take the risk, as it were, and stay here.’
‘ As it were? ’
Another crackle on the radio: ‘Post 62 to HQ.
There’s an unmarked car parked by the road two
hundred metres before the turn-off for Lørenskog.’
A deep voice with a Bergen accent answered
from HQ: ‘One moment, 62. We’ll look into it.’
Silence.
‘Did you check the toilets?’ Harry asked, nodding
towards the Esso station.
‘Yes, the petrol station has been cleared of all
customers and employees. Everyone except the
boss. We’ve locked him in his office.’
‘Toll booths as well?’
‘Done. Relax, Harry, all the checks have been
done. Yes, the ones that stay do so in the hope that
it will be a mild winter, right? That may be OK,
but if they’re wrong, they die. So why not head
south, just in case, you might be wondering. Are
they just lazy, the birds that stay?’
Harry looked in the mirror and saw the guards on
either side of the railway bridge. Dressed in black
with helmets and MP5 machine guns hanging
around their necks. Even from where he was he
could see the tension in their body language.
‘The point is that if it’s a mild winter, they can
choose the best nesting places before the others
return,’ Ellen said, while trying to stuff the thermos
into the already full glove compartment. ‘It’s a
calculated risk, you see. You’re either laughing all
over your face or you’re in deep, deep shit.
Whether to take the risk or not. If you take the
gamble, you may fall off the twig frozen stiff one
night and not thaw out till spring. Bottle it and you
might not have anywhere to nest when you return.
These are, as it were, the eternal dilemmas you’re
confronted with.’
‘You’ve got body armour on, haven’t you?’ Harry
twisted round to check. ‘Have you or haven’t you?’
She tapped her chest with her knuckles by way of
reply.
‘Lightweight?’
She nodded.
‘For fuck’s sake, Ellen! I gave the order for
ballistic vests to be worn. Not those Mickey
Mouse vests.’
‘Do you know what the Secret Service guys use?’
‘Let me guess. Lightweight vests?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Do you know what I don’t give a shit about?’
‘Let me guess. The Secret Service?’
‘That’s right.’
She laughed. Harry managed a smile too. There
was a crackle from the radio.
‘HQ to post 62. The Secret Service say it’s their
car parked on the turn-off to Lørenskog.’
‘Post 62. Message received.’
‘You see,’ Harry said, banging the steering wheel
in irritation, ‘no communication. The Secret
Service people do their own thing. What’s that car
doing up there without our knowledge? Eh?’
‘Checking that we’re doing our job,’ Ellen said.
‘According to the instructions they gave us.’
‘You’ll be allowed to make some decisions, so
stop grumbling,’ she said. ‘And stop that drumming
on the wheel.’
Harry’s hands obediently leapt into his lap. She
smiled. He let out one long stream of air: ‘Yeah,
yeah, yeah.’
His fingers found the butt of his service revolver,
a .38 calibre Smith & Wesson, six shots. In his belt
he had two additional magazines, each holding six
shots. He patted the revolver, knowing that, strictly
speaking, he wasn’t actually authorised to carry a
weapon. Perhaps he really was becoming short-
sighted; after the forty-hour course last winter he
had failed the shooting test. Although that was not
so unusual, it was the first time it had happened to
Harry and he didn’t like it at all. All he had to do
was take the test again – many had to take it four or
five times – but for one reason or another Harry
continued to put it off.
More crackling noises: ‘Passed point 28.’
‘One more point to go in the Romerike police
district,’ Harry said. ‘The next one is Karihaugen
and then it’s us.’
‘Why can’t they do it how we used to? Just say
where the motorcade is instead of all these stupid
numbers,’ Ellen asked in a grumbling tone.
‘Guess.’
They answered in unison: ‘The Secret Service!’
And laughed.
‘Passed point 29.’
He looked at his watch.
‘OK, they’ll be here in three minutes. I’ll change
the frequency on the walkie-talkie to Oslo police
district. Run the final checks.’
Ellen closed her eyes to concentrate on the
positive checks that came back one after the other.