‘The Interpol file on the Net. Available to anyone
in POT. Anyone who can be bothered.’
‘Really?’ Meirik’s gaze settled on Harry for a
moment before scrutinising the print-out more
closely.
‘This is all very well, but arms smuggling is not
our business, Hole. If you knew how many illegal
weapons the police confiscate in the course of one
year —’
‘Six hundred and eleven,’ Harry said.
‘Is that so?’
‘Last year. And that’s just the police authority in
Oslo. Two out of three are taken off criminals,
mainly small arms, pump guns and sawnoff
shotguns. On average one gun is confiscated every
day. In the nineties the number almost doubled.’
‘Fine, so you understand that we in POT cannot
prioritise an unregistered rifle in Buskerud.’
Meirik was struggling to maintain his composure.
Harry exhaled smoke through his mouth and
studied it as it rose to the ceiling.
‘Siljan isn’t in Buskerud,’ he said.
Meirik’s jaw muscles were working hard.
‘Have you rung Customs & Excise, Hole?’
‘No.’
Meirik looked at his watch, a lumpen, inelegant
steel job Harry guessed he had been given for long
and faithful service.
‘Then I suggest you do. This is a case for them.
Right now I have more pressing —’
‘Do you know what a Märklin rifle is, Meirik?’
Harry watched the POT boss’s eyebrows jump up
and down and wondered if it was already too late.
He could feel the swish of the windmills.
‘Not my business, either, by the way, Hole.
You’d better take this up with . . .’
Kurt Meirik suddenly seemed to realise that he
was Hole’s only line manager.
‘A Märklin rifle,’ Harry said, ‘is a German semi-
automatic hunting rifle which uses 16 mm bullets,
bigger than those of any other rifle. It is intended
for use on big game hunts, such as for water
buffalo or elephants. The first rifle was made in
1970, but only three hundred were made before the
German authorities banned the sale of the weapon
in 1973. The reason was that the rifle is, with a
couple of simple adjustments and Märklin
telescopic sights, the ultimate professional murder
weapon, and it had already become the world’s
most sought after assassination weapon by 1973.
Of the three hundred rifles at least one hundred fell
into the hands of contract killers and terrorist
organisations like Baader Meinhof and the Red
Brigade.’
‘Hm. Did you say one hundred?’ Meirik passed
the print-out back to Harry. ‘That means that two
out of three use the gun for what it was intended.
Hunting.’
‘This is not a weapon for hunting elk or any other
kind of hunting common in Norway.’
‘Really? Why not?’
Harry wondered what it was that held Meirik
back. Why didn’t he ask him to finish his cigarette
and go? And why was he himself so keen to
provoke such a reaction? Perhaps it was nothing,
perhaps he was just getting old and grumpy.
Whatever it was, Meirik was behaving like a well-
paid childminder who didn’t dare touch the brat.
Harry observed the long column of ash bending
towards the floor.
‘First of all, hunting is not a millionaire’s sport in
Norway. A Märklin rifle with telescopic sights
costs around 150,000 Deutschmarks – in other
words, the same as a new Mercedes. And every
cartridge costs 90 Deutschmarks. Secondly, an elk
hit by a 16 mm bullet looks as if it has been in a
collision with a train. A pretty messy business.’
‘Heh, heh.’ Meirik had obviously decided to
change tactics. Now he was leaning back with his
hands behind his shiny pate, as a sign that he
wouldn’t mind Hole entertaining him for a while
yet. Harry stood up, took the ashtray down from the
top shelf and returned to his seat.
‘Of course the cartridges may belong to some
fanatical arms collector who has tested out his new
rifle and now keeps it hanging in a glass showcase
in a big house somewhere in Norway, never to be
used again. But dare we assume that?’ Harry shook
his head. ‘I suggest I take a trip up to Skien and
have a peep at this place. Besides, I doubt that it
was a pro up there.’
‘Really?’
‘Pros clean up after themselves. Leaving empty
cartridges is like leaving a business card. But if
it’s an amateur with a Märklin rifle, that doesn’t
make me feel any more reassured.’
Meirik uttered a few hmm-sounds. Then he
nodded. ‘Fine. And keep me posted if you find out
anything about the Independence Day plans of our
neo-Nazis.’