Thomas Enger: Scarred

‘I haven’t read everything yet,’ Trine says. ‘But in its lead story, VG refers to sources its reporter has spoken to. Can you really publish any allegation as long as two sources are prepared to back it up? No matter what the subject matter is?’

Trine looks around the table for an answer.

‘Are you saying the story isn’t true?’

Trine looks daggers at the Permanent Secretary’s raven black hair.

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

Trine had been asked to say a few words at Hilde Bye’s recent fiftieth birthday party. She had sweated over her keyboard trying to think of something nice because it was so much easier to mention all the things Hilde Bye wasn’t. Not especially friendly, not especially talented – jobwise or with people. Too enamoured with being in charge.

‘But if that’s the case,’ says Truls Ove Henriksen, ‘then that’s what you say. That the allegations are false.’

‘If that’s the case’ , Trine snarls to herself and glares at the bald man. She knows what he is really thinking, this wet rag of a political adviser who was foisted on her when she was made a Minister three years ago. She had been so overcome by her unexpected appointment that she had agreed to everything her party wanted. Such as having a political adviser, a man she didn’t know very well, but who was part of the political horse-trading after the election – because he had previously been the secretary of the Labour Party’s branch in Trom.

‘I’m not going to dignify this tabloid tosh by commenting on it,’ she says, jabbing her finger on the file again.

‘But you’re going to have to,’ Katarina Hatlem argues. ‘The media won’t stop clamouring until they get something and you won’t be able to go anywhere or do anything without this becoming the story.’

‘I’ll talk to the Prime Minister’s office and get them to drop you from question time on Wednesday,’ Ullevik says.

‘That’s probably wise,’ Hatlem says and nods. ‘I also think we should issue a press release as soon as possible—’

‘No,’ Trine interrupts her and clenches her fists so hard her knuckles go white.

‘No to what?’

‘We’re not going to issue a press release. If I have to refute these allegations, then they’ve already won. I’m being accused of something I haven’t done, and I can’t respond without knowing the source. Nor has the matter been reported to the police.’

‘Not yet.’

‘What are you saying?’ says Trine, glowering at her political adviser.

‘I’m just saying that could happen before we know it. There’ll certainly be a public demand for it.’

Trine snorts.

‘This is bullshit,’ she shouts. ‘I’ve no idea where it’s coming from. But I can promise you, I’m going to find out.’

Harald Ullevik clears his throat.

‘Let’s take this one step at a time,’ he says, calmly. ‘This incident is supposed to have taken place at last year’s party conference in Kristiansand. Everyone who has ever attended a party conference knows that things go on there, all sorts of things.’

‘Are you saying that—’

‘No, no, Trine, I’m not saying anything, but I know what people will think. That’s why I’m asking you: what do you remember from that day?’

Trine exhales hard through her mouth while she thinks back. She has been to so many party conferences that they all blur together.

‘Not very much. But I know what I didn’t do.’

Silence falls around the table. Her Permanent Secretary sips her coffee while she glances furtively at Henriksen across the table. She has doubts , Trine thinks. That woman doesn’t believe me .

‘Okay, I have a suggestion,’ Katarina Hatlem says. ‘Even though this story is very much about you, we won’t involve you at this stage. We’ll deal with each press request in turn and repeat the same message: that you refuse to respond to anonymous allegations, you’re not going to waste your time on this, and blah blah blah. If that doesn’t take the sting out of what’s coming towards you, we’ll select one or two journalists we know are sympathetic towards us and give them a little more.’

‘There is nothing more,’ Trine insists. ‘ I didn’t do it.’

‘No, no, but we can say something about your work in recent years specifically to crack down on sexual assaults and domestic violence. We can probably produce some statistics to prove our commitment to these particular issues.’

Trine nods, so far so good.

‘If the allegations remain vague, I don’t think it’ll do us any harm to take the moral high ground,’ Hatlem continues.

‘ VG refers to a “young, male politician”,’ Truls Ove Henriksen says. ‘Could the alleged victim have been someone from the Party’s youth branch?’

Trine shrugs her shoulders.

‘I assume most people would think so, yes. But I’ve no idea how VG got its story. I’ve been married to Pål Fredrik for four years and I’ve never been unfaithful to him. I haven’t even been tempted.’

Henriksen makes no reply. His shiny head is now sprinkled with beads of sweat.

‘But at some point you may have to provide an explanation,’ Ullevik says.

‘We won’t say anything about that now,’ Hatlem maintains. ‘We don’t want to create expectations that Trine will make a statement.’

‘No, no, of course not,’ Ullevik says. ‘I’m just saying that you need to review your movements that day very carefully. Who did you sit next to during dinner? Who did you speak to? When did you go to bed? Can anyone give you an alibi – things like that. The more details you can provide about what you actually did on 9 October last year, the better. And if you do say something, you must be absolutely sure that it’s true. If you make even one little mistake, the press will question everything else you’ve said and done.’

Trine makes no reply, she just closes her eyes and disappears into a world of her own. Then she opens her eyes.

‘What did you just say?’

‘Hm?’

‘Did you say 9 October?’

‘Yes?’

And she suddenly feels hot. Terribly hot. That’s not possible , she thinks. It’s just not possible that anyone would ever find out about that .

‘What is it?’ Katarina Hatlem says. ‘You’ve gone white.’

Trine continues to stare into space while her jaw drops. This is a trap , she thinks to herself.

I’ve been set up .

Henning takes a quick shower, eats some baked beans straight out of a tin and makes his way to Grønland where the offices of 123news are based. It’s a grey morning. It’s yet another day when the city tries its hardest to seem even less attractive than it does in the winter.

While he walks he thinks about his sister and the media witch hunt she will be subjected to in the coming days. Working on any other news item is almost pointless. The front pages of every newspaper will be plastered with stories about Trine for the foreseeable future.

Even so.

The police are giving a press conference at 10 a.m., an event Henning under normal circumstances would have ignored except that Assistant Commissioner Pia Nøkleby is likely to be leading it. Henning has a bone to pick with her.

The sight that greets him as he steps on to the grey carpets in the 123news offices reminds him of an anthill. People are scurrying back and forth, they are practically running. Henning can see it in their eyes, expressions verging on panic. Stressed fingers flying across the keyboards. It’s the same, it’s the usual. And he knows why, of course.

National news editor Heidi Kjus spots him in the commotion and walks up to him, addressing him in a bossy, metallic voice that always makes him think of dog training. Heidi is wearing a short, dark blue skirt with a matching jacket. If she hadn’t been a journalist, if she hadn’t been middle management, she would have looked at home in a solicitor’s office.