“So you were no smarter than he wanted you to be?”
Harry shrugged. “Nope. But I can live with that. Jim Love couldn’t. He received his payment in poisoned opium.”
“Because he was a witness?”
“As I said, Brekke doesn’t like taking risks.”
“But what about the motive?”
Harry puffed out his cheeks. It sounded like a juggernaut braking.
“Do you remember us wondering if the right to dispose of over fifty million kroner for six years was a good enough motive for killing the ambassador? It wasn’t. But to have it for the rest of his life was a good enough motive for Jens Brekke to kill three people. According to the will, Runa would inherit the money when she was of age, but as it doesn’t say anything about what happens if she dies, the money will obviously follow the line of inheritance. That is, the fortune will belong to Hilde Molnes. The will doesn’t prevent her from gaining access now.”
“How’s Brekke going to make her give him the money?”
“He doesn’t have to do a thing. Hilde Molnes has six months left to live. Long enough for her to marry him, and just long enough for Brekke to play the perfect gentleman.”
“So he got rid of the husband and the daughter so he can inherit the fortune when she dies?”
“Not only that,” Harry said. “He’s spent the money already.”
Liz furrowed her brow.
“He’s taken over an almost bankrupt company called Phuridell. If what Barclays Thailand thinks will happen happens, the company could be worth twenty times what he paid.”
“So why would the others sell?”
“According to George Walters, the boss of Phuridell, ‘the others’ are a couple of small-time shareholders who refused to sell their block of shares to Ove Klipra when he became the majority shareholder because they knew something big was brewing. But after Klipra disappeared off the scene they were informed the dollar debt could crack the company, so they happily accepted Brekke’s offer. The same is true of the firm of solicitors administering Klipra’s estate. The total purchase price is around a hundred million kroner.”
“But Brekke hasn’t got the money yet.”
“Walters says that half of the money is due on signature, the other half in six months. How he’s going to pay the first half, I don’t know. He must have scraped together the money some other way.”
“And what happens if she doesn’t die within six months?”
“For some reason I believe Brekke’s going to make sure it happens. He mixes her drinks …”
Liz gazed into the air thoughtfully. “Didn’t he think it would seem suspicious if he turned up as the new owner of Phuridell at this exact moment?”
“Yes, that’s why he bought the shares in the name of a company called Ellem Ltd.”
“Someone could have found out he was behind it.”
“He isn’t, on the surface. The company’s been set up in Hilde’s name. But of course he inherits it when she dies.”
Liz shaped her lips into a soundless “O.” “How did you work all this out?”
“With the help of Walters. But I had a suspicion when I saw Phuridell’s list of shareholders at Klipra’s house.”
“Really?”
“Ellem.” Harry smiled. “At first it made me suspect Ivar Løken. His nickname from the Vietnam War was LM. But the solution was even more banal.”
“I give up.”
“If you reverse Ellem it’s Melle. Hilde Molnes’s maiden name.”
Liz looked at Harry as if he were an attraction in the zoo.
“You’re not real,” she mumbled.
Jens looked at the papaya he was holding in his hand.
“Do you know what, Løken? When you take a bite from a papaya it tastes of vomit. Have you noticed that?”
He sank his teeth into the flesh. The juice ran down his cheek.
“And then it tastes of cunt.”
He leaned back and laughed.
“You know, a papaya costs five baht here in Chinatown—as good as nothing. Everyone can afford it. Eating a papaya is one of the so-called simple pleasures. And as with other simple pleasures you don’t appreciate them until they’re gone. It’s like …” Jens gesticulated as if he was searching for a suitable analogy. “Like being able to wipe your arse. Or have a wank. All that’s required is at least one hand.”
He lifted Løken’s severed hand by the middle finger and held it in front of his face.
“You’ve still got one. Think about it. And think about all the things you can’t do without hands. I’ve already given it some thought, so let me help. You can’t peel an orange, you can’t thread bait onto a fishhook, you can’t caress a woman’s body or button up your own trousers. Yes, you can’t even shoot yourself, in case you should be tempted to do that. You’ll need someone to help you with everything. Everything. Give it some thought.”