Jo Nesbo - The Thirst

Bjørn nodded towards Rakel. ‘You’re not worried she might get lung cancer?’

‘Rakel loves passive smoking. She says she likes both the fact that it’s free, and that my body has already absorbed most of the toxins before I blow the smoke out again. I act as a combination of wallet and cigarette filter for her.’

Bjørn took a drag. ‘Your voicemail’s switched off, so I figured you were here.’

‘Hm. For a forensics expert you’ve always been pretty good at deduction.’

‘Thanks. How’s it going?’

‘They’re talking about bringing her out of the coma. I’m choosing to see that as good news. Something urgent?’

‘No one we’ve spoken to from the bathhouse recognised Valentin from the photofit picture. The guy behind the desk said there were loads of people coming and going the whole time, but that he thought our man could be someone who usually shows up in a coat covering his bathrobe, with a cap pulled low, and that he always pays cash.’

‘So the payment doesn’t leave any electronic record. Bathrobe on underneath, so there’s no risk of anyone seeing the tattoo when he gets changed. How does he get from his home to the baths?’

‘If he has a car, he must have had the car keys in the pocket of his bathrobe. Or bus money. Because there was absolutely nothing on the clothes we found in the changing room, not even fluff in the pockets. We can probably find some DNA on them, but they smelt of detergent. I reckon even his coat had been recently washed in a machine.’

‘That fits with the obsessive cleanliness at the crime scenes. The fact that he takes his keys and money into a steam sauna suggests he’s ready for a quick escape.’

‘Yes. No witnesses who saw a man in a bathrobe on the streets of Sagene either, so he can’t have caught the bus this time, at least.’

‘He had his car parked near the back door. It’s no accident that he’s managed to stay hidden for four years, he’s smart.’ Harry rubbed the back of his neck. ‘OK. We chased him away. What now?’

‘We’re checking the security cameras in shops and petrol stations near the baths, looking for caps and maybe a bathrobe sticking out beneath a coat. By the way, I’m going to cut the coat open first thing tomorrow. There’s a tiny hole in the lining of one pocket, and it’s possible that something could have slipped in and got lost among the padding.’

‘He’s avoiding security cameras.’

‘You think?’

‘Yes. If we do see him, it will be because he wants to be seen.’

‘You’re probably right.’ Bjørn Holm unbuttoned his parka. His pale forehead was damp with sweat.

Harry blew cigarette smoke towards Rakel. ‘What is it, Bjørn?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You didn’t have to come up here to give me that report.’

Bjørn didn’t answer. Harry waited. The machine bleeped and bleeped.

‘It’s Katrine,’ Bjørn said. ‘I don’t understand. I saw from my call list that she tried to ring me last night, but when I called back she said her phone must have dialled me by accident.’

‘And?’

‘At three o’clock in the morning? She doesn’t sleep on top of her phone.’

‘So why didn’t you ask her?’

‘Because I didn’t want to nag. She needs time. Space. She’s a bit like you.’ Bjørn took the cigarette from Harry.

‘Me?’

‘A loner.’

Harry snatched the cigarette back just as Bjørn was about to take a drag.

‘You are ,’ Bjørn protested.

‘What do you want?’

‘It’s driving me mad, going round not knowing anything. So I was wondering …’ Bjørn scratched his beard hard. ‘You and Katrine are close. Could you …?’

‘Check the lie of the land?’

‘Something like that. I’ve got to get her back, Harry.’

Harry stubbed the cigarette out on the leg of the chair. Looked at Rakel. ‘Sure. I’ll talk to Katrine.’

‘But without her …’

‘… knowing it’s come from you.’

‘Thanks,’ Bjørn said. ‘You’re a good friend, Harry.’

‘Me?’ Harry put the butt back in the cigarette packet. ‘I’m a loner.’

When Bjørn had gone Harry closed his eyes. Listened to the machine. The countdown.

TUESDAY EVENING

HIS NAME WAS Olsen, and he ran Olsen’s, but the place had been called that when he took it over twenty years ago. Some people thought it was an unlikely coincidence, but how unlikely is it when unlikely things happen all the time, every day, every single second? Because someone has to win the lottery, that much is obvious. Even so, the person who wins it not only thinks that it’s unlikely, but that it’s a miracle. For this reason, Olsen didn’t believe in miracles. But this was a borderline case. Ulla Swart had just come in and sat down at Truls Berntsen’s table, where he had already been sitting for twenty minutes. The miracle was that it was an arranged meeting. Because Olsen was in no doubt that it was an arranged meeting, he had spent over twenty years standing here watching nervous men unable to stand still, or sitting drumming their fingers, waiting for the girl of their dreams. The miracle was that when she was young Ulla Swart had been the most beautiful girl in the whole of Manglerud, and Truls Berntsen the biggest pile of shit and loser in the gang that hung out in Manglerud shopping centre and went to Olsen’s. Truls, or Beavis, had been Mikael Bellman’s shadow, and Mikael hadn’t been top of the popularity lists either. But he had at least had his appearance and way with words on his side, and had managed to get the girl the hockey boys and bikers alike all drooled over. And then he went and became Chief of Police, so Mikael must have had something. Truls Berntsen, on the other hand: once a loser, always a loser.

Olsen went over to the table to take their order and try to hear what they were saying during this unlikely meeting.

‘I got here a bit early,’ Truls said, nodding towards the almost empty glass of beer in front of him.

‘I’m late,’ Ulla said, pulling her handbag over her head and unbuttoning her coat. ‘I almost didn’t get away.’

‘Oh?’ Truls took a small, quick sip of beer to hide how shaky he was.

‘Yes, it … it’s not easy, this, Truls.’ She smiled briefly. Noticed Olsen, who had sailed up behind her without a sound.

‘I’ll wait a while,’ she said, and he vanished.

Wait? Truls thought. Was she going to see how it went? Leave if she changed her mind? If he didn’t live up to expectations? And what expectations were they, given that they had practically grown up together?

Ulla looked round. ‘God, the last time I was here was at that school reunion ten years ago, do you remember?’

‘No,’ Truls said. ‘I didn’t come.’

She picked at the sleeves of her sweater.

‘That case you’re working on now is terrible. Shame you didn’t catch him today. Mikael told me what happened.’

‘Yeah,’ Truls said. Mikael. So the first thing she did was bring him up, and hold him in front of her like a shield. Was she just nervous, or did she not know what she wanted? ‘What did he say about it?’

‘That Harry Hole had used that bartender who saw the killer before the first murder. Mikael was very angry.’

‘The bartender at the Jealousy Bar?’

‘I think so.’

‘Used him to do what?’

‘To sit in that Turkish bathhouse and keep an eye out for the murderer. Didn’t you know?’

‘I’ve been working with … some other murder cases today.’

‘Oh. Well, it’s nice to see you. I can’t stay long, but—’

‘Long enough for me to get another beer?’

He saw her hesitate. Damn.

‘Is it the children?’ he asked.