Anne Holt - 1222

‘But… in this weather!’

‘As I said: Johan is probably the only person in Norway, in the whole world for all I know, who can cope with any kind of weather. If the snowmobile can do it, then Johan can do it. He’s as bowlegged as a cowboy. It’s just that his horse is called Yamaha.’

There was snow in the air.

The door with slender panels of glass that had separated the stairs from the grotesque hole in the wall had been torn open and smashed by the wind.

Although I was still sitting over by the kitchen door, separated from the hole in the wall by the entire lobby, a flight of stairs and half a floor, I could clearly feel and see the snowflakes dancing in the moving air. So far they were melting as soon as they hit the floor.

‘Perhaps he ought to get a move on,’ I said, thinking about Cato Hammer once again. ‘I have a feeling time is short.’

Geir clapped his gloved hands together. Then he leaned towards me once again with one hand on each wheel. Fortunately, the brakes were on.

‘It might not look like it, but we have actually got this under control. I can promise you one thing: as long as people stay indoors’ – the feeling of being indoors wasn’t actually all that palpable at the moment – ‘then nobody will freeze to death at Finse 1222. You have my word on that.’

I almost dared to believe the man.

And I had good reason to do so, as it turned out.

It was four thirty. It was still unpleasantly cold, but at least it had stopped snowing in the lobby. As I quickly calculated that we would soon be on our second day at Finse, I almost couldn’t believe it. For many years I have lived according to a slow routine that suits me. Nothing happens and nothing is going to happen. Everything is predictable and can take its own time. I have more than enough time, and I am happy to fritter it away. However, the past twenty-five hours had been so eventful that for long periods of time I had forgotten how tired I was.

‘Are you asleep?’ asked Geir in surprise.

He had undone the top part of his snowmobile suit. It was dangling down and flapping around his hips. He reminded me of Ida when she comes rushing in after she’s been picked up from nursery, and hasn’t time to take her outdoor things off before she climbs up on my knee for a hug and a ride around the apartment.

I must remember to call home.

‘No, of course not,’ I said in confusion, blinking furiously.

I really must remember to call.

‘We’ve secured the hole,’ he said, raising his fist in a victory gesture. ‘With planks and sheets of metal and whatever else we could find. Then we packed the whole thing with blankets and nailed them to whatever we could. It’s as cold as hell up there, and the draught made it almost impossible to get close to the damaged part of the wall. Plus the entire corridor is full of snow. But…’ He knotted his sleeves around his waist. ‘We’re still here. It’s starting to warm up again. In an hour or two it will at least be habitable in here.’

It was about time. My lips had gone numb, and my jaws were aching from pressing my teeth together to avoid biting my tongue.

‘What about the other side?’ I asked. ‘Have they managed to seal up that opening too?’

‘Yes. Two of the lads from the Red Cross and one of the joiners got a couple of men from the train to help them. It was easier from that side. They were finished before us.’

He patted his breast pocket.

‘Good old Telenor. The mobile coverage has been brilliant. We were in touch all the time.’

I took a deep breath and tried to lower my shoulders. But the cold sank its claws into me once again, and every muscle in my body tensed. I looked around for Magnus Streng. The wound at the top of my thigh was still bleeding. I hadn’t dared to look at the other side.

The doctor was nowhere to be seen.

‘Come with me,’ said Geir, beckoning me after him as he set off.

‘What do you want?’

‘Come with me.’

It was obvious that I was more troubled by the cold than others were. I was bleeding, and had been sitting still for a long time. I had probably fallen asleep as well. Following Geir might not be such a bad idea. He headed for the main entrance and opened the door to a narrow passageway before helping me into the outside porch. The kiosk, which was on the left at the bottom of a small flight of stairs, and which couldn’t be more than twenty-five square metres in area, was packed with people who didn’t really know what they wanted. The scenario struck me as a confused symbol of western culture: we had all looked death in the eye, and immediately sought consolation in the quest for something to buy. Pollyanna was sitting at the till, smiling broadly. She was, as far as I could see, the only person who had a reason to be in a good mood. In general the atmosphere was subdued, anxious and oppressive, just as it was among those who had settled down in the lobby when it became clear that the damage to the wall could be repaired.

Adrian and Veronica were looking at sunglasses on a stand. It was obvious the boy had been crying, and when he raised his head and caught sight of me, he instantly grabbed a pair of dark glasses and put them on. Roar Hanson was standing right next to him. He was feeling at a pair of orange Ulvang socks, and didn’t even look up when I tried to say hello.

‘Beyond here,’ said Geir, banging the outside door with his fist, ‘we’re just going to let the snow block the door. Even Johan says it’s not worth wasting energy trying to keep it clear. It would just be too much. Since strictly speaking he’s the only one who can stay outside for any length of time, we’re not going to bother.’

‘Fire,’ I said.

‘Fire?’

‘What do we do if there’s a fire?’

‘Jump out of one of the upstairs windows. Tear down the insulation we’ve put up where the carriage was. Something like that. But there isn’t going to be a fire. There has to be a limit to what we’re expected to suffer…’

He smiled faintly.

‘Have you worked out,’ I said when he had helped me get my chair over the threshold into the lobby without being asked, ‘how many of us there are in here now?’

‘Fewer and fewer all the time,’ said Geir with forced cheerfulness as he pushed me further into the room. ‘When the carriage fell there were seventy-nine people in the wing. We were 196 in total in the entire complex…’

‘194,’ I corrected him. ‘You have to take out Elias Grav and Cato Hammer.’

‘Exactly. And you have to add four joiners. One of them is over in the wing. The other three are here. So that makes…’

‘118,’ I said. ‘There are 118 people left in the hotel.’

Kari Thue had gathered a little court around her at one end of the table. The conversation stopped abruptly as Geir and I got closer. At that precise moment I wished she had got her way. I wished she had taken her subjects to the wing and stayed there.

Twenty-four hours ago, there were 269 people on board a train. Then we became 196. When two men died, we were 194. Now there were only 118 of us left.

I thought about Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None.

I immediately tried to dismiss the thought.

And Then There Were None is a story that doesn’t exactly have a happy ending.

‘I expect it’s the shock,’ said Magnus contentedly, shovelling down a large piece of salmon, ‘that’s made you start bleeding again. Perhaps you’ve bumped into something. At any rate…’ he raised his knife like an exclamation mark above his plate, ‘there’s nothing to worry about! You’ll be absolutely fine!’

It was eight thirty in the evening and I felt anything but fine. I was so tired I was finding it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the food. My own body odour had begun to bother me. The only consolation was that everybody else smelled just as bad. Which was more reprehensible on their part; they had access to showers and hot water. On the other hand, we had all had other things on our minds apart from personal hygiene.