Edvard Mosken had reacted furiously to the
question about his son. Harry made up his mind to
find out more about who the judge in the Mosken
trial had been. Then he took a last look at
Drammen in the mirror. Of course there were
worse towns.
47
Ellen’s Office. 7 March 2000.
ELLEN HADN’T MANAGED TO COME UP WITH
ANYTHING.
Harry had wandered down to her office and sat in
her creaky old office chair. They had recruited a
new man, a young policeman from the station in
Steinkjer, and he would be here in a month’s time.
‘I’m not clairvoyant,’ she said on seeing Harry’s
disappointed face. ‘And I checked with the others
at the morning meeting today, but no one had heard
of the Prince.’
‘What about the Firearms Registry? They ought to
have some idea about arms smugglers.’
‘Harry!’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t work for you any longer.’
‘ For me?’
‘ With you, then. It’s just that it felt like I was
working for you. Bully.’ Harry shoved himself off
with his foot and span round on the swivel chair.
Four complete turns. He had never managed more.
Ellen rolled her eyes.
‘OK, so I rang the Firearms Registry too,’ she
said. ‘They hadn’t heard of the Prince, either. Why
don’t they give you an assistant up in POT?’
‘The case doesn’t have high priority. Meirik lets
me get on with it, but actually he wants me to
discover what the neo-Nazis are planning to do on
Eid.’
‘One of the cues was “arms freaks”. I can hardly
imagine bigger arms freaks than the neo-Nazis.
Why not start there and kill two birds with one
stone?’
‘I wondered about that myself.’
48
Café Ryktet, Grensen. 7 March 2000.
EVEN JUUL WAS STANDING ON THE STEPS AS HARRY
PULLED up in front of his house.
Burre stood beside him, pulling at his lead.
‘That was quick,’ Juul said.
‘I got into the car as soon as I put down the
phone,’ Harry said. ‘Is Burre coming too?’
‘I was just taking him for a little walk while I
waited. Go inside, Burre.’ The dog looked up at
Juul with pleading eyes. ‘Now!’
Burre jumped backwards and scurried in. Harry
also recoiled at the sudden command.
‘Let’s go,’ Juul said.
Harry caught a glimpse of a face behind the
kitchen curtains as they drove away.
‘It’s getting lighter,’ Harry said. ‘Is it?’
‘The days are, I mean. They’re longer now.’
Juul nodded without answering.
‘There’s one thing I’ve been wondering about a
bit,’ Harry said. ‘Sindre Fauke’s family, how did
they die?’
‘I’ve told you already. He killed them.’
‘Yes, but how?’
Even Juul stared at Harry before answering.
‘They were shot. Through the head.’
‘All four?’
‘Yes.’
Eventually they found a car park in Grensen and
from there they walked to the place Juul had
insisted on showing Harry when they had talked on
the telephone.
‘So, this is Ryktet then,’ Harry said on entering
the poorly lit, almost empty café with only a few
people sitting round well-worn plastic tables.
Harry and Juul got themselves a coffee and sat at
one of the window tables. Two elderly men further
back in the room stopped speaking and scowled at
them.
‘Reminds me of a café I go to sometimes,’ Harry
said, inclining his head towards the two old men.
‘The old incorrigibles,’ Juul said. ‘Old Nazis and
Eastern Front types who still think they were right.
Here they sit pouring out their bitterness against the
great betrayal, the Nygaardsvold government and
the general state of things in the world. Those of
them who still have breath in their bodies, at least.
The ranks are thinning, I can see.’
‘Still politically committed?’
‘Oh, yes, they’re still angry. At Third World aid,
cuts in the defence budget, women priests,
marriages for homosexuals, our new countrymen,
all the things you would guess would upset these
old boys. In their hearts they’re still fascists.’
‘And you think Uriah might frequent this place?’
‘If Uriah is on some kind of crusade of vengeance
against society, he would certainly find like-
minded people here. Naturally, there are other
meeting places for the ex-Eastern Front comrades,
yearly gatherings here in Oslo, for example, for
comrades-in-arms and others from all over the
country. But those meetings are of a completely
different order from the ones at this watering hole