Jo Nesbo - The Redeemer

'Relax,' Ebbe managed to get in a second before the alarm went off.

'Oh shit,' Ola said. 'There she blows. Check the list and ring the guys on duty.'

'See,' Geir said. 'T2's down too. And T3 just went.'

'Bingo!' shouted Ebba. 'Shall we have a bet on whether T4-'

'Too late. She just blew,' Geir said.

Ola ran his eye over the small-scale map. 'OK,' he sighed. 'Power's gone in lower Sogn, Fagerborg and Bislett.'

'Bet you I know what's happened!' Ebbe said. 'A thousand on cable sleeving.'

Geir screwed up one eye: 'Meter transformer. And five hundred's enough.'

'Cut that out now,' Ola growled. 'Ebbe, ring the fire station. I bet there's a fire up there.'

'Agreed,' Ebbe said. 'Two hundred?'

When the light went out in the hospital room the darkness was so total that Jon's first thought was that he had gone blind. The optic nerve must have been damaged in the collision and the effect was only apparent now. But then he heard shouting from the corridor, made out the outline of the window and realised that the electricity was down.

He heard the chair scrape outside and the door swung open.

'Hello, are you there?' a voice said.

'Yes,' Jon answered at a higher pitch than he had intended.

'I'll just walk around and see what has happened. Don't go anywhere, OK?'

'No, but…'

'Yes?'

'Haven't they got an emergency generator?'

'I think they're for operating theatres and surveillance cameras.'

'I see…'

Jon listened to the policeman's footsteps fading away as he stared at the green illuminated exit sign over the door. The sign reminded him of Ragnhild again. That had also started in the dark. After eating they had gone for a walk in pitch-black Frogner Park and stood in the deserted square by the monolith looking eastwards to the city centre. And he had told her the story about how Gustav Vigeland, the singular artist from Mandal, had made it a condition of his decorating the park with sculptures that the park should be extended so that the monolith would be symmetrical in relation to the surrounding churches, and the main gate directly facing Uranienborg church. When the town council representative had explained that they could not move the park, Vigeland had demanded that the churches should be moved.

She had just looked at him with a serious expression while he was talking, and it had run through his mind that this woman was so strong and intelligent that she frightened him.

'I'm frozen,' she had said, shivering under her coat.

'Perhaps we should go back…' he had started, but then she had placed her hand behind his head and turned her face up to his. She had the most unusual eyes he had ever seen. Light blue, almost turquoise, surrounded by a whiteness that made her wan skin take on colour. And he had done what he always did; he stooped and bent down. Then her tongue was in his mouth, hot and wet, an insistent muscle, a mysterious anaconda that wound its way around his tongue and searched for a grip. He had felt the heat through the thick woollen material of the suit trousers from Fretex when her hand came to rest with impressive accuracy.

'Come on,' she had whispered in his ear, putting one foot on the fence, and he had looked down and caught a glimpse of white skin where the stockings finished before tearing himself away.

'I can't,' he had said.

'Why not?' she had groaned.

'I've made a vow. To God.'

And she had scrutinised him, puzzled at first. Then her eyes had filled with water, and she had begun to cry quietly and rested her head against his chest, saying she never thought she would ever find him again. He had not understood what she meant, but had stroked her hair and that was how it all started. They always met in his flat and always after she had taken the initiative. At first she made a few half-hearted attempts to make him break his chastity vows, but then she seemed to be happy for them to lie next to each other on the bed and just caress and be caressed. Now and then, for reasons he did not understand, she could become desperate and say he must never leave her. They didn't speak much, but he had a feeling that their abstinence bound her closer to him. Their meetings had come to a sudden end when he met Thea. Not so much because he didn't want to meet her, but because Thea had wanted to exchange spare keys with Jon. She had said it was a question of trust, and he hadn't been able to come up with a riposte.

Jon turned in bed and shut his eyes. He wanted to dream now. Dream and forget. If that was possible. Sleep was on its way when he felt a draught in the room. As an instinctive reaction, he opened his eyes and rolled over. In the pale green light from the exit sign he saw the door was closed. He peered into the shadows as he held his breath and listened.

Martine stood in the darkened window of her flat in Sorgenfrigata, which had also been blacked out by the power cut. Nevertheless, she could still make out the car down below. It looked like Rikard's.

Rikard had not tried to kiss her when she got out of the car. He had just looked at her with puppy eyes and said he was going to be the new chief administrator. There had been signals. Positive signals. It would be him. There had been a strange stiffness in his expression when he had asked her if she thought so, too.

She had said he would make a good chief administrator and went to open the door handle while waiting for his touch. But it hadn't come. And then she was out.

Martine sighed, picked up the mobile phone and dialled the number she had been given.

'Speak.' Harry Hole's voice sounded quite different on the phone. Or perhaps it was because he was at home; maybe this was his home voice.

'It's Martine,' she said.

'Hi.' It was impossible to hear if he was pleased or not.

'You asked me to have a think,' she said. 'About whether I could remember anyone ringing or asking about the duty roster. About Jon's shift.'

'Yes?'

'I've had a think.'

'And?'

'No one.'

Long pause.

'Did you ring to tell me that?' His voice was warm and rough. As though he had been asleep.

'Yes. Shouldn't I have done?'

'Yes, yes, of course. Thank you very much for your help.'

'Not at all.'

She closed her eyes and waited until she heard his voice again.

'Did you… get home alright?'

'Mm. There's a power cut here.'

'Here too,' he said. 'It'll be back soon.'

'What if it isn't?'

'What do you mean?'

'Will we be cast into chaos?'

'Do you think about that sort of thing a lot?'

'From time to time. I think civilisation's infrastructure is much more fragile than we like to believe. What do you think?'

He paused for a long time before answering. 'Well, I think all the systems we rely on can short-circuit and hurl us into deepest night, where laws and regulations no longer protect us, where the cold and beasts of prey rule, and everyone has to try to save their own skin.'

'That,' she said, when no more was forthcoming, 'was not very suitable for helping little girls get off to sleep. I think you're a real dystopian, Harry.'

'Of course. I'm a policeman. Goodnight.'

He had put down the receiver before she had a chance to formulate an answer.

Harry crept back under the duvet and gazed at the wall.

The temperature had plummeted in his flat.

Harry thought about the sky outside. About Andalsnes. About his grandfather. And his mother. The funeral. And the prayer she had whispered at night in her gentle, gentle, voice. 'A mighty fortress is our God.' But in the weightless moment before sleeping he thought of Martine and her voice which was still in his head.

The TV in the sitting room came to life with a groan and began to hiss. The light bulb in the corridor came back on and cast light through the open bedroom door and onto Harry's face. But by then he was already asleep.