The Redeemer(15)

'No reason to gawp, guys. Tom Waaler was an inspector with us in Crime Squad and dependent on his position to do what he was doing. He called himself the Prince and, as you know, . . .' Here Harry had paused while his gaze moved from face to face, stopping at the Chief Superintendent's. 'Where there's a prince, there's usually a king.'

'Hello, old boy. Lost in thought?'

Harry looked up. It was Halvorsen.

'Thinking about kings,' Harry mumbled, taking the cup of coffee that the young detective passed him.

'Well, there's the new guy,' Halvorsen said, pointing.

By the table of presents there was a man in a blue suit talking to the Chief Superintendent and Bjarne Møller.

'Is that Gunnar Hagen?' Harry said with coffee in his mouth. 'The new PAS?'

'They're not a Politiavdelingssjef any more, Harry.'

'No?'

'POB. Politioverbetjent. They changed the names of the ranks more than four months ago.'

'Is that so? I must have been sick that day. Are you still a police officer?'

Halvorsen smiled.

The new POB seemed agile, and younger than the fifty-three years it said he was in the memo. More medium-tall than tall, Harry noticed. And lean. The network of defined muscles in his face, around the jaw and down his neck suggested an ascetic lifestyle. His mouth was straight and firm and his chin stuck out in a way you could either designate determined or protruding. The little hair Hagen had was black and formed half a wreath around his pate; however, it was so thick and compact you might be forgiven for thinking the new POB had a rather eccentric choice of hairstyle. At any rate the enormous, demonic eyebrows boded well for the growing conditions of his body hair.

'Straight from the military,' Harry said. 'Perhaps he'll introduce reveille.'

'He was supposed to have been a good copper before switching pastures.'

'Judging from what he wrote about himself in the memo, you mean?'

'Nice to hear you being so positive, Harry.'

'Me? I'm always keen to give new people a fair chance.'

'A being the operative word,' Beate said, joining them. She flicked her short blonde hair to the side. 'I thought I saw you limping as you came in, Harry?'

'Met an overexcited guard dog down at the container terminal last night.'

'What were you doing there?'

Harry studied Beate before answering. The job of head in Brynsalléen had been good for her. And it had been good for Krimteknisk, too. Beate had always been a competent professional, but Harry had to admit he hadn't seen obvious leadership qualities in the self-effacing, shy young girl when she went to the Robberies Unit after Police Training College.

'Wanted to have a look-see at the container where Per Holmen was found. Tell me, how did he get into the area?'

'Cut the lock with wire cutters. They were beside him. And you? How did you get in?'

'What else did you find?'

'Harry, there is no suggestion that this is—'

'I'm not saying there is. What else?'

'What do you think? Tools of the trade, a dose of heroin and a plastic bag containing tobacco. You know, they poke the tobacco out of the dog-ends they pick up. And not one krone, of course.'

'And the Beretta?'

'The serial number has been removed, but the file marks are familiar. A gun from the days of the Prince.'

Harry had noticed that Beate refused to let the name of Tom Waaler pass her lips.

'Mm. Has the result for the blood sample arrived?'

'Yep,' she said. 'Surprisingly clean, hadn't shot up recently anyway. So conscious and capable of killing himself. Why do you ask?'

'I had the pleasure of communicating the news to the parents.'

'Ooooh,' Lønn and Halvorsen said in unison. It was happening more and more often even though they had been together for just two years.

The Chief Superintendent coughed and the gathering turned towards the table of presents and the chatter subsided.

'Bjarne has requested permission to say a word or two,' the Chief Superintendent said, rocking on his heels and pausing for effect. 'And permission was granted.'

Chuckles all round. Harry noticed Bjarne Møller's tentative smile to his superior officer.

'Thank you, Torleif. And thank you and the Chief Constable for my farewell present. And a special thank-you to all of you for the wonderful picture you have given me.'

He pointed to the table.

'Everyone?' Harry whispered to Beate.

'Yes. Skarre and a couple of others collected the money.'

'I didn't hear anything about that.'

'They might have forgotten to ask you.'

'Now I'll distribute a few presents of my own,' Møller said. 'From the deceased's estate, so to speak. First of all, there is this magnifying glass.'

He held it up in front of his face and the others laughed at the ex- PAS's distorted features.

'This goes to a girl who is every bit as good a detective and police officer as her father was. Who never takes the credit for her work, but prefers to let us shine in Crime Squad. As you know, she has been the subject of research by brain specialists as she is blessed with the very rare fusiform gyrus, which allows her to remember every single face she has seen.'