'He's either been given the sack or his wife's left him.'
'I haven't been given the boot yet. As far as I know.' Møller laughed. His shoulders shook, but no sound came out.
'Has Kari . . . ?' Harry stopped, not knowing quite how to formulate the words.
'She and the kids didn't come with me. That's OK. That was decided in advance.'
'What?'
'I miss the boys, of course I do. I'm managing though. This is just . . . what do they call it? . . . a passing phase . . . but there's a more elegant word . . . trans . . . no.' Bjarne Møller's head had sunk down over his glass.
'Let's go for a walk,' Harry said, waving his hand for the bill.
Twenty-five minutes later Harry and Bjarne Møller were standing in the same rain cloud by a railing on Fløien mountain, looking down on what might have been Bergen. A cable car sliced diagonally like a piece of cake and pulled by thick steel wires had transported them up from the town centre.
'Was that why you came here?' Harry asked. 'Because you and Kari were going to split up.'
'It rains here as much as they say,' Møller said.
Harry sighed. 'Drinking doesn't help, boss. Things get worse.'
'That's my line, Harry. How are you getting on with Gunnar Hagen?'
'OK. Good lecturer.'
'Don't make the mistake of underestimating him, Harry. He's more than a lecturer. Gunnar Hagen was in FSK for seven years.'
'Special Forces?' Harry asked in surprise.
'Indeed. I was told that by the Chief Superintendent. Hagen was redeployed in FSK in 1981 when the force was set up to protect our oil rigs in the North Sea. As it's secret service, it's never been on any CV.'
'FSK,' Harry said, conscious that the ice-cold rain was seeping through his jacket onto his shoulders. 'I've heard the loyalty there is uncommonly fierce.'
'It's like a brotherhood,' Møller said. 'Impenetrable.'
'Do you know anyone else who's been in it?'
Møller shook his head. He already looked sober. 'Anything new in the investigation? I've been given some insider information.'
'We don't even have a motive.'
'The motive's money,' Møller said, clearing his throat. 'Greed, the illusion that things will change if you have money. That you can change.'
'Money.' Harry looked at Møller. 'Maybe,' he demurred.
Møller spat with disgust into the grey soup in front of them. 'Find the money. Find the money and follow it. It will always lead you to the answer.'
Harry had never heard him talk like that before, not with this bitter certainty, as though he had an insight he would have preferred not to possess.
Harry breathed in and took the plunge. 'Boss, you know I don't like to beat about the bush, so here it is. You and I are the types of people who don't have many friends. And even though you may not regard me as a friend I am at any rate something of the kind.'
Harry watched Møller, but there was no response.
'I came here to find out whether there was anything I could do. Anything you wanted to talk about or . . .'
Still no response.
'Well, I'm buggered if I know why I came, boss. But I'm here now anyway.'
Møller leaned his head back to face the sky. 'Did you know that Bergensians call what's behind us mountains? And in fact they are. Real mountains. Six minutes on the cable car from the centre of the second biggest town in Norway there are people who get lost and die. Funny, isn't it.'
Harry shrugged.
Møller sighed. 'The rain's not going to stop. Let's take the tin can back down.'
At the bottom they walked to the taxi rank.
'It'll take twenty minutes to Flesland Airport now, before the rush hour,' Møller said.
Harry nodded and waited before he got in. His jacket was drenched.
'Follow the money,' Møller said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. 'Do whatever you have to do.'
'You too, boss.'
Møller raised a hand in the air and began to walk, but turned when Harry got into the taxi and shouted something that was drowned by the traffic. Harry switched on his mobile phone as they roared across Danmarks plass. A text message was waiting from Halvorsen telling him to ring back. Harry dialled the number.
'We've got Stankic's credit card,' Halvorsen said. 'The cash machine in Youngstorget ate it last night around twelve.'
'So that's where he was coming from when we raided the Hostel', Harry said.
'Yes'
'Youngstorget is a good distance from there,' Harry said. 'He must have gone there because he was frightened we would trace the card to somewhere near the Hostel. And it suggests he's in desperate need of money.'
'But it gets better,' Halvorsen said. 'The cash machine's under a surveillance camera of course.'
'Yeah?'
Halvorsen paused for effect.
'Come on,' Harry said. 'He doesn't hide his face, is that it?'
'He smiled straight into the camera like a film star,' Halvorsen said.
'Has Beate got the recording?'