‘I just know he’s gone,’ Mikael said, and Truls could hear from the slightly slurred speech that he was not totally sober, either. ‘But they found the other two.’
‘His Cossacks?’
‘I still believe that all the stuff about them being Cossacks is bollocks. Anyway, Gunnar Hagen from Crime Squad contacted me and wondered if I could help. Tear gas and automatic weapons were used, so they have a theory it might have been the settling of an old score. He wondered if Orgkrim had any candidates. They were tapping in the dark, he said.’
‘And you answered?’
‘I answered that I had no idea who it could be, which is the truth. If it’s a gang they’ve managed to sail under the radar.’
‘Do you think the old boy could have escaped?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘I think his body’s rotting somewhere down there.’ Truls saw a hand point into the starry sky. ‘Maybe we’ll find it very soon, maybe we’ll never find it.’
‘Bodies always turn up, don’t they?’
No, Truls thought. He stood with his weight distributed evenly across both feet, felt them press against the cement of the terrace, and vice versa. They don’t.
‘Nevertheless,’ Mikael said, ‘someone has done it, and he’s new. We’ll soon see who is Oslo’s new king of the dope heap.’
‘And what do you think that will mean for us?’
‘Nothing, my love.’ Truls could see Mikael Bellman place his hand behind Isabelle Skøyen’s neck. In silhouette, it looked as if he was about to strangle her. She lurched to the side. ‘We’ve got where we wanted to be. We jump off here. In fact, it couldn’t have had a better end than this. We didn’t need the old boy any more, and considering what he had on you and me in the course of … our cooperation, it’s …’
‘It’s?’
‘It’s …’
‘Remove your hand, Mikael.’
Alcoholic laughter, as smooth as velvet. ‘If this new king hadn’t done the job for us I might have had to do it myself.’
‘Let Beavis do it, you mean?’
Truls started at the sound of the hated nickname. Mikael had been the first person to use it. And it had stuck. People had caught on to the underbite and the grunted laugh. Mikael had even consoled him by saying he had been thinking more about the ‘anarchistic perception of reality’ and the ‘nonconformist morality’ of the cartoon character on MTV. Had made it sound as if he had awarded Truls an honorary bloody title.
‘No, I would never have let Truls know about my role in this.’
‘I still think it’s strange you don’t trust him. Aren’t you old friends? Didn’t he make this terrace for you?’
‘He did. In the middle of the night on his ownsome. See what I mean? We’re talking about a man who’s not a hundred per cent predictable. He’s prone to all sorts of weird and wonderful ideas.’
‘Yet you advised the old boy to recruit Beavis as a burner?’
‘That’s because I’ve known Truls since childhood, and I know he’s corrupt through and through and easily bought.’
Isabelle Skøyen screeched with laughter, and Mikael shushed her.
Truls had stopped breathing. His throat tightened, and it was as if he had an animal in his stomach. A small roving animal searching for a way out. It tickled and quivered. It tried an upward route. It pressed against his chest.
‘By the way, you’ve never told me why you chose me as your business partner,’ Mikael said.
‘Because you’ve got such a great cock, of course.’
‘No, be serious. If I hadn’t agreed to work with you and the old boy, I would’ve had to arrest you.’
‘Arrest?’ She snorted. ‘Everything I’ve done has been for the good of the town. Legalising marijuana, distributing methadone, financing a room for fixes. Or clearing the way for a drug that results in fewer ODs. What’s the difference? Drug policies are pragmatism, Mikael.’
‘Relax, I agree, goes without saying. We’ve made Oslo a better place. Skål to that.’
She ignored his raised glass. ‘You would never have arrested me anyway. Because, if you had, I would’ve told anyone who wanted to listen that I was fucking you behind your sweet little wife’s back.’ She giggled. ‘Right behind her back. Do you remember the first time we met at that premiere and I said you could fuck me? Your wife was standing right behind you, barely out of earshot, but you didn’t even blink. Just asked me for fifteen minutes to send her home.’