by Rick Acker
Elena had just gotten back from her daily ten-kilometer run and was cooling off in her room when there was a knock at her door. She looked through the peephole to see who it was. Noelle. She opened the door. “Hi. Did Ben call?”
“He did. He and Sergei just got in. They’ll be here in about half an hour.”
“Great. How was their flight?”
“Pretty good. I think they’re going to get unpacked here and then head out to dinner. I suggested that seafood place down at Aker Brygge.”
“You’re not going to have dinner with Ben?”
Noelle shook her head. “I’ll see him when they get in, and then after they get back from dinner. Besides, we didn’t want to leave Sergei on his own on his first evening in Oslo, and we thought it might be awkward for you and Sergei if we all went out together.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” replied Elena with practiced nonchalance, “but I think you’re right about Sergei. The last time I saw him, we broke up in a restaurant and I walked out on him. That can’t have been easy for him. I don’t want his first evening here ruined by having to see me again across a restaurant table.”
“That might bring up some bad memories, huh?” said Noelle.
“It might. It’s better that we see each other tomorrow morning. He’ll be focused on work, which should make it easier for him.”
“Yeah. So, what do you want to do for dinner? Want to try that French place in the Oslo City building?”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
After Noelle left, Elena sat on the edge of her bed, cooling off after her run. Her mind kept replaying the lunch at Star of Siam when she and Sergei had broken up. She’d already gone over it in her head hundreds of times in the nearly three months since it happened, analyzing and weighing everything each of them had said, every gesture and expression. There was really no reason for her to think about it anymore, but it took an effort not to.
She sighed and forced herself to think about her visit to the Munch Museum that afternoon. Sergei was history, but he was recent history. In a few more months, she’d be dating someone else and Sergei would be a faint memory. In the meantime, all she could do was push him out of her thoughts whenever she found him there.
She was about to go take a shower when there was another knock on the door. She glanced through the peephole. It was Noelle again. “Hi. What’s up?” Elena asked when she opened the door.
“Well, uh, Ben called me again. Sergei says he has no problem having dinner with us. He suggested that all four of us have dinner at Lekter’n.”
“Ben suggested it?”
“Sergei suggested it,” Noelle clarified.
“He did? Oh.”
“I thought Sergei was just being polite, but Ben said he seemed to really mean it. I told Ben I’d talk to you and get back to him. So, what do you think?”
Elena shrugged. “If Sergei is okay with it, I certainly am. Did you guys set a time?”
“No. How about eight o’clock?”
“Perfect. I’ll come over to your room at seven forty-five.”
As soon as Noelle was gone, Elena took a quick shower and shaved her legs while mentally scheduling the remaining time before dinner. It was 5:40 when she got out of the shower. She could be at the Oslo City shopping center by 6:15. She would need to buy a new outfit. She had a suit that would be fine for tomorrow, but other than that she had mostly casual pants, tops, and shoes—the sorts of things that traveled well and were comfortable to wear while walking around museums and sculpture gardens, but were entirely inadequate for dinner with an ex-boyfriend.
She looked at herself critically in the mirror as she blow-dried her hair. She had spent a fair amount of time outdoors while in Norway and had gotten a light tan, which was good. However, she was about a month overdue for a haircut, which was bad. She debated whether she should try to get an appointment with a stylist before dinner. She decided against it. The last thing she wanted was to have a stylist she’d never met before butcher her hair. Besides, Sergei liked her with long hair.
Two busy hours later, Elena stood in front of the mirror again, making a last-minute assessment. She had found a sweater, slacks, and scarf to create an outfit that complemented her slender figure and long legs without being racy. The black fabric of the scarf also provided a nice contrast to her blonde hair, which hung a few inches below her shoulders. She wore it in a simple, straight style that was partially pulled back in an onyx-embossed hair clip. It had turned out pretty well, though she definitely would have to get it cut when she got back home.
She took a deep breath and walked next door to Noelle’s room. She knocked and Ben opened the door. “Hey, Elena. It’s good to see you.”
“Hi, Ben!” she replied as she gave him a polite hug. She glanced over his shoulder and saw Sergei standing a few feet behind. “Hi, Sergei!” she said and hugged him too, making sure to use exactly the same tone and platonic embrace she had used with Ben.
“Hello, Elena,” Sergei said. “I’m glad you could make it for dinner.”
The four of them went down to the lobby and caught a cab to Lekter’n. It was not as crowded as it had been when Noelle and Elena ate there on their first night in Norway, so they were able to get a table right on the water. A brisk breeze blew across the harbor, ridden by seagulls that floated over the choppy sea a few feet from the edge of the restaurant. They hung virtually motionless in the air as they scanned for herring in the waters below or scraps dropped by diners. Elena watched for a moment, marveling at their ability to seemingly levitate with only the occasional flick of a feather. She turned back to the rest of the group and caught Sergei looking at her, though he instantly dropped his eyes to his menu.
After a few minutes of catching-up small talk, Ben said, “So tell me more about what you’ve found at Bjornsen Norge. Based on the little bit you gave me on the phone, it sounds like you’ve come across some interesting stuff in the past couple of days.”
