The Redeemer(127)

'The parents, Josef and Dorthe, have passports, renewed four years ago. We haven't issued a passport to Jon. And let's see . . . the machine's a bit slow today . . . there, yes. Robert Karlsen has a ten-year-old passport which will soon be invalid, so you can tell him to—'

'He's dead.'

Harry dialled Skarre's internal number and asked him to join him at once.

'Nothing,' said Skarre, who by chance or in a sudden fit of tact, sat on the edge of the desk instead of Halvorsen's chair. 'I've checked the Gilstrups' accounts and there is no link anywhere with Robert Karlsen or with Swiss bank accounts. The only unusual transaction was a cash withdrawal of five million kroner, in dollars, from one of the company accounts. I rang Albert Gilstrup and asked, and he said without any hesitation that they were the Christmas bonuses for the harbour masters in Buenos Aires, Manila and Bombay whom Mads visits in December. Quite a business those boys are in.'

'And Robert's account?'

'Incoming wages and minor outgoings throughout.'

'What about calls from the Gilstrups?'

'None to Robert Karlsen. But we came across something else while going through the itemised telephone bills. Guess who rang Jon Karlsen heaps of times and on occasion in the middle of the night?'

'Ragnhild Gilstrup,' Harry said, looking into Skarre's disappointed face. 'Anything else?'

'No,' Skarre said. 'Apart from a familiar number making an appearance. Mads Gilstrup rang Halvorsen the day he was attacked. Unanswered call.'

'I see,' Harry said. 'I want you to check one more account.'

'Whose?'

'David Eckhoff 's.'

'The commander? What shall I look for?'

'Don't quite know. Just do it.'

After Skarre had gone, Harry phoned Forensics. The female pathologist promised without any delay or fuss to fax a photograph of Christo Stankic's body for identification to a number at Hotel International in Zagreb.

Harry thanked her, put down the telephone and dialled the number of the same hotel.

'There's also the question of what to do with the body,' he said when he had been put through to Fred. 'The Croatian authorities don't know anything about a Christo Stankic and therefore have not requested his extradition.'

Ten seconds later he heard her schooled English.

'I would like to suggest another deal,' Harry said.


Klaus Torkildsen in Telenor Operations Centre for the Oslo region had one aim in life: to be left in peace. And since he was very overweight, always perspiring and for the most part grumpy, by and large his wish was fulfilled. With regard to the contact he was forced to have with others, he made sure there was maximum distance. That was why he sat alone a lot, enclosed in a room in the operations section with several hot machines and cooling fans where few, if any, knew exactly what he got up to; all they knew was that he was indispensable. The need for distance may also have been the motivation for him practising indecent exposure and thus on the odd occasion achieving satisfaction with a partner who was five to fifty metres away. However, Klaus Torkildsen's utmost desire was peace. And he had had enough hassle for this week. First it was that Halvorsen who wanted a line to a hotel in Zagreb monitored. Then Skarre needed a list of the conversations between a Gilstrup and a Karlsen. Both had referred to Harry Hole whom Klaus Torkildsen still owed a certain debt of gratitude. And that was the only reason he did not put down the telephone when Harry Hole himself called.

'There's something called the Police Answering Service,' Torkildsen said in a sulky tone. 'If you go by the book you should ring them if you need help.'

'I know,' Harry said. He didn't need to say any more. 'I've rung Martine Eckhoff four times without getting an answer,' Hole said. 'No one in the Salvation Army knows where she is, not even her father.'

'They're the last to know,' said Klaus, who knew nothing about that kind of thing, but it was the sort of knowledge you could acquire if you were a regular cinema-goer. Or, in Klaus Torkildsen's case, an extremely regular cinema-goer.

'She may have switched off her mobile, but I was wondering whether you could try to locate it for me. So that I know whether she's in town or not, at any rate.'

Torkildsen sighed. A pose, pure and simple, because he adored these little police jobs. Especially when they were of the shady variety.

'May I have her number?'

Fifteen minutes later Klaus rang back to say that her SIM card was definitely not in Oslo. Two base stations, both to the west of the E6 had received signals. He explained where the base stations were, and what range they had. As Hole thanked him and rang off at once, Klaus presumed he had been of some help and returned with relish to the day's cinema screening information.


Jon let himself into Robert's flat.

The walls still smelt of smoke, and there was a dirty T-shirt lying on the floor in front of the cupboard. As though Robert had been in and then popped out to the shop to buy coffee and cigarettes.