first things he did when he woke up was to call
Signe. We used the pay phone at Schrøder’s. And
it was so heart-rendingly funny that the tears
flowed.
More planning tonight. The problem is still how
to get hold of the weapon I need.
100
Oslo. 15 November 1999.
. . . THE PROBLEM FINALLY SEEMED TO BE SOLVED. HE
TURNED up: Hallgrim Dale. Not surprisingly, he
had gone to the dogs. I hoped at least he
wouldn’t recognise me. He had obviously heard
the rumours that I had been killed during the
bombing of Hamburg because he thought I was a
ghost. He suspected some jiggery-pokery and
wanted money to keep his mouth shut. But the
Dale I know wouldn’t have been able to keep a
secret for all the money in the world. So I saw to
it that I was the last person he would talk to. It
gave me no pleasure, but I have to confess I felt a
certain satisfaction at observing that my old
skills were not quite forgotten.
101
Oslo. 17 May 2000.
Oslo. 8 February 2000.
FOR MORE THAN FIFTY YEARS EDVARD AND I HAVE
BEEN meeting six times a year at Schrøder’s. The
first Tuesday of every second month, in the
morning. We still call it the staff meeting, as we
used to do when Schrøder’s was in Youngstorget.
I have often wondered what it was that bound
Edvard and me together, being as different as we
are. Perhaps it is simply a shared fate. We are
marked by the same events. We were both at the
Eastern Front, we have both lost our wives and
our children are grown. I don’t know. The most
important thing for me is that I have Edvard’s
total loyalty. Naturally, he never forgets that I
helped him after the war, but I have also given
him a helping hand in later years. Such as at the
end of the 1960s, when his drinking and betting
on horses got out of control, and when he would
have almost lost his entire truck business, had I
not paid off his gambling debts.
No, there is not a lot left of the fine soldier I
remember from Leningrad, but in recent years
Edvard has at least come to terms with the fact
that life is not quite as he had imagined, and he
is trying to make the best of it. He concentrates
on his horse, and he no longer drinks or smokes;
he contents himself with passing on racing tips to
me.
And, speaking of tips, it was him who tipped me
off about Even Juul asking whether Daniel could
still be alive. The same evening I rang Even and
asked him if he had gone senile. But Even told me
that a few days ago he had lifted the receiver of
an extra telephone they kept in the bedroom and
had overheard a man claiming to be Daniel
scaring the wits out of his wife. The man on the
telephone had said she would hear from him on
one of the following Tuesdays. Even had
recognised the sounds of a café, and now he had
decided to trawl the cafés in Oslo every Tuesday
until he found the telephone pest. He knew the
police wouldn’t be bothered with such a trivial
matter, and he had not said anything to Signe in
case she tried to stop him. I had to bite the back
of my hand to stop myself from laughing out loud
and wished him luck, the old idiot.
After moving into the flat in Majorstuen I
haven’t seen much of Rakel, but we have talked
on the telephone. We both seem to have tired of
waging war now. I have given up explaining to
her what she did to me and her mother when she
married that Russian from the old family of
Bolsheviks.
‘I know you think it was betrayal,’ she says.
‘But it’s a long time ago now. Let’s not talk
about it any more.’
It is not a long time ago. Nothing is a long time
ago any more.
Oleg has asked after me. He is a fine boy, Oleg.
I only hope he doesn’t become obstinate and
wilful like his mother. She has that from Helena.
They are so similar that tears have come into my
eyes as I’m writing this.
I have borrowed Edvard’s chalet for next week.
I’ll test out the rifle then. Daniel will be happy.
Harry hit the kerb with the front wheels and the
impact recoiled through the car. The Escort leaped
inelegantly through the air and suddenly it was on
the grass. There were too many people on the path,
so Harry drove over the lawn. He lurched between
the lake and four young people who had decided to
have their breakfast on a blanket in the park. In the
mirror he saw the blue flashing light. The crowds
were already packed around the guardhouse, so
Harry stopped, jumped out of the car and ran
towards the barriers around the Palace Square.
‘Police!’ Harry shouted as he ploughed his way
through the crowds. Those at the front had got up at
the crack of dawn to ensure they had a good view
of the band and were reluctant to move. As he