Reluctantly, she stepped forward a pace, but no further.
'OK,' Tom said. 'On this day in–when was it, Beate?'
'June,' she breathed.
'June, yes. They hear the report on the radio, the bank is close by, they drive there and take up positions outside, armed. The young officer and the experienced inspector. They go by the book, wait for reinforcements or for the robbers to come out of the bank. Not dreaming of entering the bank. Until one of the men appears in the doorway with a gun to the head of the female bank clerk. He calls your father's name. The man has seen them outside and recognised Inspector Lřnn. He shouts he won't hurt the woman, but he needs a hostage. If Lřnn takes her place, that would be fine by them. But he has to drop his gun and go into the bank alone to effect the exchange. And your father, what does he do? He thinks. He has to think quickly. The woman is in shock. People die of shock. He thinks of his own wife, your mother. A June day, Friday, soon the weekend. And the sun…was the sun shining, Beate?'
She nodded.
'He thinks how hot it must be in the bank. The strain. The desperation. Then he makes up his mind. What does he decide? What does he decide, Beate?'
'He goes in.' The whisper was thick with emotion.
'He goes in.' Waaler lowers his voice. 'Inspector Lřnn has gone in and the young officer waits. Waits for reinforcements. Waits for the woman to come out. Waits for someone to tell him what to do, or that it is just a dream or a training exercise, and he can go home because it's Friday and the sun is shining. Instead he hears…' Waaler imitated the rattle of a gun with his tongue against his palate. 'Your father falls against the front door, which opens, and he is spread on the ground, half in, half out. Six shots in his chest.'
Beate collapsed into the chair.
'The young officer sees the inspector lying there and he knows now it isn't an exercise. Or a dream. They really do have automatic weapons in there and they do shoot policemen in cold blood. He's more frightened than he has ever been before or since. He's read about this, he got good grades in psychology, but something has cracked. He's gripped by the panic he wrote so well about in the exam. He gets in his car and drives. He drives and drives until he's home, and his new young wife comes to meet him and is angry because he's late for the evening meal. He takes his reprimand standing, like a schoolboy, and promises it will never happen again and they eat. After eating, they watch TV. A reporter says a policeman has been shot during a bank raid. Your father is dead.'
Beate hid her face in her hands. It had all come back to her. The whole day. A look of curious wonderment on the round sun in the meaninglessly blue sky. She had thought it was only a dream, too.
'Who could the bank raiders be? Who knows the name of your father, who knows the whole bank scene, who knows that of the two police officers standing outside, Inspector Lřnn is the one to pose a threat? Who is so cold and calculating that he can place your father in a dilemma and know which choice he will make? So he can shoot him and do what he likes with the scared young officer? Who's that? Beate?'
The tears were flowing between her fingers. 'Ras…' she sniffled.
'I didn't hear, Beate.'
'Raskol.'
'Raskol, yes. And only him. His sidekick was furious. They were robbers, not killers, he said. He was stupid enough to threaten to give himself up and finger Raskol. Fortunately for him, he manages to leave Norway before Raskol catches him.'
Beate was sobbing. Waaler waited.
'Do you know what the funniest thing about this is? That you allowed yourself to be taken in by your father's murderer? Just like your father.'
Beate raised her head. 'What…what do you mean?'
Waaler shrugged. 'You ask Raskol to point out the murderer. He's after someone who threatened to testify against him in a murder trial. So what does he do? Of course, he points out this person.'
'Lev Grette?' She dried her tears.
'Why not? So you could help him to find him. I read you found Grette hanging from a rope. That he'd committed suicide. I wouldn't put money on it. I wouldn't be surprised if someone got there before you.'
Beate cleared her throat. 'You're forgetting a couple of details. First of all, we found a suicide note. Lev didn't leave a lot in writing, but I talked to his brother, who dug up a few of Lev's old school exercise books from the loft in Disengrenda. I took them to Jean Hue, the writing expert in Kripos, who confirmed the note was written by Lev. Secondly, Raskol is already in prison. Of his own accord. That doesn't quite square with an intent to murder to avoid punishment.'
Waaler shook his head. 'You're a clever girl, but just like your father you lack psychological insight. You don't understand how the criminal mind works. Raskol isn't in prison; it's just a temporary posting to Botsen. A murder conviction would change all that. In the meantime you're protecting him. And his friend, Harry Hole.'