“What for? We’ll know if we’ve been seen. If we run separately the chances of being seen are double. Don’t they teach you anything in the police nowadays?” Harry didn’t have any objections to the rest of the plan.
A white Lincoln Continental dominated the garage, from where a side door did indeed lead into the house. Løken had counted on the lock of the side door being easier than the main door, and besides, they couldn’t be seen from the gate.
He took out his picklock and got down to work.
“Are you checking the time?” he whispered and Harry nodded. According to the timetable there were sixteen minutes till the guard’s next round.
After twelve minutes Harry started to feel his whole body itching.
After thirteen minutes he was wishing Sunthorn would appear in a puff of smoke.
After fourteen minutes he knew they would have to abandon the operation.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered.
“Bit more,” Løken said, stooped over the lock. “A few seconds, no more.”
“Now!” Harry hissed between gritted teeth.
Løken didn’t answer. Harry breathed in and put an arm around his shoulder. Løken turned to him and their eyes met. The gold tooth glinted. “Bingo,” Løken whispered.
The door slid open without a sound. They crept in and closed it quietly behind them. At that moment they heard steps in the garage, saw the light from a torch through the window over the door and then the door handle was given a rough shake. They stood with their backs against the wall. Harry held his breath with his heart pounding blood around his body. Then the steps faded.
Harry found it difficult to keep his voice down. “Twenty minutes you said!”
Løken shrugged. “Give or take.”
Harry counted, breathing through an open mouth.
They switched on their torches and were about to move into the house when there was a crunch beneath Harry’s feet.
“What’s that?” He shone the torch downwards. There were small white clumps on the dark parquet floor.
Løken shone his torch on the whitewashed wall.
“Ugh, Klipra’s a bodger. This house is supposed to be built of nothing but teak. Well, now I’ve really lost respect for the guy,” he said. “Come on, Harry. The clock’s ticking!”
They searched the house quickly and systematically according to Løken’s instructions. Harry concentrated on doing what he was told, remembering where things had been before he moved them, not leaving fingerprints and checking for bits of tape before opening drawers and cupboards. After a couple of hours they sat down at the kitchen table. Løken had found a few child-porn magazines and a revolver that didn’t look as if it had been fired for years. He had taken photos of both.
“The guy’s left in a tearing hurry,” he said. “There are two empty suitcases in his bedroom, the toilet bag’s in the bathroom and the wardrobes are crammed full.”
“He might have had a third suitcase,” Harry suggested.
Løken regarded him with a mixture of disgust and indulgence. The way he would have looked at a willing but not exactly bright recruit, Harry thought.
“No man has two toilet bags, Hole.”
Recruit, Harry thought.
“One room left,” Løken said. “The office on the first floor is locked and the lock is some German monster I can’t pick.” He took a jimmy from his rucksack.
“I’d been hoping we wouldn’t need this,” he said. “That door’s going to be a mess after we’ve finished.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “I think I put his slippers back on the wrong shelf anyway.”
Løken chuckled.
They used the jimmy on the hinges instead of the lock. Harry reacted too slowly and the heavy door fell into the room with a loud bang. They stood still for a few seconds and waited for the guard’s shouts.
“Do you think they heard?” Harry asked.
“Nah. There are so many noises per inhabitant here that one bang more or less won’t be noticed.”
Their torchlights ran like yellow cockroaches up and down the walls.
On the wall above the desk hung a red-and-white Manchester United banner over a framed poster of the team. Beneath it was the city coat of arms in red and white with a ship, carved in wood.
The torch stopped at a photograph. It showed a man with a broad, smiling mouth, solid double chin and two slightly bulging eyes sparkling with amusement. Ove Klipra looked like a man who laughed a lot. He had blond curls blowing in the wind. The photo must have been taken on board a boat.
“He doesn’t exactly fit the picture of a pedophile,” Harry said.