Nemesis(81)

Beate cleared her throat: 'Whose idea was it that you should take the blame?'





'Mine. I loved Lev more than anything on earth. But as the case has been dropped, I can say that now. And the fact is…' Trond put on his absent smile. 'Sometimes I wished it had been me who had dared to do it.'





Harry and Beate fidgeted with their cups in silence. Harry wondered which of them would ask. If he had had Ellen with him, they would have known intuitively.





'Where…?' they began in unison. Trond blinked at them. Harry gave Beate the nod.





'Where does your brother live now?' she asked.





'Where…Lev is?' Trond looked at them in bewilderment.





'Yes,' she said. 'We know he's been away for a while.'





Grette turned to Harry. 'You didn't say this was about Lev.' The intonation was accusatory.





'We said we wanted to talk about this and that,' Harry said. 'We've finished with this, now we're on to that.'





Trond bolted up from his chair, grabbed the cups, went over to the sink and threw out the cocoa. 'But Lev…after all he's my…what on earth has he got to do with…?'





'Perhaps nothing,' Harry said. 'If he has, we would like your help to eliminate him from our inquiries.'





'He doesn't even live in this country,' Trond groaned, turning round to face them.





Beate and Harry looked at each other.





'So where does he live?' Harry asked.





Trond hesitated exactly a tenth of a second too long before answering: 'I don't know.'





Harry watched the yellow dustbin lorry pass outside. 'You're not very good at lying, are you.'





Trond answered him with a rigid stare.





'Mm,' Harry said. 'Perhaps we can't expect you to help us find your brother. On the other hand, it was your wife who was killed. And we have a witness who fingered your brother as the murderer.' He raised his eyes towards Trond as he said the last word and saw his Adam's apple give a jump under the pale skin. In the ensuing silence they could hear a radio playing in the next-door flat.





Harry coughed. 'So if there's anything you can tell us, we would greatly appreciate it.'





Trond shook his head.





They sat for a few moments, then Harry got up. 'Fine. You know where to find us if you think of anything.'





Outside on the step, Trond didn't seem as tired as when they arrived. Red-eyed, Harry peered up into the low sun protruding between the clouds.





'I understand this isn't easy for you, but maybe it's time you took off the red jacket.'





Grette didn't answer, and the last they saw as they turned out of the car park was Grette standing on the doorstep and playing with the diamond ring on his little finger, and a glimpse of a wrinkly, tanned face behind the neighbour's window.





* * *





In the evening the clouds disappeared. Harry stopped at the top of Dovregata on his way home from Schrřder's and stared upwards. The stars twinkled in the moonless sky. One of the lights was a plane flying north towards Gardemoen airport. Orion's Horsehead Nebula. Horsehead Nebula. Orion. Who had told him about it? Had it been Anna, he wondered.





On returning to his flat, he switched on the TV to see the NRK news. Heroic tales about American firefighters. He switched it off. A man's voice screamed a woman's name down in the street; he sounded drunk. Harry rummaged around in his pockets to find the note he had made of Rakel's new number and discovered he still had the key engraved with AA. He put the key at the back of the drawer in the telephone table before ringing the number. No answer. When the telephone rang, he wasn't sure if it would be her; instead he had Řystein on a crackly line.





'Shit, the way they drive here!'





'You don't need to shout, Řystein.'





'They're fucking trying to kill me on the roads here! I took a taxi from Sharm el-Sheikh. Great trip, I thought–right through the desert, not much traffic, straight road. Boy, was I wrong. It's a miracle I'm alive, I can tell you. And so hot! And have you heard the grasshoppers here–the desert crickets? They make the world's highest-pitched grasshopper noises. Goes right through the cerebral cortex, absolutely terrible. The water here is just amazing. Amazing! Completely clear with a dash of green. Body temperature, so you don't even feel it. Yesterday I got out of the sea and wasn't even sure if I'd been in…'





'Forget the sea temperatures, Řystein. Have you found the server?'





'Yes and no.'





'What does that mean?'





Harry didn't get an answer. They had clearly been interrupted by a discussion at the other end. Harry caught fragments, like 'the boss' and 'the money'.





'Harry? Sorry, the guy here got a bit paranoid. And I am too. Bloody hot, it is! But I think I've found the right server. There's always a chance they're trying to screw me, but tomorrow I'll see the works and meet the boss in person. Three minutes on the keyboard and I'll know if it's the right one. And the rest is just a question of money. I hope. Ring you tomorrow. You should see the knives these Bedouins have here…'