Rakel and Harry looked at each other.
‘We have,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think we got as
far as exchanging names.’
She extended her hand with a slightly angled
wrist, which once again made him think of piano
and ballet lessons.
‘Harry Hole,’ he said.
‘Aha,’ she said.‘Of course you are. From Crime
Squad, isn’t that right?’
‘Right.’
‘I didn’t realise you were the new inspector in
POT when we met. Had you said that then . . .’
‘Then what?’ Harry asked.
She cocked her head to one side. ‘Yes, then
what?’ She laughed. Her laughter forced the idiotic
word to pop up into Harry’s brain again:
ravishing.
‘Then at least I would have told you that we work
in the same place,’ she said. ‘I don’t usually tell
people what I do for a living. You get so many
strange questions. I’m sure it’s the same for you.’
‘Yes, of course.’
She laughed again. Harry wondered what it
would take to make her laugh like that all the time.
‘How is it I haven’t seen you in POT before?’ she
asked.
‘Harry’s office is down at the end of the
corridor,’ Kurt Meirik said.
‘Aha.’ She nodded as if she understood, still with
the sparkling smile in her eyes. ‘The office right at
the end, really?’
Harry inclined his head gloomily. ‘Yes, well,’
Meirik said. ‘So now you’ve been introduced. We
were on our way to the bar, Harry.’
Harry waited for the invitation. It didn’t come.
‘Talk to you later,’ Meirik said.
Understandable, Harry thought. The head of POT
and the inspector probably had lots of collegial
boss-to-subordinate backslaps to give tonight. He
leaned against the loudspeaker, but cast a furtive
glance after them. She had recognised him. She had
remembered that they hadn’t exchanged names. He
downed his beer in one draught. It tasted of
nothing.
Waaler slammed the door after him.
‘No one has seen, talked to or ever heard of
Ayub,’ he said. ‘Drive.’
‘Right,’ Ellen said, checked the mirror and swung
out from the kerb. ‘You’ve begun to like Prince,
too, I hear.’
‘Have I?’
‘You turned up the volume while I was away,
anyway.’
‘Oh.’ She had to ring Harry.
‘Is something the matter?’
Ellen stared rigidly ahead of her, at the wet black
tarmac glistening in the light from the street lamps.
‘The matter? What could be the matter?’
‘I don’t know. You look as if something has
happened to you.’
‘Nothing has happened, Tom.’
‘Did anyone ring? Hey!’ Tom stiffened in his seat
and placed both palms firmly on the dashboard.
‘Didn’t you see that car or what?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Shall I take over?’
‘Driving? Why?’
‘Because you’re driving like a . . .’
‘Like a what?’
‘Forget it. I asked if anyone had rung.’
‘No one rang, Tom. If anyone had rung, I would
have said, wouldn’t I?’
She had to ring Harry. Quick. ‘Why did you turn
off my mobile?’
‘What?’ Ellen eyed him aghast. ‘Keep your eyes
on the road, Gjelten. I asked: Why —’
‘No one rang. You must have switched off the
phone yourself.’ Unconsciously, her voice had
risen. She heard it screech in her own ears.
‘OK, Gjelten,’ he said. ‘Relax, I was just
wondering.’
Ellen tried to do as he instructed. Breathing
evenly and concentrating on the traffic in front of
her. She took a left off the roundabout down Vahls
gate. Saturday evening, but the streets in this part
of town were practically deserted. The lights were
green. To the right along Jens Bjelkes gate. Left,
down Tøyengata. Into the Police HQ car park. She
could feel Tom’s eyes studying her the whole way.
Harry hadn’t looked at his watch once since
meeting Rakel Fauke. He had even joined Linda
for a round of introductions to some of his
colleagues. The conversation had been stiff. They
asked him what his position was, and once he
answered the conversation petered out. Probably
an unwritten rule in POT that you mustn’t ask too
much. Or they didn’t give a toss. Fair enough, he
wasn’t particularly interested in them either. He
had resumed his position by the speaker. He had
seen a glimpse of her red dress a couple of times.
As far as he could judge, she was circulating and
didn’t spend much time with anyone. She hadn’t