'See if the bank robber's on it, you mean?' Beate mumbled with her mouth full of bread and liver paste. Harry studied her packed lunch.
'Well, we can only hope,' he said.
'Of course,' she said and her eyes filled with water as she struggled to swallow the food. 'In 1993, the Kreditkasse in Frogner was held up. The robber had taken plastic bags with the Shell logo on to put the money in, so we checked the surveillance camera at the nearest Shell station. Turned out he had been in to buy bags ten minutes before the job. Wearing the same clothes, but without a mask. We arrested him half an hour later.'
'We, eight years ago?' Harry asked, not thinking.
Beate's face changed colour like traffic lights. She snatched a slice of bread and tried to hide behind it. 'My father,' she muttered.
'I apologise. I didn't mean it like that.'
'It doesn't matter,' came the swift response.
'Your father…'
'Was killed,' she said. 'It's a long time ago now.'
Harry sat listening to the sounds of chewing while studying his hands.
'Why did you take a tape of the week before the robbery?' Beate asked.
'The skip,' Harry said.
'What about it?'
'I rang the skip company and asked. It was ordered on a Thursday by one Stein Sřbstad in Industrigata and delivered to the agreed site directly outside the 7-Eleven the day after. There are two Stein Sřbstads in Oslo and both deny having ordered a skip. My theory is that the robber had it placed there to cut off the view through the window so that the camera won't film him crossing the road as he leaves the bank. If he had been scouting around the 7-Eleven the same day as he had ordered the skip, we might see someone looking into the camera and out of the window towards the bank, checking angles and so on.'
'With a bit of luck. The witness outside the 7-Eleven says the robber was still masked when he crossed the road, so why would he go to all the bother with a skip?'
'The plan might have been to take off the balaclava while crossing the road.' Harry sighed. 'I don't know, I only know there is something about that green skip. It has been there for a week and apart from the odd passer-by throwing refuse in it, no one has used it.'
'OK,' Beate said, taking the video and standing up.
'One more thing,' Harry said. 'What do you know about this Raskol Baxhet?'
'Raskol?' Beate frowned. 'He was a kind of mythical figure until he gave himself up. If the rumours are true, in one way or another he's had a hand in ninety per cent of the bank robberies in Oslo. My guess is he could finger everyone who has committed a bank robbery here over the last twenty years.'
'So that's what Ivarsson is using him for. Where's he banged up?'
Beate thrust a thumb over her shoulder. 'A-Wing over there.'
'In Botsen?'
'Yes. And he's refused to utter a word to any policeman for the duration of his sentence.'
'So what makes Ivarsson think he can succeed?'
'He's finally found something Raskol wants that he can use to negotiate. In Botsen they say it's the only thing Raskol has asked for since he arrived. Permission to go to the funeral of a relative.'
'Really?' Harry said, hoping his face didn't give anything away.
'She'll be buried in two days' time, and Raskol has lodged an urgent plea with the prison governor to be allowed to attend.'
After Beate had gone, Harry remained at the table. The lunch break was over and the canteen was thinning out. It was supposed to be light and snug and was run by a national catering company, so Harry preferred to eat in town. But he suddenly remembered this was where he had danced with Rakel at the Christmas party; it was precisely here he had decided to make a move on her. Or was it vice versa? He could still feel the curve of her back on his hand.
Rakel.
In two days Anna would be buried, and no one had the slightest doubt that she had died by her own hand. He was the only person who had been there and could have contradicted them, but he couldn't remember a thing. So why couldn't he let sleeping dogs lie? He had everything to lose and nothing to gain. If for no other reason, why couldn't he forget the case for their sake, for his and Rakel's?
Harry put his elbows on the table and cradled his face in his hands.
If he had been able to contradict them, would he have done?
At the neighbouring table they turned when they heard the chair scraping on the floor and watched the close-cropped, long-legged policeman with the bad back stride quickly out of the canteen.
14
Luck
THE BELLS OVER THE DOOR RANG WILDLY IN THE DARK, cramped kiosk as the two men came running in. Elmer's Fruit&Tobacco shop was one of the last kiosks of its kind with car, hunting and fishing magazines on one wall and soft porn, cigarettes and cigars on the other, and three piles of pools coupons on the counter between sweaty liquorice bars and dry, grey marzipan pigs from the previous Christmas tied in a ribbon.