The Leopard(141)

Since this establishment was within walking distance of the two remaining newspaper offices in Akersgata – Verdens Gang and Dagbladet – Stopp Pressen was almost considered an extended canteen for these two, but for the moment there were only two people visible inside. The barman behind the counter and a man sitting at the table furthest back, beneath a shelf of classic books published by Gyldendal and an old radio, which were obviously meant to give the place a certain cachet.

The man beneath the shelf was Bent Nordbø. He had John Gielgud’s superior appearance, John Major’s panoramic glasses and Larry King’s braces. And he was reading a genuine newspaper’s newspaper. Roger had heard that Nordbø read only the New York Times, Financial Times, Guardian, China Daily, Süddeutsche Zeitung, El País and Le Monde, although he did read them every day. He might take it into his head to flick through Pravda and the Slovenian Dnevnik, but he insisted that ‘East European languages are so heavy on the eye’.

Gjendem stopped in front of his table with a cough. Bent Nordbø finished reading the last lines of an article about the Mexican immigrants’ revitalisation of former condemned areas of the Bronx, glanced down at the page to make sure there was nothing else of interest. Then he removed his enormous glasses, snatched the handkerchief from the breast pocket of his tweed jacket and looked up at the nervous, and still breathless, man standing by his table.

‘Roger Gjendem, I presume.’

‘Yes.’

Nordbø folded the newspaper. Gjendem had also been told that when the man opened it again you could take it that the conversation was over. Nordbø tilted his head and started the not inconsiderable task of cleaning his glasses.

‘You’ve worked on criminal cases for many years and you know many of the people at Kripos and Crime Squad, don’t you?’

‘Er … yes.’

‘Mikael Bellman. What do you know about him?’

Harry scrunched up his eyes at the sun flooding into his room. He had just woken up and spent the first seconds shaking off dreams and reconstructing reality.

They had heard his shots.

And uncovered the ski pole at the first thrust of the spade.

Afterwards they had told him that what had frightened them most was being shot at while they were digging down to the chimney.

His head ached as if he had been off the booze for a week. Harry swung his legs out of bed and looked around the room he had been given at the Ustaoset mountain hotel.

Kaja and Kolkka had been taken by helicopter to Oslo and Rikshospital. Harry had refused to join them. Only after he had lied and said he’d had loads of air the whole time and was absolutely fine did they let him stay.

Harry put his head under the tap in the bathroom and drank. ‘Water’s never that bad and is sometimes quite nice.’ Who used to say that? Rakel when she wanted Oleg to drink up at the table. He switched on his mobile phone, which had been off since he left for Håvass. There was coverage here in Ustaoset, the display said. It also showed there was a message waiting. Harry played it, but there was only a second of coughing and laughing before the connection was broken. Harry checked the caller’s number. A mobile number, could be anyone’s. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but it definitely wasn’t from Rikshospital. Whoever it was would probably ring again if it was important.

In the breakfast room Mikael Bellman sat in solitary majesty with a cup of coffee in front of him. Papers folded and read. Harry didn’t need to look at them to know it was more of the same. More about the Case, more about the police’s helplessness, more pressure. But today’s edition would hardly have been quick enough off the mark to include the death of Jussi Kolkka.

‘Kaja’s fine,’ Bellman said.

‘Mm. Where are the others?’

‘They caught the morning train to Oslo.’

‘But you didn’t?’

‘Thought I would wait for you. What do you think?’

‘About what?’

‘About the avalanche. Just something that can happen?’

‘No idea.’

‘No? Did you hear the boom before it came?’

‘Might have been the snowdrift on top falling and hitting the side of the mountain. Which in turn triggered the avalanche.’

‘Do you think it sounded like that?’

‘I don’t know what it’s supposed to sound like. Noises do definitely trigger avalanches though.’

Bellman shook his head. ‘Even experienced mountain folk believe that myth about sound waves triggering them. I climbed the Alps with an avalanche expert and he told me that people there still believe that the avalanches during the Second World War were caused by cannonfire. The truth is that for a shell to start an avalanche there has to be a direct hit.’