'Time is cheap here,' Raskol said in a surprisingly bright and gentle voice. He talked like an Eastern European with strong 'r's and clear diction.
'I understand. I'm Harry Hole and my colleague is—'
'Beate Lřnn. You're like your father, Beate.'
Harry heard Beate's gasp and half-turned. Her face had not reddened; on the contrary, her pale skin was even whiter and her mouth had frozen into a grimace, as if she had been slapped.
Looking down at the table, Harry coughed, and noticed for the first time that the almost eerie symmetry either side of the axis dividing him from Raskol was broken by one minor detail: the king and the queen on the chessboard.
'Where have I seen you before, Hole?'
'I'm mostly to be seen in the vicinity of dead people,' Harry said.
'Aha. The funeral. You were one of Ivarsson's guard dogs.'
'No.'
'So you didn't like that, eh? Being called his guard dog. Is there bad blood between you?'
'No,' Harry reflected. 'We just don't like each other. You didn't either, I understand.'
Raskol smiled gently and the neon tube flickered into life. 'I hope he didn't take it personally. It looked like a very expensive suit.'
'I think his suit suffered most.'
'He wanted me to tell him something. So I told him something.'
'That snitches are marked for life?'
'Not bad, Inspector. But the ink will fade with time. Do you play chess?'
Harry tried not to show that Raskol had used the correct rank. He might have guessed.
'How did you manage to hide the transmitter afterwards?' Harry asked. 'I heard they turned the whole block upside down.'
'Who said I hid anything? Black or white?'
'They say you're still the brains behind most of the big bank robberies in Norway, that this is your base and your part of the proceeds is paid into a foreign account. Is that why you made sure you were put in A-Wing in Botsen? Because you can meet the short-termers who are soon out and can execute the plans you hatch here? And how do you communicate with them on the outside? Have you got mobile phones here, too? Computers?'
Raskol sighed. 'A promising start, Inspector, but you're beginning to bore me already. Shall we play or not?'
'A boring game,' Harry said. 'Unless there's something in the pot.'
'Fine by me. What shall we play for?'
'This.' Harry held up a keyring with one single key and a brass nameplate.
'And what's that?' Raskol asked.
'No one knows. Occasionally you have to take a risk that what's in the pot has some value.'
'Why should I?'
Harry leaned forward. 'Because you trust me.'
Raskol laughed out loud. 'Give me one reason why I should trust you, Spiuni.'
'Beate,' Harry said without taking his eyes off Raskol. 'Would you mind leaving us on our own?'
He heard the banging on the door and the rattle of keys behind him. The door was opened and there was a smooth click as the lock fell into place.
'Have a look.' Harry put the key on the table.
Without removing his eyes from Harry's, Raskol asked: 'AA?'
Harry picked up the white king from the board. It was hand-carved and a handsome piece. 'Those are the initials of a man with a delicate problem. He was rich. He had a wife and children. House and chalet. Dog and lover. Everything in the garden seemed rosy.' Harry turned the piece on its head. 'But as time passed, the rich man changed. Events made him realise that the family was the most important thing in his life. So he sold his company, got rid of the lover and promised himself and his family that now they would live for each other. The problem was that the lover began to threaten the man with exposing their relationship. She may have blackmailed him, too. Not because she was greedy, but because she was poor. And because she was finishing off a piece of art which she thought would crown her life's work, and she needed money to launch it. She pressed him harder and harder, and one night he decided to pay her a visit. Not just any evening, but this special evening, because she had told him an old flame was coming round. Why did she tell him? Perhaps to make him jealous? Or to show there were other men who wanted her? He wasn't jealous. He was excited. This was a wonderful opportunity.' Harry looked at Raskol. He had crossed his arms and was watching Harry. 'He waited outside. Waited and waited, watching the lights in her flat. Just before midnight the visitor left. An arbitrary man who–should it ever come to that–would not have an alibi, who others presumably would confirm had spent the whole evening with Anna. Her watchful neighbour, if no one else, would have heard this man ring earlier in the evening. Our man didn't ring, though. Our man let himself in with a key. Crept up the stairs and unlocked the door to her flat.'