Anne Holt - 1222

One of us should definitely have said something.

‘So I expect we will soon be a phenomenon for the history books. Not a threat. Our friends over there, on the other hand…’

He nodded towards the woman in the headscarf and her travelling companion. They were the only ones who had managed to keep a table for four all to themselves. They ate their food as it was placed in front of them, without a word to each other or to the waitress.

‘A really lovely couple,’ said Magnus Streng with a smile. ‘They look normal in every way. A little extra skin pigment, different headgear and a different name for God are the only things that distinguish them from us. When it comes down to it. But it’s enough. And why?’

Nobody answered this time either.

‘Because there are a lot of them. Because there are more and more of them around us all the time. Fear, ladies and gentlemen, is often a question of quantity. Just as none of us is afraid of one buzzing bee, but we all panic when the swarm arrives.’

‘Well, a swarm is obviously more dangerous than just one bee,’ mumbled Geir.

‘Not necessarily!’

Magnus Streng leaned forward.

‘Ask a beekeeper! Go to the expert! Ask a beekeeper!’

I had some difficulty in seeing the similarity between a bee and a Muslim, and topped up my glass of water.

‘What is worse,’ Magnus Streng continued eagerly, ‘is that once we have been frightened by the swarm, we regard every bee that comes along with suspicion. And once we are afraid of bees, it’s only a small step until we are afraid of every buzzing, flying creature among our fauna. That, my friends, is what is known as collectivism. Dangerous stuff. Kari Thue over there, now I should think she’s a woman who’s been stung a few times. Kari Thue is a frightened woman.’

He looked at her with something approaching sympathy.

‘I have to talk to you!’

I almost jumped. The businessman whose name I couldn’t remember was leaning over Johan. The man was still clutching his laptop; I was beginning to wonder if he took it to bed with him. His medium-length hair was blond and thick with expensive streaks, something that would probably have looked quite good if he hadn’t been too old for such vanity, and overweight into the bargain. The combination of smooth skin, a noticeable double chin and a youthful haircut made him appear soft, almost feminine. And if his intention was that other people shouldn’t hear what he was saying, then he failed badly. He was whispering so loudly that he could be heard from several tables away.

‘Talk away,’ said Johan without looking up from his meal.

‘Not here. I really do have to talk to you.’

‘In that case you’ll have to wait. I’m eating.’

‘It’s important. Come with me.’

He was no longer whispering. Instead there was an ambiguously threatening note in his voice. He straightened his back and assumed an expression that I imagine could be effective in some board meeting. Here it just looked comical.

‘I’d like to make you an offer,’ he said. ‘A particularly lucrative offer.’

Johan grinned and put down his spoon.

‘I see. And what is this offer?’

‘Not here. Let’s go to -’

‘As you can see, I’m sitting here having my dinner.’

‘You’ve finished. Come with me.’

‘No. I’m going to have another cup of coffee. Besides which, I’ve just decided. I don’t want to talk to you. Not now and not later. I’m actually quite happy sitting here. Go away.’

‘A million,’ said the man. ‘You could earn a million kroner.’

Johan started to laugh. He wiped his mouth and looked up at the businessman.

‘Now that’s what I call an offer,’ he said, getting slowly to his feet. ‘An offer worth considering. Thank you for dinner. And for the company.’

He nodded briefly to each of us before holding his hand out to Magnus Streng. The doctor looked surprised as he extended his own large, chubby hand.

‘I’ll speak to you later,’ said Johan, before turning on his heel and following the man with the laptop.

‘Steinar Aass,’ said Magnus Streng, pulling a face when the pair had just about reached the lobby. ‘Not exactly a man to do business with.’

The pieces fell into place as soon as he mentioned the name. Steinar Aass was what the newspapers liked to call a financial acrobat. The man had been sued a dozen times for overstepping every mark you can think of when it came to financial regulations, but the cases never got as far as court. This could of course be due to the fact that he was a persecuted, but entirely law-abiding citizen. Another explanation could be the notorious undermanning and lack of resources in the economic crimes unit. Dagens Næringsliv, on the other hand, had almost, but not quite, managed to nail Steinar Aass in a seven-page article last summer. They had followed a trail of money from a criminal gang in Norway to enormous investments in land in Brazil. Along the beautiful Atlantic coast this money completed a rotation or two with the help of Steinar Aass and three of his friends from Akers Brygge, before it was miraculously removed from the washing machine as legitimate capital.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Geir, stretching his neck. ‘You’re right! It is him!’

The waitress moved around the table pouring coffee. I felt the caffeine hit home. My eyelids were no longer so heavy. The pains in my back that had plagued me for several hours were easing. Magnus Streng looked as if he were thinking about something before he placed a hand on the waitress’s arm.

‘I don’t suppose I could have a little drop of cognac, miss? Last night I had a really good Otard, which would definitely do the trick.’

She smiled and nodded.

Now that we had got used to his eccentricity, we were all smiling at Magnus Streng. Even Mikkel’s gang had given up on the uncertain sneering grins with which they had previously received the little man. Only Kari Thue had maintained her forbidding expression whoever she was looking at. With the exception of Mikkel, of course. I suddenly discovered that she was no longer making a point of ignoring us. On the contrary, she had actually started glancing over at our table. I couldn’t really work out which of us she was most interested in. But she definitely wasn’t smiling.

‘My colleagues over there,’ said Magnus, interrupting my train of thought. He nodded over towards the table where all the other doctors were sitting. ‘They have been unusually pleasant, I have to say.’

I didn’t think there was enough evidence to support the idea that the other seven doctors were pleasant. Whenever they had left their rooms, they had more or less stuck together, or sat alone buried in a book. Two of them had laptops, and had used their time on the mountain to make preparations for a conference that had started long ago, as far as I knew. Once they had taken care of all the cuts and injuries that first evening, they had more or less removed themselves from our little community at Finse 1222. And I had hardly seen them exchange two words with Magnus Streng.

‘They’ve left the entire arena to me,’ he said gently. ‘Something for which I will be eternally grateful. Oh look, here comes our friend. Already!’

‘Three million,’ said Johan with a broad grin, sitting down again.

‘That was quick,’ said Geir. ‘You got three million ?’

‘No. Obviously I don’t want to do business with his sort. I was just curious.’

He looked at the glass of cognac that was just being placed in front of Dr Streng. The waitress looked at him enquiringly and he nodded.

‘I wanted to know which of my services could possibly be worth so much money. When he told me what he wanted, I managed to get him to treble the price before I started laughing.’