full.

Warren still didn’t say anything.

‘Listen,’ Adam said and swallowed. ‘I’ve been given the job of following you around. It’s becoming more and more obvious that you’re not particularly keen on telling me anything at all. Or perhaps I should say us. Keeping us informed. So can’t we just…’ he took another big bite of his roll, ‘enjoy ourselves instead?’

The words disappeared in the food.

The dog had got bored, and no longer cared about the hissing geese. Instead it was scurrying around on the bank with its nose on the ground, heading towards Maridalsvannet.

Adam continued eating in silence. Warren turned his face to the sun, rested his left foot on his right knee and closed his eyes against the bright light.

‘What’s up?’ Adam asked when he’d finished his roll and eaten half of Warren’s.

He crumpled up the plastic wrappers and put them in the bag, then opened one of the cans and took a drink. ‘What’s up with you?’ he repeated and tried to swallow a burp.

Warren still didn’t move.

‘As you like,’ Adam said, taking out a pair of sunglasses from his breast pocket.

‘There’s a monster out there,’ Warren said, without changing position.

‘There are lots of them.’ Adam nodded. ‘Far too many, if you ask me.’

‘There’s one that wants to break us.’

‘Uhum…’

‘He’s already started. The problem is that I don’t know how he intends to continue. And there’s no one who’ll listen to me.’

Adam tried to find a more comfortable position on the wooden bench. For a moment he put his foot on his knee, like Warren. But his stomach protested against being squashed, and he put his foot down again.

‘I’m sitting here,’ he said. ‘My ears are open.’

Finally, Warren smiled. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked around.

‘It really is beautiful here,’ he said quietly. ‘How’s Johanne?’

‘Well… she’s very well.’

Adam rummaged around in the plastic bag and produced a bar of chocolate. He opened it and offered it to Warren.

‘No thanks. With my hand on my heart, I can say that she was the best, brightest student I ever had.’

Adam looked at the chocolate. Then he wrapped the paper around it again and put it back in the bag.

‘Johanne’s very well,’ he repeated. ‘We had a daughter last winter. A healthy, lovely little girl. And other than that, I think we should change the subject, Warren.’

‘Is it that bad? Is she still…?’

Adam took off his sunglasses.

‘Yes, it’s that bad. I don’t want to talk to you about Johanne. It would be fundamentally disloyal. And in any case, I just don’t want to. OK?’

‘Of course.’

The American bowed slightly and opened his hands.

‘My greatest weakness,’ he said with a tight-lipped smile. ‘Women.’

Adam didn’t know what to say to that. He started to wonder whether the outing had been a good idea. An hour earlier, when Warren had appeared at Peter Salhus’ office without warning and without really having anything to tell, Adam had thought that a break in their usual routine might help them to get talking again.

But he certainly did not want to talk about Johanne.

‘You know,’ Warren continued. ‘Sometimes when I lie awake at night and sweat, thinking about the mistakes I’ve made in my life, it strikes me that they are all related to women. And now I find myself in a situation where, if President Bentley is not found alive, my career is over. A woman holds my destiny in her hands.’

He gave a demonstrative sigh.

‘Women. I don’t understand them. They are irresistible and incomprehensible.’

Adam realised he was grinding his teeth. He concentrated on not doing it. It was almost impossible, and he stroked his cheek with his hand to try to relax it.

‘You don’t agree,’ Warren laughed.

‘No.’ Adam sat up abruptly. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘I find very, very few of them irresistible. Most of them are very easy to understand. Not always, not all the time, but generally. But…’ he threw open his arms and looked completely the other way, ‘that also means that you have to see them as equals.’

‘ Touché, ’ Warren said and gave the sun a broad smile. ‘Very politically correct. Very… Scandinavian.’

A ringtone interrupted the sound of birdsong and running water. Adam felt all his pockets to locate his phone.

‘Hello,’ he barked, when he finally found it.

‘Adam?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s Peter.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Peter Salhus.’

‘Oh, right. Hello.’

Adam was about to get up and move away from the bench when he suddenly remembered that Warren didn’t speak Norwegian.

‘Anything new?’ he asked.

‘Yes. But between you and me, Adam. Can I have your word?’

‘Of course. What is it?’

‘Without going into any details, I have to admit that we have… Well, we’ve got a fairly good idea about what’s going on at the American embassy. Let’s put it that way.’

Pause.

They’re tapping them, Adam thought to himself and grabbed the half-empty can of Coke. They’ve tapped an allied embassy on Norwegian soil. What the hell…

‘They think the President is alive, Adam.’

Adam’s pulse increased a hint. He coughed and tried to keep a straight face. Just to be on the safe side, he turned away from Warren.

‘And where is she?’

‘Well, that’s the whole point. They believe that the President has accessed websites that she needs a code to get into. Either it’s her, or someone else has managed to get her to give them the codes. And even if the latter is true, it would still mean that she’s alive.’

‘But… I don’t quite…’

‘They’ve traced her to your wife’s IP address. But luckily they don’t know that yet.’

‘Joh-’

He stopped. He didn’t want to say her name when Warren might hear.

‘They traced an IP address to a computer that belongs to the university. Now they’re arguing with the management up there to find out who uses the machine. We think we managed to delay them a bit, but not for that long. But I thought… I’ll get Bastesen to send a patrol car out to your house, just in case. If there’s any truth in these rumours that the FBI has taken the law into their own hands, you know. And if I was you, I’d go home.’

‘Yes… Of course. Thank you.’

He finished the conversation, without it crossing his mind that the patrol car should be sent somewhere else. Johanne wasn’t at home. She and Ragnhild were somewhere in Frogner. At an address he didn’t know.