Phantom(144)
‘Rakel.’
‘Hi. It’s me.’
‘Harry? I didn’t recognise your number.’
‘I’ve got a new phone.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad to hear your voice. Did everything go OK?’
‘Yes,’ Harry said and had to smile at the happiness in her voice. ‘Everything went OK.’
‘Is it hot?’
‘Very hot. The sun’s shining, and I’m about to have breakfast.’
‘Breakfast? Isn’t it four o’clock or thereabouts?’
‘Jet lag,’ Harry said. ‘Couldn’t sleep on the plane. I’ve found us a great hotel. It’s in Sukhumvit.’
‘You’ve no idea how much I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Harry.’
‘I—’
‘No, wait, Harry. I mean it. I’ve been awake all night thinking about it. This is absolutely right. That is, we’ll find out if it is. But this is what’s right about it. Finding out. Oh, imagine if I’d said no, Harry.’
‘Rakel—’
‘I love you, Harry. Love you. Do you hear me? Can you hear how flat, strange and fantastic the word is? You really have to mean it to pull it off – like a bright-red dress. Love you. Is that a bit OTT?’
She laughed. Harry closed his eyes and felt the most wonderful sun in the world kiss his skin and the most wonderful laughter in the world kiss his eardrums.
‘Harry? Are you there?’
‘Indeed I am.’
‘It’s so strange. You sound so near.’
‘Mm. I’ll soon be very near, darling.’
‘Say that again.’
‘Say what?’
‘Darling.’
‘Darling.’
‘Mmmm.’
Harry could feel he was sitting on something. Something hard in his back pocket. He took it out. The sun made the veneer on the ring shine like gold.
‘Rakel,’ he said, stroking the black notch with the tip of his finger. ‘How would you feel about getting married?’
‘Harry, don’t mess about.’
‘I’m not messing about. I know you could never imagine marrying a debt collector from Hong Kong.’
‘No, not at all. Who should I imagine marrying then?’
‘I don’t know. What about a civilian, an ex-police officer, who lectures at Police College about murder investigations?’
‘Doesn’t sound like anyone I know.’
‘Perhaps someone you might get to know. Someone who could surprise you. Stranger things have happened.’
‘You’re the one who’s always said people don’t change.’
‘So if now I’m someone who says people can change, there’s the proof that it is possible to change.’
‘Glib bastard.’
‘Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, that I’m right. People can change. And it is possible to put things behind you.’
‘To outstare the ghosts that haunt you?’
‘Then what would you say?’
‘To what?’
‘To my hypothetical question of getting married.’
‘Is that supposed to be a proposal? Hypothetical? On the phone?’
‘Now you’re stretching it a bit. I’m just sitting in the sun and chatting with a charming woman.’
‘And I’m ringing off!’
She hung up, and Harry slumped down on the kitchen chair with closed eyes and a fat grin. Sun-warmed and pain-free. In fourteen hours he would see her. He imagined Rakel’s expression when she came to the gate in Gardermoen and saw him sitting there waiting for her. Her face as Oslo shrank beneath them. Her head gliding onto his shoulder as she fell asleep.
He lay like that until the temperature plummeted. He half opened one eye. The edge of a cloud had drifted in front of the sun, nothing more.
Closed the eye again.
Follow the hatred.
When the old man had said that Harry had at first thought he meant Harry should follow his own hatred and kill him. But what about if he had meant something else? He had said it straight after Harry asked who had killed Gusto. Had that been the answer? Did he mean that if Harry followed the hatred it would lead him to the murderer? In which case there were several candidates. But who had the greatest reason to hate Gusto? Irene, of course, but she had been locked up when Gusto was killed.
The sun was switched back on, and Harry decided he was reading too much into the old man’s words, the job was over, he should relax, he would soon need another tablet. And he should ring Hans Christian to say that Oleg was finally out of danger.
Another thought struck Harry. Truls Berntsen, a rogue officer at Orgkrim, could not possibly have access to the data in the witness protection programme. It had to be someone else. Someone higher up.