The Redeemer(104)

The barman didn't answer.

'He was eleven when he died,' Harry said.

'I have no idea why you're telling me this, mister.'

'So that you understand why I'm going to sit here and wait until someone comes to help me.'

The barman nodded slowly. The question came lightning fast. 'What was your boy's name?'

'Oleg,' Harry said.

They stood facing each other. The barman screwed up one eye. Harry could feel his mobile phone vibrating in his pocket, but let it ring.

The barman rested his hand on the envelope and pushed it back to Harry. 'This is not necessary. What's your name and where are you staying?'

'I've come straight from the airport.'

'Write your name on this serviette and go to Balkan Hotel by the train station. Over the bridge and straight ahead. Wait in your room. Someone will contact you.'

Harry was about to say something, but the barman had turned back to the TV and resumed his commentary.

When he went outside, Harry saw he had a missed call from Halvorsen.


'Do vraga!' he groaned. Shit!

The snow in Gøteborggata looked like red sorbet.

He was confused. Everything had happened so fast. The last bullet which he had fired at the fleeing Jon Karlsen had hit the outside of the flat with a soft thud. Jon Karlsen had fled through the door and was gone. He crouched down and heard the bloodstained glass tear the material of his jacket pocket. The policeman was lying face down in the snow, which was drinking in the blood flowing from the slashes to his neck.

The gun, he thought, and grabbed the man's shoulder and turned him over. He needed a weapon to shoot with. A gust of wind blew the hair away from the unnaturally pale face. In haste, he searched through the coat pockets. The blood flowed and flowed, thick and red. He barely had time to sense the acidic taste of bile before his mouth was full. He turned, and the yellow contents of his stomach splashed over the blue ice. He wiped around his mouth. The trouser pockets. Found a wallet. Trouser waistband. For Christ's sake, cop, you must have a gun if you have to protect someone!

A car swung round the corner and came towards them. He took the wallet, stood up, crossed the road and began to walk. The car stopped. Mustn't run. He began to run.

He slipped on the pavement by the corner shop and landed on his hip, but was up in a second without feeling any pain. Headed for the park, the same way he went last time. This was a nightmare with an unending succession of meaningless events. Had he gone mad or were these things really happening? Cold air and bile stung his throat. He had reached Markveien when he heard the first police sirens. And he knew. He was frightened.





22

Friday, 19 December. The Miniatures.



THE POLICE STATION WAS LIT UP LIKE A CHRISTMAS TREE in the afternoon gloom. Inside, in Interview Room 2, Jon Karlsen sat with his head in his hands. On the other side of the small round table in the cramped room sat Officer Toril Li. Between them two microphones and the copy of the prime witness's statement. Through the window Jon could see Thea waiting for her turn in the adjacent room.

'So he attacked you, did he?' the policewoman said while reading the statement.

'The man with the blue jacket came running towards us with a gun.'

'And then?'

'It happened so fast. I was so frightened I can only remember fragments. Perhaps I've got concussion.'

'I see,' said Toril Li with an expression that bespoke the opposite. She glanced at the red light that told her the machine was still recording.

'But Halvorsen ran to the car?'

'Yes, his gun was there. I remember he put it in the centre console before we set out from Østgård.'

'And what did you do?'

'I was confused. At first I thought of hiding in the car, but then I changed my mind and ran to the front door of the nearby building.'

'And the gunman fired a shot at you?'

'I heard a bang, anyway.'

'Go on.'

'I made it inside and when I looked out he had attacked Halvorsen.'

'Who hadn't got into the car?'

'No. He had been complaining the door was stuck because of the cold.'

'And the man attacked Halvorsen with a knife, not a gun?'

'It looked like that from where I was standing. He jumped on Halvorsen from behind and stabbed him several times.'

'How many times?'

'Four or five. I don't know . . . I . . .'

'And then?'

'Then I ran down to the basement and called you on the emergency number.'

'But the gunman didn't go after you?'

'I don't know. The door was locked, wasn't it.'

'But he could have smashed the glass. I mean, he had already stabbed a policeman.'

'Yes, you're right. I don't know.'

Toril Li looked down at the statement. 'Vomit was found beside Halvorsen. We assume it belongs to the gunman, but can you confirm that?'

Jon shook his head. 'I stayed on the basement stairs until you came. Perhaps I ought to have helped . . . but I . . .'

'Yes?'

'I was scared.'