Karin Fossum - He Who Fears The Wolf

Sejer was still standing there, staring. He couldn't quell his unease. With a resigned heave of his shoulders and firm steps he walked back. He didn't have to tell anyone about this. He opened the door, trudged down the narrow corridor, and emerged near the tellers' windows. There were two customers there. The man with the bag and a young girl. A woman employee had just put on her glasses and was bending over the keyboard of her computer. The man with the bag stood with his back turned, filling out a form. He didn't look up as Sejer came in. It looked as if he was in a hurry.

Sejer looked around in confusion. For the sake of appearances, he plucked a brochure about retirement funds from a rack on the wall, and then left. There has to be a limit, he told himself sternly. And besides, he was now several minutes late, and he wasn't in the habit of being the last one to arrive at work. He made his way back out to the pedestrian street and walked off at a faster pace towards the justice department. He passed the jewellery store advertising a sale, Brunner's Florist, and Pino Pino where Elise used to buy her clothes. Including that red dress. A few minutes later he could see the top floors of Headquarters, and at that moment a shot was fired. Some distance away, but still quite clear. Then someone started screaming.

Almost everyone stopped in their tracks. Only a few people heard it and kept walking, casting a quick glance over their shoulders. Others were pressed up against the walls of the buildings across from the bank. A mother put her arms protectively around her child. An old man who seemed to be hard of hearing looked around in bewilderment, wondering why everyone else had stopped. He stared open-mouthed at Sejer, who came rushing up, his briefcase swinging wildly. He was a good runner, but the briefcase interfered with his rhythm, making him look clumsy. A woman staggered out of the bank. She leaned against the wall of the building and hid her face in her hands. He recognised her as the teller. The next moment she collapsed, sliding down to a sitting position on the pavement.

"Police," he said, out of breath. "What happened? Is anyone hurt?"

"Police?" She looked up at him in astonishment. "He robbed me," she gasped. "He robbed me and then ran out to the square. He's gone, drove off in a white car."

Sejer's eyes widened as he heard the rest of her story.

"He took a girl with him."

"What did you say?"

"He took her with him. Took her out of the bank and put her in his car."

"A hostage?"

"He stuck his gun in her ear!"

Sejer turned to look at the square. A thin trickle of water was streaming out of the fountain, and the pigeons were calmly pecking at breadcrumbs, showing no concern. He left the teller and went over to two youths who were talking excitedly. They were standing near the fountain and had a good view of the bank and the main street,

"Did you see which way he went?"

They stopped talking and stared at him.

"Police," he added as he set down his briefcase.

"That was damned fast work!" exclaimed one of the young men, who seemed as thin as a beanpole. His sunglasses were perched on top of his head, and his hair was black with a bleached streak in the middle. He turned around and pointed towards the main street, which wound past the fire station and the Diamond restaurant before heading out of town.

"He was shoving a girl in front of him. Threw her into the car."

"What kind of car was it?" he asked as he fumbled with his belt to unfasten his mobile phone.

"A little white car. Maybe a Renault."

"Stay here," he said.

"We're supposed to be at work by now," said the other youth. "And besides, it wasn't a Renault if you ask me, it looked more like a Peugeot."

"Today you're going to be a little late for work," Sejer said curtly. "It can happen to the best of us. Was he wearing a ski mask?"

"Yes."

"Black jumper and corduroy trousers?"

"Do you know who he is?"

"No."

"Can we come down to the station?"

"Most probably."

It might have been staged, the thought came to him. They might have been in on it together. Maybe she was his girlfriend. A fake hostage. Two people inside the bank 30 seconds after opening, how likely was that? Criminals were getting so damned inventive.

The small groups of pedestrians were gradually dispersing, but a few people were lingering, perhaps hoping they would be asked to give statements. There was nothing more to see. The man was gone. It was all over in seconds. A few people couldn't help but think how easy it was. With a fast car and knowledge of the local area someone could cover a lot of territory in only half an hour.

The boy with the badger hair put on his sunglasses. "You've got the whole thing on video, haven't you?"

"Let's hope so," Sejer muttered. He'd had mixed experiences with video surveillance. He turned round as a squad car drove into the square. Gøren Soot jumped out, bringing a frown to Sejer's face, and right after him came Karlsen, which caused him to breathe a sigh of relief.

"We've got a hostage situation. A young woman. And the gun is loaded. He fired a shot inside the bank."

Karlsen stared at the boy's badger hair.

"Take these two in so they can give a statement. They saw the robber and the car. Run in and get the videotape as fast as you can. We've got to find out who the hostage is. Set up a roadblock at E18 and E76. Use our private radio band. It's a small white car, possibly French."

"Did he get much?" Karlsen peered in through the bank door.

"Don't know yet. How many men can we scrape together?"

"Not many. I sent Skarre to talk to Officer Gurvin, four officers are away taking courses, and another four are on holiday."

"We'll have to ask for reinforcements. The only thing we can focus on right now is the hostage."

"Let's hope he opens the car door and dumps her on the road."

"We can always hope," Sejer said grimly. "Let's have a talk with the teller."

The two young men had to wait in the back seat of the squad car, and they didn't mind in the least. Sejer and Karlsen went inside the bank where the teller was sitting on one of the chairs near the window. With her was the bank manager, who had been inside the vault and had no idea what was going on until he'd heard the shot, and then he didn't dare venture out until he heard the sirens.

Sejer quietly observed the young woman teller who had just been robbed. She was as white as a sheet, with beads of sweat on her forehead, but she wasn't hurt. All she had done was raise her hand to pick up several bundles of notes from a shelf and place them on the counter. Yet it was obvious that from now on her life would never be the same. She might think about making her will. Not that she had much to bequeath in all likelihood, but it was the kind of thing she'd think should be taken care of while there was still time. He sat down next to her and spoke gently.

"Are you all right?"

She began to sob.

"Yes," she said as firmly as she could manage. "I'm OK. But when I think about that girl he took with him… You should have heard what he said. I don't dare think about what he's going to do with her."

"Now, now," Sejer said. "Let's not jump ahead of ourselves. He took her along to gain free passage out to the car. Have you ever seen her before?"

"Never."

"Can you tell me what he said when he was standing at the counter?"

"I can tell you exactly what he said," she replied. "I'll never forget it. He went up to her from behind. First he put his arm around her neck and pulled her away from the counter, then he shoved her to the floor and put his foot on her head. And then he screamed at me, 'If you hesitate for even a second I'm going to blow her brains all over the floor!' Then he fired a shot. At the ceiling, I mean. The ceiling tiles exploded and flew in all directions. My hair is full of plaster."