The gulls peeled off and performed an elegant roll in the surge of wind.
'Tell me what you know one more time,' Beate said.
'I know this guy has somehow obtained keys to Anna's flat so he got in and out on the night of the murder. When he left, he took Anna's laptop with him and my mobile phone.'
'What was your mobile phone doing in Anna's flat?'
'It must have fallen out of my jacket pocket during the evening. I was a bit animated, as I told you.'
'And then?'
'His original plan was simple. Drive to Larkollen after the murder and plant the key he'd used in Arne Albu's chalet. Attached to a keyring with the initials AA so that no one would be in any doubt. When he found my mobile phone, though, he suddenly realised he could tweak the plan a bit. Make it look like I had first of all murdered Anna and then rigged it so the blame fell on Albu. Then he used my mobile phone to connect to a server in Egypt and started sending me e-mails in such a way that it was impossible to trace the sender.'
'And if he were traced, it would lead to…'
'Me. However, I wouldn't have discovered anything was wrong until I received the next bill from Telenor. Probably not even then, since I don't read them that carefully.'
'Or stop your subscription when you lose your phone.'
'Mm.' Harry jumped up from the bench and began to pace to and fro. 'What's more difficult to understand is how he got into my cellar storeroom. You didn't find any signs of a break-in and no one in our block would have admitted an intruder. In other words, he must have had a key. In fact, all he would need is one key since we use one system key to fit the main door, loft, cellar and flat, but it's not easy to get hold of one. And the key to Anna's flat was also a system key…'
Harry stopped and looked south. A green freighter with two large cranes was on its way up the fjord.
'What are you wondering?' Beate asked.
'I'm wondering whether to ask you to run a check on some names for me.'
'I'd rather not, Harry. I shouldn't even be here, as I said.'
'And I'm wondering where you got the bruises from.'
Her hand went straight to her throat. 'Training. Judo. Anything else you were wondering?'
'Yes, I was wondering if you could give this to Weber.' Harry pulled out the glass wrapped in a cloth from his jacket pocket. 'Ask him to check it for fingerprints and compare them with mine.'
'Has he got yours?'
'Forensics has the fingerprints of all Crime Scene officers. And ask him to analyse what was in the glass.'
'Harry…' she began in an admonitory tone.
'Please?'
Beate sighed and took the bundle.
'Lĺsesmeden AS,' Harry said.
'And what do you mean by that?'
'If you change your mind about checking names, you can run through the staff list at Lĺsesmeden. It's a small company of locksmiths.'
She put on a resigned expression.
Harry shrugged. 'If you give Weber the glass, I'm more than happy.'
'Where do I contact you when Weber has the results?'
'Do you really want to know?' Harry smiled.
'I want to know as little as possible. You contact me, OK?'
Harry pulled his jacket tighter around him. 'Shall we go?'
Beate nodded, but didn't move. Harry raised his eyebrows.
'What he wrote,' she said. 'The bit about only the most vengeful surviving. Do you think it's true, Harry?'
* * *
Harry stretched out his legs in the short bed in the caravan. The noise of the cars in Finnmarkgata reminded Harry of his childhood in Oppsal, lying in bed and listening to the traffic. When they were with Grandpa in the silence of Ĺndalsnes in the summer it was the only thing he longed for: to return to the regular, soporific drone of cars, only broken by a motorbike, a noisy exhaust or a distant police siren.
There was a knock at the door. It was Simon. 'Tess would like you to tell her a goodnight story tomorrow, too,' he said, stepping inside. Harry had told her how the kangaroo had learned to jump and had been rewarded with a goodnight hug by all the children.
The two men smoked in silence. Harry pointed to the photograph on the wall. 'That's Raskol and his brother, isn't it? Stefan, Anna's father?'
Simon nodded.
'Where's Stefan now?'
Simon shrugged, not really interested, and Harry knew the subject was taboo.
'They look like good friends in the photo,' Harry said.
'They were like Siamese twins, you know. Pals. Raskol did two prison stretches for Stefan.' Simon laughed. 'I can see you're taken aback, my friend. It's the tradition. Can you understand? It's an honour to take a brother's or a father's punishment, you know.'