Cockroaches(72)

“There are a couple of things you don’t know, Hole. You should perhaps have been told, but your Police Commissioner probably thought it unnecessary as this has nothing to do with your murder investigation. But now I’ve been exposed you may as well know the rest. The Police Commissioner and Dagfinn Torhus from the Foreign Office told me about the photos you found in the ambassador’s briefcase and now you know of course that they’re mine.” With an outstretched palm, he continued. “Those and the pictures you can see here are links in a pedophilia investigation which, for a variety of reasons, has been labeled secret until further notice. I’ve been carrying out surveillance of this person for more than six months. The photos are evidence.”

Harry didn’t require a moment to consider; he knew this was the truth. Everything clicked into place, as though deep down he had known all along. The secrecy around Løken’s job, the photographic equipment, the night-vision binoculars, the trips to Vietnam and Laos, everything fitted. And the man bleeding from the nose opposite him was suddenly no longer his enemy but a colleague, an ally whose nose he had made a serious attempt to smash.

He nodded slowly and put the gun down on the table.

“Fine, I believe you. Why so secret?”

“Do you know about the agreement Sweden and Denmark have with Thailand to investigate sexual abuse cases here?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, Norway is negotiating with the Thai authorities, and in the meantime, I’m conducting a highly unofficial investigation. We have enough to arrest him, but we have to wait. If we arrest him now we would reveal that we’ve been looking into the case illegally on Thai territory, and that is politically unacceptable.”

“So who are you working for?”

Løken splayed his palms. “The embassy.”

“I know that but who do you take orders from? Who’s behind all this? What about parliament? Do they know?”

“Are you sure you want to know so much, Hole?”

The intense eyes met Harry’s. He was about to say something, but held back and shook his head.

“Tell me who the man in the photo is then.”

“I can’t. Sorry, Hole.”

“Is it Atle Molnes?”

Løken stared at the table and smiled. “No, it isn’t the ambassador. He was the prime mover in this case.”

“Is it—?”

“As I said, I don’t have any reason to tell you now. If our cases turn out to be connected it may be a matter for discussion, but that’s up to our superiors to decide.” He got up. “I’m tired.”


“How did it go?” Sunthorn asked when Harry was back in the car.

Harry asked him if he could bum a cigarette and hungrily inhaled the smoke into his lungs.

“Didn’t find anything. Waste of a trip. My guess is the guy’s clean.”


Harry sat in his flat.

Once he’d got back from Løken’s apartment, he had spoken to his sister on the phone for almost half an hour. That is, she did most of the talking. It is unbelievable how much can happen in a life in little more than a week. She said she had called their father and that she was going over for dinner. Meatballs. Sis was going to cook, and she hoped her father would open up a bit. Harry hoped so too.

Afterward he flipped through his notebook and rang another number.

“Hello?” a voice said at the other end.

Harry held his breath.

“Hello?” the voice repeated.

Harry rang off. There had been something verging on pleading in Runa’s voice. He really didn’t have a clue why he had called her. A few seconds later the telephone peeped. He lifted the receiver and waited to hear her voice. It was Jens Brekke.

“I’ve got it,” he said. The voice was excited. “When I took the lift from the car park to the office I bumped into a woman on the ground floor. She got out on the fourth. And I think she’ll remember me.”

“Why’s that?”

There was a slightly nervous chuckle. “Because I asked her out.”

“You asked her out?”

“Yes, she’s one of the girls who work for McEllis. I’ve seen her a couple of times before. We were the only two in the lift and her smile was so sweet I couldn’t restrain myself.”

There was a pause.

“You remembered that now?”

“No, now I remembered when it happened, after I’d accompanied the ambassador to his car. For some reason I imagined it had happened the day before. But then it struck me she had got into the lift on the ground floor and that must mean I was coming from lower down. And I don’t usually go to the underground car park.”