The Redbreast(173)

jumped over the barrier a guardsman tried to stop

him, but Harry put his hand to his side, flashed his

ID card and staggered on to the open square. The

gravel under his feet crunched. He turned his back

on the children’s procession, Slemdal kindergarten

and Vålerenga youth band, which was at that

moment filing under the Palace balcony, with the

royal family waving above them, to a terribly out

of tune rendition of ‘I’m Just a Gigolo’. He stared

at a wall of shiny, smiling faces and red, white and

blue flags. His eyes scanned the lines of people:

pensioners, photo-snapping uncles, fathers with

toddlers on their shoulders, but no Sindre Fauke.

No Gudbrand Johansen. No Daniel Gudeson.

‘Fuck! Fuck!’

He shouted more in panic than anything else.

But there, in front of the barriers, he at least saw

a face he knew. Working in civilian clothes, with a

walkie-talkie and reflector sunglasses. So he had

followed Harry’s advice about giving the

Scotsman a miss and supporting the fathers in the

police force.

‘Halvorsen!’

102

Oslo. 16 May 2000.

Oslo. 16 May 2000.

SIGNE IS DEAD. SHE WAS EXECUTED AS A TRAITOR

THREE DAYS ago, with a bullet through her false

heart. Having been with him for such a long time,

I wavered when Daniel left me after firing the

shot. He left me in lonely confusion. I allowed

doubts to creep in and had a terrible night. The

illness didn’t help. I took three of the pills Dr

Buer said I should take one of, but still the pain

was unbearable. I managed to sleep in the end

and the following day Daniel was back with

renewed vigour. That was the penultimate stage

and now we are boldly pressing on.

Join the circle of men round the fire, gaze at

torches so golden and bright,

urging soldiers to aim even higher, pledge

their beings to stand up and fight.

It is approaching, the day when the Great

Betrayal shall be avenged. I am undaunted.

The crucial thing is that the Betrayal will be

made public. If these memoirs are found by the

wrong people, there is a chance they will be

destroyed or kept secret out of concern for public

reactions. For safety’s sake, I have also given the

necessary clues to a young policeman in POT. It

remains to be seen how intelligent he is, but my

gut instinct is that he is at least a person with

integrity.

The last days have been dramatic.

It began on the day I determined I would settle

accounts with Signe. I had just phoned to say I

was coming for her and as I walked out of

Schrøder’s I saw Even Juul’s face through the

glass front of the coffee bar on the other side of

the street. I pretended I hadn’t seen him and

walked on, but I knew he would put two and two

together once he had thought things through.

Yesterday the policeman called on me. I didn’t

think the clues I had given him were so obvious

that he would understand how they fitted together

until the mission was complete. However, it

turned out he had followed the trail of Gudbrand

Johansen to Vienna. I knew I had to gain time, at

least forty-eight hours, so I told him a story

about Even Juul which I had dreamed up in case

precisely such a situation should arise. I told him

Even was a poor damaged soul and that Daniel

had taken up residence in him. Firstly, the story

would make it seem as if Juul was behind

everything, Signe’s killing too. Secondly, it would

make the suicide I had meanwhile planned for

Juul more credible.

When the policeman left, I set to work

immediately. Even Juul didn’t seem unduly

surprised when he opened the door today and

saw me on the step outside. I don’t know whether

he had worked it out or was simply no longer

capable of surprise. He already looked dead. I

held a knife to his throat and assured him that if

he made one false move I could slice him up just

as easily as I had done his dog. To make sure he

understood what I meant, I opened the bin bag I

had with me and showed him the animal. We went

upstairs to his bedroom where he readily allowed

me to place him on the chair. He tied the dog

lead to the ceiling hook.

‘I don’t want the police to have any more clues

until this is over, so we have to make this look

like suicide,’ I said. But he didn’t react, he

seemed indifferent. Who knows, perhaps I was

doing him a favour?

Afterwards, I wiped off my fingerprints and put

the bin bag containing

the dog in the freezer and the knives in the

cellar. Everything was in place and I was just

giving the bedroom a last check when I heard the

crunch of gravel and saw a police car in the

road. It was parked, as if it was waiting for

something. I knew I was in a tight corner.