Thomas Enger: Pierced

Down in the grave a foot sticks out through the soil. While Brogeland pins down Gunhild Dokken, Emil Hagen jumps in, landing softly next to the foot and quickly removes the earth covering Henning Juul’s face. Brogeland leaves Dokken to his officers‚ but resists the urge to leap into the grave as well because the space is limited. He sees Hagen find Juul’s mouth and nose, and soon the rain helps wash the soil off his face. Hagen places two fingers on Juul’s neck.

‘There is no pulse,’ Hagen calls out.

‘Call an ambulance,’ Brogeland shouts.

A voice next to him replies that it is already on its way. Four, five minutes, Brogeland estimates and it will be there. He can see that Juul has sustained a heavy blow to the side of his head, probably with the spade, but with the flat side, not the edge. If that had been the case Hagen’s resuscitation attempts would very likely have been in vain. Hagen takes a deep, controlled breath before he gets to work starting with thirty heart compressions, then he blows into Henning’s nose and mouth twice. He repeats this routine several times, but there is no sign of life. They hear the sound of sirens. Hagen carries on with his desperate attempt to revive Henning Juul, who continues to lie there with his eyes closed and an almost serene expression on his face as the rain pelts him.

The sound of a roaring engine comes closer and stops nearby. Shouts and orders ensue, then the hole in the ground is filled with another man who takes over the resuscitation. Hagen is asked to leave to make room for more people in red-and-green fluorescent uniforms and he does as he is told. He jumps, gets hold of the edge and pulls himself quickly out of the grave. Still panting, Hagen joins Brogeland, and together they watch the backs of the ambulance crew. Behind them a stretcher is being prepared. Brogeland takes a step to the side and bumps into Nora, who is gnawing her fingers without blinking.

Then something happens in the grave. One of the uniformed men calls out, and Henning is hoisted up. He is coughing, first deep in his throat then higher up in his mouth. His face contorts. Someone puts their hand on his back to support him, and he sits up, leans forwards while saliva and damp soil dribble from his mouth. At the edge of the grave Nora cries out and covers her mouth with her hands. Then she closes her eyes.

Five days later

Trees and plants singed by a late summer without rain have regained some of their original colour. Henning Juul stops outside Ulleval Hospital. A few days ago he was a patient there. The doctors refused to discharge him until they were sure there were no complications. X-rays showed that he had fractured his skull, but there were no signs of blood clots.

He would clearly have died under the soil in his unconscious state if Emil Hagen and the ambulance crew hadn’t arrived in time to save him. Henning has since learned that they would never have got there so quickly if it hadn’t been for Nora and Brogeland. Exactly how he feels about that is something he hasn’t dared to address yet. There has been a lot going on. He spent one night in hospital and has been at the police station for several interviews after being discharged. He has also filed a number of stories despite the doctors telling him to take it easy for a while.

Henning walks into Iver Gundersen’s room and finds his colleague sitting up in bed. His hands are clamped around his mobile, and he appears to be using it as a steering wheel. The sound of screeching tyres and potentially fatal collisions cease the moment he spots Henning.

‘Hi,’ Iver calls out happily and chucks the mobile aside. ‘The man of the hour, back from the dead, if I’m not mistaken?’

Henning smiles. The bandages around Iver’s head are gone‚ but his face is swollen and still the colour of the Swedish flag in places. His movements, however, are quicker and more alert.

‘How are you?’ Henning asks as he takes a seat.

‘I think I should be asking you that question.’

‘I’m all right,’ Henning says. ‘My head hurts a bit, that’s all, but I’m fine.’

‘I’m not, far from it,’ Iver replies. ‘Lying here is driving me up the wall. I’m not used to it, you know. I spend most of my time racing cars.’

Henning nods and smiles.

‘Go on then. Tell me all about it. I was hoping you would show up yesterday or the day before, so what has kept you?’

‘I’ve been a bit busy lately.’

‘Yes, so I’ve noticed,’ Iver says and holds up his mobile. ‘I bet the Eagle is thrilled. I bet she doesn’t nag you about scoops any more, does she?’

Henning smiles again. ‘No, she has mellowed in the past few days. She says hello, by the way.’

‘Hm. Right then, come on. I’m going mad in here!’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Everything!’

Henning laughs.

‘I’ve read about Dokken’s key to Petter Holte’s flat and the clock at the gym, but I haven’t seen anything about how she killed Jocke Brolenius. I’m really curious to know that. I mean, a girl versus a tough enforcer — it’s an unlikely match no matter how angry she was.’

Henning makes himself comfortable in the chair. ‘Gunhild Dokken went to the factory before Jocke and Tore. She went inside the building but left the door open so that Jocke would think that Pulli had already arrived. He was famous for his punctuality. And Jocke swallowed the bait. Dokken was waiting for him behind a pillar. As he walked past her, she attacked him quick as lightning, hitting him with the axe on the side of his neck, here, roughly,’ Henning says, demonstrating on himself. ‘The first whack nearly took his head off. The rest was easy. She hit him thirteen times in total. Back, shoulders, arms and another blow to the neck.’

‘Good God,’ Iver says. ‘That’s a lot of anger. And afterwards she broke his jaw?’

‘Yes. But she needed something more to link Pulli to the killing, and this is where the knuckle-duster comes in.’

‘I still don’t get it. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just shoot Jocke like she did with Robert van whatshisname?’

‘It might have been safer, yes. Dokken has, as far as I know, not said anything about her choice of weapon yet, but I’ve a theory about that. Have you heard about Forsete, the Norse god?’

‘No, but I prefer two-seaters, anyway. Much cooler.’

They both laugh.

‘Through his father, Vidar Fjell had developed a passion for Norse mythology, a world he probably introduced Dokken to during the years they knew each other. Remember, she designed Asgard’s decor where everyone is having Norse sex all over the place. Dokken’s plan was to avenge the murder of Vidar Fjell — she wanted justice for him. Forsete was the god of justice in Norse mythology. And he had an axe.’

‘What about the knuckle-duster? How did she get hold of that?’

Henning scratches his forehead. ‘When Tore Pulli quit debt-collecting, he hung the knuckle-duster on the wall of his study at home as a symbolic gesture. I believe he made a big deal of it, and it was something that everyone who knew Tore would know about. One night when the Fighting Fit gang was back at Pulli’s discussing what to do about Jocke Brolenius, Dokken stole it. She used to live on the streets and had nicked plenty of things in her lifetime.’

Iver nods. He is impressed. They sit for a while in silence.

‘However,’ Henning says, and gets up. ‘I haven’t come all this way just to make small talk to an invalid like you.’

‘No, I didn’t think so.’

‘I have a question for you. From Petter Holte.’

A week after Gunhild Dokken’s arrest, Henning meets Veronica Nansen outside Sognsvann Station. She gives him a long, warm embrace.