Anne Holt - 1222

‘And what was it he wanted?’ asked Magnus Streng, his nose buried in the brandy balloon. ‘Transport, I assume?’

Johan stared at him.

‘Yes. If I drove him to the nearest town with a road link to Oslo, I would get three million kroner. He has to be in Brazil before Saturday, he reckons, because his youngest daughter is seriously ill. Apparently. When I refused, all of his kids were suddenly desperately ill. That didn’t help much either. I assume we’re talking about sick money rather than sick kids here…’

Although I was following the conversation, I was also trying to keep an eye on the couple that I was no longer sure were a couple. They had started talking to each other. They were leaning forward, looking agitated and seemingly disagreeing about something.

‘Three million,’ said Berit, savouring the words. ‘Would it have been legal? I mean, could you have accepted that amount of money?’

Everybody except me looked at Magnus Streng. He was gradually acquiring the status of an omniscient being, a reference work who knew something about most things. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to the fact that Geir Rugholmen was a lawyer.

‘Well,’ said Magnus, smacking his lips. ‘We do have freedom of agreement in this country. If the man paid entirely of his own free will, then that would probably be absolutely fine. However, if you had to demand the money, then I think the question is whether that would offend against common decency. Like in a poker game, or some other wager. But you said no?’

‘Of course.’

‘But could you have done it? Would it have been possible for you to get to Haugastøl in this weather?’

Johan shrugged his shoulders.

‘I could probably do it if the snowmobile held. And there’s no guarantee that it would. I’ve never gone on a long journey in such extreme cold. It’s a completely unnecessary risk. I never take unnecessary risks. Besides which…’

Everyone around the table was following the conversation between Johan and Magnus with interest. I was trying to listen to what was going on between the two foreigners at the same time. The odd word reached my ears, but I didn’t recognize the language. I know enough Turkish to be able to identify it at least. Nor was it Arabic. Nefis has already started teaching Ida this third language so that later in life she will be able to relate to the Koran without troublesome interference, as she occasionally says with an ironic smile.

‘Besides which Steinar Aass wouldn’t have lasted five minutes,’ Johan went on. T would have arrived in Haugastøl with a dead man.’

The thought seemed to amuse him. He took the glass of cognac and sipped at the contents. He was still smiling broadly, as if he had just taken somebody in completely.

‘Excuse me…’

The Kurd, or perhaps I should say the man I had thought was a Kurd up to now, had got to his feet. He approached our table hesitantly, looking from Berit to Geir and back again. Then he smiled stiffly at Magnus Streng and Johan. He avoided looking at me altogether. This made me wonder if I was wrong to assume that he didn’t know I had seen him draw his gun.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ he said. ‘But I wondered if my wife and I might put forward a request?’

He spoke such good Norwegian that at first I didn’t understand what he was saying. He had almost no accent; if it hadn’t been for his appearance and old-fashioned clothes, I would immediately have taken him for a Norwegian. It was of course slightly embarrassing that I had failed to notice this earlier, after more than twenty-four hours in the same hotel.

‘Of course,’ said Berit. ‘How can I help?’

‘We would really like…’

He stroked his beard and looked over at the woman. She was still sitting at the table. From time to time she glanced up, but only briefly, before casting her eyes down once more in a way that now seemed demonstratively servile, given what I had seen earlier.

‘We would really like to be moved to the apartment wing,’ he said quietly.

‘I see,’ said Berit with a frown. ‘I can…’

Everybody except me looked at Kari Thue.

‘I can understand that,’ Berit said in a friendly tone of voice. ‘But I’m afraid it’s impossible. We’ve allowed all the entrances to become blocked with snow. Besides which I have to say…’ she hesitated and looked at Johan. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, ‘…that it would be indefensible in any case to let anyone go outside in the present circumstances. Yesterday we did open up a passageway between the two entrances, but it’s been blocked by snow again for a long time. So…’

She raised her shoulders apologetically.

‘It’s not possible.’

‘It’s extremely important to us,’ said the man.

‘As I said, I can understand that. But it’s just not possible to – ’

‘But if we make our way across at our own risk? If we could just have a little help to clear the snow around the entrance, then -’

‘I would stop you,’ Johan said calmly. ‘And if it became necessary, I would lock you in. There is nothing to discuss. Nobody is going outside. Nobody. OK?’

The man swallowed. He ran his hand over the thick beard once again. A few seconds passed before he nodded.

‘I understand. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’

‘I can see why they don’t want to be here,’ Berit mumbled once the man had gone back to his table. ‘Hardly any of us can cope with Kari Thue. It must be worst of all for them.’

Everyone around the table murmured in agreement.

But I thought I knew better.

I didn’t think the armed man was afraid of Kari Thue.

I didn’t even think he found it unpleasant to be in the same room as her. On the contrary, Kari Thue’s aggression the previous evening had reinforced the role he wanted to play. There were completely different reasons for the fact that he and the woman in the headscarf wanted to move across to the apartment wing. They wanted to be in the same building as the passengers from the mystery carriage.

I didn’t quite know why, but of course I was beginning to have my suspicions.

Roar Hanson was becoming more and more of a puzzle.

The meal was over, as Magnus Streng had cheerfully declared after a warm and slightly too long thank-you-for-dinner speech. Geir and Berit had once again tried to persuade me to accept a proper bed. Since we were fewer in number than yesterday, I could have a room of my own. I refused.

As soon as dinner was over I allowed myself to be hauled up the three steps into the lobby. I feel like a child in a pram whenever other people take control of my chair. The very last thing I want is to feel like a child. It was bad enough being one. In other words, the idea of someone carrying me up to another floor was unbearable. In the end Berit gave in and suggested they should swap one of the short sofas in the Millibar for a longer one from Blåstuen. That would give me the opportunity to lie down, at least.

I agreed, but had to wait until the lobby was empty before I lay down. Falling asleep in the chair with other people around was one thing. Lying down in full view was something else altogether. As I sat there trying to suppress one yawn after another, I felt like the hostess of an all too successful party that no one wanted to leave. It was very noticeable that the atmosphere had lifted once again. Presumably this had something to do with the fact that the bar had been open. With all this day had brought, I suspected that even the most abstemious of us might have gazed too deeply into the glass. And I certainly didn’t begrudge them that.

‘Could I…’

My eyes snapped open.

There he was again – Roar Hanson.