Phantom(91)

‘Yes.’

‘So no porch-type structure then.’

‘Are you planning to search for places in Oslo without a porch?’

‘Well, different parts of Oslo were built in different periods, and they have a number of common features.’

‘And what’s the period for timber houses, shingle paths and steps to a door without an overhang or nearby tramlines?’

‘You sound like a chief superintendent.’ Harry did not reap the smile or laughter he had hoped he would. ‘When you left did you notice any sounds close by?’

‘Such as?’

‘Such as the peeping of the pedestrian crossing.’

‘No, nothing like that. But there was music.’

‘Recorded or live?’

‘Live, I think. The cymbals were clear. You could hear the guitars, sort of floating and fading on the wind.’

‘Sounds live. Well remembered.’

‘I only remember because they were playing one of your songs.’

‘My songs?’

‘From one of your records. I remember because Gusto said this was unreal life, and I thought that must have been an unconscious train of thought. He must have heard the line they had just sung.’

‘Which line?’

‘Something about a dream. I’ve forgotten, but you used to play that song all the time.’

‘Come on, Oleg, this is important.’

Oleg looked at Harry. His feet stopped tapping. He closed his eyes and tried humming a tune. ‘It’s just a dreamy Gonzales …’ He opened his eyes, his face was red. ‘Something like that.’

Harry hummed it to himself. And shook his head.

‘Sorry,’ Oleg said, ‘I’m not sure, and it lasted only a few seconds.’

‘That’s fine,’ Harry said, patting the boy’s shoulder. ‘Tell me what happened at Alnabru then.’

Oleg’s foot started up again. He took two breaths, two deep mouthfuls of air, as he had learned to do on the start line before he crouched down. Then he spoke.

Afterwards Harry sat for a long time rubbing the back of his neck. ‘So you drilled a man to death?’

‘We didn’t. A policeman did.’

‘Whose name you don’t know. Or where he worked.’

‘No, both Gusto and he were careful about that. Gusto said it was best if I didn’t know.’

‘And you’ve no idea what happened to the body?’

‘No. Are you going to report me?’

‘No.’ Harry took his pack of cigarettes and flipped out a smoke.

‘Do I get one?’ Oleg asked.

‘Sorry, son. Bad for your health.’

‘But—’

‘On one condition. That you let Hans Christian hide you and leave it to me to find Irene.’

Oleg stared at the blocks of flats on the hill behind the stadium. Flowerboxes still hung from the balconies. Harry studied his profile. The Adam’s apple going up and down the slim neck.

‘Deal,’ he said.

‘Good.’ Harry passed him a cigarette and lit up for both of them.

‘Now I understand the metal finger,’ Oleg said. ‘It’s so that you can smoke.’

‘Yep,’ Harry said, holding the cigarette between the titanium prosthesis and his index finger while selecting Rakel’s number. He didn’t need to ask for Hans Christian’s number as he was there with her. The solicitor said he would come at once.

Oleg bent double as if it had suddenly become colder. ‘Where’s he going to hide me?’

‘I don’t know, and I don’t want to know either.’

‘Why not?’

‘I have such sensitive testicles. I spill the beans at the very mention of the words car battery.’

Oleg laughed. It was short, but it was laughter. ‘I don’t believe that. You’d let them take your life before you said a word.’

Harry eyed the boy. He could crack weak jokes all day if only to see those glimpses of a smile.

‘You’ve always had such high expectations of me, Oleg. Too high. And I’ve always wanted you to see me as better than I am.’

Oleg looked down at his hands. ‘Don’t all boys see their fathers as heroes?’

‘Maybe. And I didn’t want you to expose me as a deserter, someone who clears off. But things happened as they did anyway. What I wanted to say was that even if I wasn’t there for you, that doesn’t mean you weren’t important to me. We can’t live the lives we would like to. We’re prisoners of … things. Of who we are.’

Oleg lifted his chin. ‘Of junk and shit.’

‘That too.’

They inhaled in unison. Watching the smoke drift in gusts towards the vast, open, blue sky. Harry knew that nicotine couldn’t appease the cravings in the boy, but at least it was a distraction. And that was all it was about, for the next few minutes.