Phantom(133)

‘Who were the two guys who turned up? Rudolf’s men?’

Truls nodded. ‘They got away, but I got a slug in one of them.’

‘What happened?’

Truls shrugged. ‘I suppose I know too much.’ He attempted a laugh, but it sounded like a chesty cough.

They sat still, looking at each other.

‘What are you planning to do?’ Truls asked.

‘Catch him,’ Hole said.

Catch. It was a long time since Truls had heard anyone use that word.

‘So, will he have people around him?’

‘Three or four, tops,’ Truls said. ‘Maybe just those two.’

‘Mm. Got any other hardware?’

‘Hardware?’

‘Apart from that.’ Hole nodded to the coffee table where two of the pistols and the MP5 machine gun lay loaded and ready to fire. ‘I’ll cuff you and search the flat, so you might as well show me.’

Truls Berntsen weighed the options. Then he nodded towards the bedroom.

Hole shook his head as Truls opened the wardrobe door and switched on a neon tube that cast blue light over the contents: six pistols, two large knives, a black truncheon, knuckledusters, a gas mask and a so-called riot gun, a short dumpy weapon with a cylinder in the middle holding large tear-gas cartridges. Truls had most of the police stock from the store where they reckoned on a small amount of wastage.

‘You’re out of your mind, Berntsen.’

‘Why’s that?’

Hole pointed. Truls had hammered nails into the wall and inked outlines around the weapons. Everything had its place.

‘Bullet-proof vest on a clothes hanger? Frightened it will crease?’

Truls Berntsen didn’t answer.

‘OK,’ Hole said, taking the vest. ‘Give me the riot gun, the gas mask and the ammo for the MP5 in the sitting room. And a rucksack.’

Hole followed while Truls filled the rucksack. They went back to the sitting room, where Harry picked up the MP5.

Afterwards they stood in the doorway.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Harry said. ‘But before you make any phone calls or try to stop me in any other way perhaps you should bear in mind that everything I know about you and this case is held by a solicitor. He has been instructed how to act if anything should happen to me. Understood?’

Lies, Truls thought, and nodded.

Hole chuckled. ‘Think I’m lying, don’t you. But you can’t be one hundred per cent sure, can you?’

Truls felt a deep hatred for Hole. Hated his condescending, indifferent smile.

‘And what happens if you survive, Hole?’

‘Then your problems are over. I’ll be gone, I’ll fly to the other side of the globe. And I won’t be coming back. One final thing …’ Hole buttoned up the long coat over the bullet-proof vest. ‘It was you who deleted Blindernveien 74 from the list Bellman and I received, wasn’t it?’

Truls Berntsen was about to answer ‘no’ as an automatic response. But something – an intuition, a semi-digested thought – stopped him. The truth was he had never found out where Rudolf Asayev lived.

‘Yes,’ Truls Berntsen said as his brain churned, absorbing information. Tried to analyse what it implied. The list Bellman and I received. Tried to draw a conclusion. But he couldn’t think fast enough, it had never been his strong suit, he needed more time.

‘Yes,’ he repeated, hoping his surprise was not obvious. ‘Of course it was me who deleted the address.’

‘I’ll leave this rifle,’ Harry said, opening the chamber and releasing the cartridge inside. ‘If I don’t come back it can be delivered to a firm of solicitors, Bach & Simonsen.’

Hole slammed the door and Truls heard his long strides down the stairs. Waited until he was sure they would not be returning. And then he reacted.

Hole had not found the Märklin leaning against the wall behind the curtain beside the balcony door. Truls grabbed the heavy assassination rifle, tore open the balcony door. Rested the barrel on the railings. It was cold and drizzly, but more important, there was almost no wind.

He saw Hole coming out of the block underneath, saw his coat flapping round him as he trotted towards the waiting taxi in the car park. Spotted him through the light-sensitive sights. German optics and engineering expertise. The image was grainy, but in focus. He could take Hole from here, no problem; the bullet would pierce him from head to toe, or – even better – exit right by his reproductive equipment. After all, the weapon was originally made for hunting elephants. But if he waited until Hole was under one of the street lamps in the car park he would have an even safer shot. And that would be very practical; there weren’t many people in the car park so late and it wouldn’t be so far for Truls to drag the body to the car.