Noelle nodded. “I’ve been going through their expense-account backup, and I’ve been coming across some questionable entries—trips to ski resorts for directors of the parent company, art purchases that seem to have been delivered to the homes of major shareholders, and things like that. The supporting documents aren’t all in one place, of course. They’re scattered through the files and they’ve been disguised as routine business expenses in many cases, so finding them is a lot of work.” She turned to Sergei. “By the way, thanks for coming over to help, Sergei. Henrik Haugeland has been working with me, but we really need someone else with experience reviewing financial documents and a good feel for when something in them isn’t right.”
“I only have a couple of days before I have to go back,” he replied, “but in the meantime I’m happy to do what I can.”
“I’d also love to help, of course,” said Elena, “but unfortunately, I’ve never handled any financial-fraud cases.”
“That really is unfortunate,” commented Sergei with a smile. “You know, I think I still have enough pull at the Bureau that I might be able to do something about that. Do you want me to give your supervisor a call and see if he’ll put you on a nice, big bank investigation with whole servers full of financial documents for you to look at? You’ll be an expert in financial fraud by the time you’re done.”
Elena shook her head. “That’s okay. I don’t have your tolerance for danger and excitement. I’d burn out after a week.”
Sergei raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You’ll never know what you’re missing.”
“It takes a special kind of courage to do document review in a financial case,” said Ben, patting Noelle’s hand.
The waitress arrived with their food. After she left, Ben asked, “So, honey, what else have you found on your expeditions into the dark wilds of Bjornsen Norge’s accounting files?”
“I’m pretty sure the money from that Cleverlad account has been going straight to the expense account to cover those questionable expenses. I’ll need to track d
own more of the expenses to be sure the numbers add up, but it’s looking that way so far.”
“And let me guess: the directors and shareholders who went on ski trips and got art and so on all voted to kick out Gunnar.”
“Yep.”
“What a coincidence.” He paused. “Why wouldn’t Karl just bribe these guys out of his own pocket? Why do it through the company where he’d have to leave a paper trail?”
“He’d also leave a paper trail if he did it on his own nickel,” Sergei said. “One of the first things the Bureau does in a fraud investigation is get the target’s bank and credit-card records. That’s usually where the most obvious dirt is. This guy is not only keeping his records clean, he’s keeping the records of his main company clean. We had to go all the way to Norway to figure out what he’s been up to, and we only knew to make the trip because his brother happened to have a document in his files that pointed us here. If he was going to commit bribery, this wasn’t a bad strategy.”
“Plus it saved him about six million dollars,” added Noelle.
“That too,” agreed Sergei.
“I’ll need to put someone on the stand to testify about what you’ve found,” said Ben. “Haugeland sounds like a natural choice. Is his English as good as advertised?”
“It is,” replied Noelle. “He’s fluent. He’s got an accent, of course, but he’s completely understandable.”
“Good,” Ben said. “Do you think he’d be willing to come to America to testify?”
Noelle took a bite of her grilled salmon and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I haven’t asked him, but I think he would.”
Ben looked at her in surprise. “Really? I hope you’re right. It’s one thing for him to give us quiet access to the company’s records and explain some stuff to us off the record. Flying to America and testifying under oath that his boss has been committing fraud is something else, particularly since that boss is likely to be right there in the courtroom with him.”
“That’s true,” said Elena, “but I’m sure that if Henrik thought that testifying was the right thing to do, he would do it, even if it meant personal sacrifice.”
“That’s quite an endorsement,” responded Ben. “How do you know that?”
“Henrik Haugeland is a remarkable person,” she replied. “I don’t know if Noelle told you, but he and his wife adopted eight Russian street children because they thought it was the right thing to do. If he was willing to do that, I’m pretty sure he’d be willing to fly to Chicago and face Karl Bjornsen in a courtroom.”
“I wish more people thought that was the right thing to do—and were willing to actually do it,” Sergei said. “Adopting street kids, I mean. My cousin is a street cop in Moscow, and she has to deal with these kids all the time. A lot of them have virtually no education and have all sorts of problems—health issues, addiction issues, behavior issues. She says the worst part of her job is seeing some nine- or ten-year-old on a street corner and knowing that there’s basically no hope for him or her. Their lives have already been destroyed. What inspired a couple of Norwegians to take in kids like that—eight of them, no less?”
“Love,” replied Elena. “They have a lot of love for these children, and it’s amazing how it turns their lives around.”
Sergei leaned forward slightly and the late-evening sun glowed in his dark-brown eyes. “The kids’ lives or the Haugelands’?”
“Both, really. They are an amazing couple. I think you’d enjoy meeting them and seeing them with the two children they still have at home.”
“I’d like to,” said Sergei. “By the way, I’d heard that they were Christian. Did that come up?”
“I think they said something about that.” There was a brief pause in the conversation, and Elena realized that all three of them were watching her. “You know, one of the things I like about religion—um, particularly Christianity—is that it encourages people to help those who are less fortunate, like those Russian street kids. That’s a great teaching. I wish more people took it to heart.”
“Mm-hmm,” Noelle said, but no one else said anything.
