The Redbreast(125)

voice, something which made him feel like being a

trifle more obliging. Your broad experience, she

had said. He felt like asking her if it had been her

idea to call him, Bernt Brandhaug, in particular.

‘As the most senior civil servant in the Ministry

of Foreign Affairs I ensure that our usual

diplomatic relations with Austria are maintained,’

he said. ‘That is clear – we are of course aware

that other countries in the world are reacting to

what is going on in Austria now. However, having

diplomatic relations with a country does not mean

that we like what is happening there.’

‘No, we do have diplomatic links with several

military regimes,’ the voice answered at the other

end. ‘So why do you think there are such violent

reactions to precisely this government?’

‘I suppose it must be based on Austria’s recent

history.’ He should have stopped there. He should

have stopped. ‘The links with Nazism are there.

After all, most historians agree that during the

Second World War Austria was in reality an ally

of Hitler’s Germany.’

‘Wasn’t Austria occupied, like Norway?’

It struck him that he had no idea what they learned

at school about the Second World War nowadays.

Very little apparently.

‘What did you say your name was?’ he asked.

Perhaps he had drunk a bit too much. She told him

her name.

‘Well, Natasja, let me help you a little before you

start ringing anyone else. Have you heard of the

Anschluss? It means that Austria wasn’t occupied

in the normal understanding of the word. The

Germans marched on Austria in March 1938.

There was almost no resistance and that was how

it stayed for the remainder of the war.’

‘Like Norway then?’

Brandhaug was shocked. She had said it in such

an assured way, without a tinge of shame about her

ignorance.

‘No,’ he said slowly, as if talking to a dull-witted

child. ‘Not like in Norway. In Norway we

defended ourselves and we had the Norwegian

King and Norwegian government in London ready

and waiting, making radio programmes and . . .

giving encouragement to those back home.’

He could hear that his phraseology was slightly

unfortunate and added, ‘In Norway the whole

population stood shoulder to shoulder against the

occupying forces. The few Norwegian traitors who

donned Waffen SS uniforms and fought for the

Germans were the scum of society that you have to

accept exists in every country. But in Norway the

power for good held up, the strong individuals

who led the Resistance movement were the nucleus

which paved the way for the democracy. These

people were loyal to each other and in the final

analysis that is what saved Norway. Democracy is

its own reward. Scrub what I said about the King,

Natasja.’

‘So you think that everyone who fought alongside

the Nazis was scum?’

What was she really after? Brandhaug decided to

bring the conversation to a close.

‘I simply mean to say that those who were traitors

during the war should be happy they were let off

lightly with imprisonment. I’ve been an

ambassador in countries where each and every one

of them would have been shot and I’m not so

damned sure that wouldn’t have been right in

Norway too. But back to the comment you wanted,

Natasja. The Ministry for Foreign Affairs has no

comment to make on the demonstration or on

Austria’s new members of Parliament. I have

guests here, so if you wouldn’t mind excusing me,

Natasja . . .’

Natasja excused him and he put down the phone.

Back in the sitting room people were making

moves to go. ‘Already?’ he said with a broad

smile, but limited his objections to that. He was

tired.

He accompanied his guests to the door. He

applied particular pressure to the Chief

Constable’s hand and said she should not hesitate

to ask should there be anything he could do to help.

It was all very well going through work channels

but . . .

The last thing he thought about before falling

asleep was Rakel. And her policeman he had

removed from the scene. He fell asleep with a

smile, but awoke with a splitting headache.

71

Fredrikstad to Halden. 9 May 2000.

THE TRAIN WAS BARELY HALF FULL AND HARRY HAD

FOUND a seat by the window.

The girl in the seat directly behind him had taken

out the earplugs from her Walkman and he could

make out the vocalist but none of the instruments.

The monitoring expert they had used in Sydney had

explained to Harry that at low volumes the human

ear amplifies the frequencies human voices use.

Harry thought there was something comforting

about the fact that the last thing you heard before