“What do you mean?”
“You sound …” Harry couldn’t find a word for how he sounded. “You sound a bit sad,” he said.
“Yes. No. It’s not so easy to say. She’s lost all her family and …” The voice trailed off.
“And you?”
“Don’t start.”
“Come on, Jens.”
“It’s just that if I’d ever wanted to pull out of this marriage, it’s absolutely impossible now.”
“Why’s that?”
“My God, I’m the only person she has, Harry. So I know I should be thinking about her and all she’s been through, but instead I’m thinking about myself and what I’m getting myself into. I’m obviously a bad person, but the whole thing frightens me. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“Hell, if only this were just about money … at least that’s something I understand. But these …” He searched for the word.
“Feelings?” Harry suggested.
“Right. It’s such shit.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Anyway, I’ve made up my mind that for once in my life I’m going to do something that’s not just about me. And I want you to be there and kick me up the arse if you detect the slightest sign of resistance. Hilde needs to think about other things, so we’ve already set the date. The fourth of April. Easter in Bangkok—how does that sound? She’s already looking on the brighter side and has half decided to cut down on her drinking. I’ll send you your ticket in the post, Harry. Don’t forget I’m counting on you, so you’re not bloody pulling out.”
“If I’m the most suitable candidate for best man I can’t imagine what your social life is like, Jens.”
“I’ve conned everyone I know at least once. I don’t want any stories of that sort in the best man’s speech, all right?”
Harry laughed. “OK, give me a few days to mull it over. I was ringing, though, to ask you for a favor. I’m trying to find out something about one of the owners of Phuridell, a company known as Ellem Ltd, but all I can find in the company register is a PO box in Bangkok and confirmation that the share capital has been paid.”
“It must be a relatively new owner. I haven’t heard the name. I’ll do a bit of ringing around and see if I can dig up something. I’ll call you back.”
“No, Jens. This is strictly confidential. Only Liz, Løken and I know anything about it, so you mustn’t mention it to anyone. Not even anyone else in the police knows. The three of us are meeting in secret this evening, so it would be great if you had anything by then. I’ll ring you, OK?”
“All right. This sounds heavy. I thought the case was done and dusted.”
“It will be this evening.”
The sound of pneumatic drills on rock was deafening.
“Are you George Walters?” Harry shouted into the ear of the man wearing the yellow helmet who the men in overalls had pointed out to him.
He turned to Harry. “Yes, who are you?”
Twenty meters beneath them the traffic was crawling at a snail’s pace. It was going to be another afternoon of gridlock.
“Detective Officer Hole. Norwegian police.”
Walters rolled up a technical drawing and gave it to one of the two men beside him.
“Oh, yes.”
He made a time-out signal to the man drilling and the relative silence settled like a filter on the eardrums as the machine was turned off.
“A Wacker,” Harry said. “LHV5.”
“Oh, met it before, have you?”
“I had a summer job on a building site years ago. Shook my kidneys up with one of them.”
Walters nodded. His eyebrows had been bleached white by the sun, and he looked tired. Wrinkles had already formed deep into the middle-aged face.
Harry pointed down the concrete road running like a Roman aqueduct through a stony wilderness of houses and skyscrapers. “So this is BERTS, Bangkok’s salvation?”
“Yes,” Walters said, looking in the same direction as Harry. “You’re standing on it now.”
The reverence in his voice, plus the fact that he was here and not in an office, told Harry that the boss of Phuridell was happier with engineering than with accounts. It was more exciting to see how the project was taking shape than to get too involved with solving the company’s dollar debt.
“Reminds you of the Great Wall of China,” Harry said.
“This will bring people together, not keep them out.”
“I’ve come here to ask about Klipra and this project. And Phuridell.”
“Tragic,” Walters said, without specifying which particular element he was referring to.