“It’s, um, really great to meet people who take their beliefs seriously,” Elena continued awkwardly. “They remind me of my Aunt Darya—you met her, Sergei. She was one of the first real environmentalists in the old Soviet Union. She was always bugging the local officials to stop dumping untreated sewage and chemical-plant waste into the river near her hometown. When they wouldn’t listen to her, she personally marched up to the mayor while Gorbachev was visiting and dumped a bucket of river sludge on the floor right in front of them. She said, ‘This is what you’re doing to our beautiful river!’ She went to jail for that, but the mayor was so embarrassed that he cleaned up the river before another national leader came to town. People like her and the Haugelands really make a difference. They make me want to find a cause I care about and make the world a better place.”
Sergei leaned back in his chair, and for an instant Elena thought she saw something like regret in his eyes. Or was it disappointment? But he smiled and said, “I remember Aunt Darya. She is an impressive woman, and a powerful conversationalist.”
Elena chuckled. “She likes to talk,” she explained to Ben and Noelle. “Sergei spent three hours in her apartment last summer while my mother and I went to visit a sick relative.” She turned back to Sergei. “She really liked you, by the way. You listen well.”
The conversation moved off into anecdotes about colorful relatives and then on to other topics. The sun sank behind the shops of Aker Brygge as the four friends talked and laughed. The awkwardness and coldness that Elena had half expected to exist between her and Sergei never appeared. In fact, quite the opposite; he was as funny and easy to talk to as ever. It felt as if they had never been apart. There was no overt romance between them, of course, but Elena wondered what would happen if they wound up alone together at some point over the next couple of days.
After a round of coffee drinks, they paid the check and headed back to the hotel. They chatted for a moment more in the lobby beside the elevators, and then Ben said, “Well, I think I’m going to head back to our room and do a little more work on my interview outline for Henrik Haugeland. Would you mind looking it over, sweetheart? You know him and I don’t.”
“Sure,” replied Noelle. “Do I get a backrub while I’m reading?”
Ben grinned. “You drive a hard bargain.” He pushed the “Up” button on the elevator call panel. “Have a good night, guys,” he said to Sergei and Elena as the doors opened. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Elena glanced at Sergei and he looked back at her. He stifled a yawn. “I think I’m going to turn in. I had a rough flight and I’m beat.”
“Me too,” said Elena. “I’ve had a busy day.” They joined the Corbins in the elevator and they all rode up in silence.
Ben was in a good mood the next afternoon. Haugeland would make a good witness. He knew Bjornsen Norge’s accounting system extremely well and took the same view of what they had found in its files that Noelle had expressed at dinner. At least as important, he was an unbiased and articulate witness with no ax to grind. Bert Siwell would have a hard time undermining his credibility at trial. Best of all, he was willing to come to Chicago to tell his story to a jury.
Ben had already sent a quick e-mail report to Gunnar, who would still have been fast asleep when the interview ended, and now he sat with Noelle at an outdoor cafe on Karl Johans, Oslo’s main street and a popular tourist destination. Slottet, the main royal palace, stood at one end of the street, and the Storting, or parliament building, stood at the other. A popular park ran along one side of Karl Johans, and dozens of shops, restaurants, and cafes lined the other. Ben and Noelle both ordered some strong, black Norwegian coffee and enjoyed watching the crowds stroll past.
Noelle had just started plotting what to do with Sergei and Elena, both of whom were safely away doing other things, but Ben’s cell phone rang. He looked at the numbe
r on the screen and took the call. “Hello, Gunnar. Did you get my e-mail?”
“I just read it over breakfast,” Gunnar’s voice rumbled over the phone. “That’s good news about Henrik. I’m glad that he’s able to help, but your e-mail isn’t the reason I called. I received another e-mail this morning, this one from Finn Sørensen. Have I ever told you about him?”
“I don’t think so. Who is he?”
“He’s a botanist at the University of Oslo and an old friend. He is the scientist who first studied the plant from which we make XD-463. He’s also the one who first told me about it and helped my company buy some seeds from the Norwegian government.
“He wrote to tell me that a research team has found the cave that held the original seeds and leaves. He says it’s not too far from Oslo and is worth a trip. An archaeological team from the University of Oslo is getting ready to study it right now. Since Dr. Sørensen knows them, he volunteered to cut through some red tape and arrange a guided tour for me. But since I won’t be in Norway in the next week, I thought you might want to go, if you have time. You really shouldn’t leave Norway without taking at least one hike in the mountains.”
“It would be like visiting France without touring at least one winery, wouldn’t it?” replied Ben. “Let me check with Noelle.” He covered the mouthpiece on his phone and said, “They’ve found the mountain cave where the Neurostim plants came from, and Gunnar’s offered to arrange a tour for us. What do you think?”
“I’ve done plenty of sightseeing already, but you go ahead. I need to spend a few hours number crunching and organizing what I’ve found so far, so you’ll be on your own for a while tomorrow anyway.”
Ben nodded and uncovered the mouthpiece. “Sure, I’d love to. How’s tomorrow?”
“I’ll e-mail and ask. I’ll also give him your cell-phone number so that you can talk directly.”