Jo Nesbo - The Devil's star

‘It’s going to be really great.’

He hadn’t even heard Tom approach.

‘We’ll see.’

Harry pulled on his cigarette. He wasn’t sure what he had responded to.

‘You’ll like it,’ Waaler said. ‘It’s just a question of getting used to it.’

Harry could see the catfish lying in front of him in the mud after the last water had gone, their tails beating, their mouths wide open as they tried to get used to breathing air.

‘But I need an answer, Harry. I have to know if you’re in or out.’

Drowning in air. The death of the catfish was perhaps no worse than the death of anything else. Death by drowning was supposed to be relatively pleasant.

‘Beate rang,’ Harry said. ‘She’s checked the fingerprints from the TV shop.’

‘Oh?’

‘Just partial prints. And the owner doesn’t remember a thing.’

‘Shame. Aune says that they get good results from hypnosis with forgetful witnesses in Sweden. Perhaps we should try that.’

‘Sure.’

‘And there was an interesting bit of information from Forensics this afternoon. About Camilla Loen.’

‘Mm?’

‘Turns out she was pregnant. Second month. But no-one we’ve talked to in her circle had a clue about who the father could have been. I don’t suppose it has much to do with her death, but it would be interesting to know.’

‘Mm.’

They stood in silence. Waaler went over to the railing and leaned over the edge.

‘I know that you don’t like me, Harry. And I’m not asking you to begin liking me over night.’

He paused.

‘But if we’re going to work together we have to begin somewhere, be a little more open with each other perhaps.’

‘Open?’

‘Yes. Does that sound dodgy?’

‘A bit.’

Tom Waaler smiled. ‘Agreed, but you can start. Ask me anything you’d like to know about me.’

‘Know?’

‘Yes. Anything at all.’

‘Was it you who shot…?’ Harry stopped. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I want to know what it is that makes you tick.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What it is that makes you get up in the morning and do what you do. What you’re after and why.’

‘I understand.’

Tom thought it over. For quite a while. Then he pointed at the cranes.

‘Do you see those? My great-grandfather emigrated from Scotland with six Sutherland sheep and a letter from the bricklayers’ guild in Aberdeen. He helped to build the houses you can see along the Akerselva and to the east along the railway line. Later his sons followed in his footsteps, and their sons too, right down to my father. My grandfather took a Norwegian surname, but when we moved to the west of Oslo, my father changed it back. Waaler. Wall. There was a little pride involved, but he also thought that Andersen was too common a name for a future judge.’

Harry watched Waaler. He tried to locate the scar on his chin.

‘You were training to become a judge then?’

‘That was the plan when I started law. And I would probably have continued if it hadn’t been for what happened.’

‘What was that?’

Waaler shrugged his shoulders.

‘My father died in an accident at work. It’s strange, but when your father has gone you suddenly discover that the choices you have made were as much for him as for yourself. I was immediately aware that I had nothing in common with the other law students. I suppose I was a kind of naive idealist. I thought it was all about raising the banner for justice and driving the modern democratic state forward. However, I discovered that for most people it was about getting a title and a job and creaming enough to be able to impress the girl next door in Ullern. Well, you did law yourself…’

Harry nodded.

‘Perhaps it’s in the genes,’ Waaler said. ‘At any rate, I’ve always liked building things. Big things. Right from when I was small. I built huge palaces with Lego bricks, much bigger than the things all the other kids built. On the law course I realised I was wired differently from all these tiny-minded people with their tiny-minded thoughts. Two months after my father’s funeral I applied to go to Police College.’

‘Mm. And left as top cadet, according to the rumours.’

‘Second.’

‘And here at Police HQ you had to build your palace?’

‘I didn’t have to. There’s no had to, Harry. When I was small I took Lego bricks off the other children to make my buildings large enough. It’s a question of what you want. Do you want a small, poky house for people with small, poky lives or do you want to have opera houses and cathedrals, majestic buildings that point the way towards something greater than you yourself, something you can strive for.’

Waaler ran his hand along the steel railing.

‘Building cathedrals is a calling, Harry. In Italy they gave masons who died during the construction of a church the status of a martyr. Even though cathedral builders built for humanity there isn’t a single cathedral in human history that was not founded on human bones and human blood. My grandfather used to say that. And that’s the way it will always be. The blood of my family has been used as the mortar of many of the buildings you can see from here. I simply want more justice. For everyone. And I’ll use the building materials that are necessary.’

Harry studied the glow of his cigarette.

‘And I’m a building material?’

Waaler smiled.

‘That’s one way of putting it. But the answer is yes. If you want it. I have alternatives…’

He didn’t complete the sentence, but Harry knew how it ended: ‘… but you don’t.’

Harry took a long drag on his cigarette and asked in a low voice: ‘What if I agree to come on board?’

Waaler raised an eyebrow and fixed Harry with an intent look before answering.

‘You’ll receive your first assignment, which you will carry out on your own and without asking any questions. Everyone before you has done this. As a mark of loyalty.’

‘And it is?’

‘You’ll find that out in good time. But it means burning bridges.’

‘Does it mean breaking Norwegian law?’

‘Probably.’

‘Aha,’ Harry said. ‘So that you’ve got something on me, so that I won’t be tempted to rat on you.’

‘I would perhaps have expressed that in a different way, but you’ve got the idea.’

‘What are we talking about here? Smuggling?’

‘I can’t tell you that yet.’

‘How can you be sure that I’m not a mole from POT or SEFO?’

Waaler leaned further over the railing and pointed down.

‘Do you see her, Harry?’

Harry went to the edge and peered down at the park. People were still lying on the green grass catching the last rays of the sun.

‘Her in the yellow bikini,’ Waaler said. ‘Nice colour for a bikini, isn’t it.’

Harry’s stomach churned, and he stood up straight again.

‘We’re not stupid,’ Waaler said, without taking his eyes off the lawn. ‘We follow the ones we want to join us. She wears well. Smart and independent, from what I can see. But of course she wants what all women want in her position. A man who can provide for her. It’s pure biology. And you don’t have a lot of time. Women like her are not on their own for long.’

Harry’s cigarette fell over the edge. It left behind a stream of sparks.

‘There was a warning about forest fires for all Ostland yesterday,’ Waaler said.

Harry didn’t answer. He just shuddered when he felt Waaler’s hand on his shoulder.

‘Strictly speaking, the deadline has already passed, Harry. But to show how kind we are, I’ll give you two more days. If I don’t hear anything in that time, the offer is rescinded.’

Harry swallowed hard and tried to get out the one word, but his tongue refused to obey and his salivary glands felt like the dry river beds in Africa.