evaluating whether they were case files which
should be passed up higher into the system.
Meirik’s instructions had been absolutely clear:
unless it was rubbish, everything should be passed
on. In other words, Harry’s job was to filter out the
dross. Last week, three reports had come in. He
had tried to read them slowly, but there were limits
to how long he could drag it out. One of the reports
was from Trondheim and dealt with the new
electronic monitoring equipment no one knew how
to operate, as their monitoring expert had left.
Harry passed it on. The second one concerned a
German businessman in Bergen whom they now
declared ‘not suspicious’ because he had
delivered the consignment of curtain rails he said
he was there to deliver. Harry passed that one on.
The third was from the Østland region, from the
police station in Skien. They had received some
complaints from chalet owners in Siljan who had
heard shooting the previous weekend. Since they
weren’t in the hunting season, an officer had gone
up to investigate and had found empty cartridges of
an unknown make in the woods. They had sent the
cartridges to the forensics department within
Kripos, the Norwegian CID, who had reported
back that the ammunition was probably for a
Märklin rifle, a very unusual weapon.
Harry had passed the report on, but not before
taking a copy for himself.
‘Right, what I wanted to talk to you about was a
poster that has come into our possession. Neo-
Nazis are planning to kick up a fuss outside
mosques in Oslo on 17 May. There is some
movable Muslim feast which falls on the
seventeenth this year, and a great many foreign
parents are refusing to allow their children to take
part in the children’s Independence Day parade
because they want them to go to the mosque.’
‘Eid.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Eid. Their holy day. It’s the Muslims’ Christmas
Eve.’
‘So you’re into this stuff ?’
‘No, but I was invited to a dinner by my
neighbour last year. They’re Pakistani. They
thought it was so sad for me to sit alone on Eid.’
‘Really? Hm.’ Meirik put on his Oberinspektor
Derrick glasses. ‘I’ve got the poster here. They
write that it is an insult to your host country to
celebrate anything other than Norwegian
Independence Day on 17 May. And they say that
blacks are happy to claim benefits, but shirk every
single Norwegian citizen’s obligation.’
‘To be obedient and shout “Hurrah” for Norway
as the parade goes by,’ Harry said, pulling out his
pack of cigarettes. He had noticed the ashtray on
top of the bookcase and Meirik nodded in response
to Harry’s enquiring glance. Harry lit up, drew the
smoke deep into his lungs and tried to imagine the
blood vessels in the lung wall greedily absorbing
the nicotine. Life was becoming shorter and the
thought that he would never stop smoking filled
him with a strange satisfaction. Ignoring the
warning on the cigarette packet might not be the
most flamboyant act of rebellion a man could
allow himself, but at least it was one he could
afford.
‘See what you can find out,’ Meirik said. ‘Fine,
but I warn you I have a short fuse where skinheads
are concerned.’
‘Heh, heh.’ Meirik showed his large yellow teeth
again and Harry realised what he reminded him of:
a dressage horse.
‘Heh, heh.’
‘There was another thing,’ Harry said. ‘It’s about
the report on the ammunition found in Siljan. It’s
for a Märklin rifle.’
‘I have a vague recollection of hearing something
about that, yes.’
‘I’ve been doing a bit of checking of my own.’
‘Oh?’
Harry picked up on the chill tone.
‘I checked the National Firearms Registry for last
year. No Märklin rifles have been registered in
Norway.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me. The list must already
have been checked by people here after you passed
on the report, Hole. Not your job, you know.’
‘Perhaps not. But I wanted to be sure that
whoever was dealing with it followed up
Interpol’s reports on arms smuggling.’
‘Interpol? Why should we do that?’
‘No one is importing these rifles into Norway, so
this one has been smuggled in.’
Harry took a print-out from his breast pocket.
‘This is a copy of a list of consignments Interpol
found during a raid on an illegal arms dealer in
Johannesburg in November. Look here. A Märklin
rifle. And there’s the destination, Oslo.’
‘Hm. Where did you get hold of this?’