The Oslo Conspiracy

by Asle Skredderberget

They went through the mandatory introductory questions about common acquaintances, and the kind of work they did. Anja Nyhagen was a trained physician, but specialized in sports and nutrition and now had the title of sports professor.

  “It actually sounds like a contradiction, sports professor. But I am a kind of body expert, you might say,” she said, sipping her wine carefully. “And now you want to talk about doping, right?”

  Milo nodded.

  “Steroids. Growth hormones. Anything you can tell me about their use, and possibly if you know how they end up in the gyms. If you know, that is,” he said.

  “Oh yes. I know. I know all about that. But I think you need to have a couple of things clear first. Steroids and growth hormones are not solely for the monkeys who hide in the gyms.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Today there are about a hundred thousand Norwegians who use these types of preparations in one form or another. And not all of them are beefcakes who pump iron.”

  “Who are they, then?”

  “All types. Attorneys, doctors, dentists, financial advisers, businessmen.”

  “I see,” Milo answered skeptically.

  “You don’t seem convinced.”

  “Well, I know some of the groups you mention, and I’ve never met anyone who uses steroids,” he answered.

  She took another sip, and looked around demonstratively.

  “You have to take the search for perfection as a starting point. You’re probably familiar with that. And so surely you’re familiar with how willing people are to use any means to reach their goals?”

  She talked with engagement, and a lock of hair fell down on her forehead. She stroked her hand through her hair and fastened it behind one ear.

  “I’ve probably come in contact with a few examples of that, sure,” Milo answered.

  “It’s no different where the body is concerned. The search for perfection and the lack of barriers in the means employed,” she began.

  She talked about how the limits for what is morally defensible are constantly in motion. How what was considered too far over the line ten years ago, might be just fine today for most people.

  “Morality is not anything absolute,” she said.

  “Isn’t it? I thought that’s exactly what it was,” answered Milo.

  She shook her head.

  “For the vast majority the boundaries are fluid and in motion. Viewed that way you’re an uncommon guy if you operate with absolute morality.”

  “Absolute morality is perhaps taking it a bit far. But give me some examples.”

  “Okay, take medications as an example, then. Twenty years ago we took one Dispril a year. Today we swallow pain relievers at the first opportunity. As an extreme example.”

  “Is that morally objectionable?”

  “No, but the boundary for what is acceptable shifts. Do you race in the Birkebeiner?”

  He smiled scornfully.

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. But there are thousands who do.”

  “Is that morally objectionable, then?” Milo repeated.

  She laughed out loud. A short, rippling laugh that tickled him in his belly and raised smiles at the next table.

  “No, of course not. But I promise you that there the boundaries are shifting.”

  “How, then?”

  She told about how for a long time she had tried to conduct doping tests in the popular skiing competitions and cycle races, but was stopped by the organizers. For that reason she shifted to interviewing selected participants. Over a hundred personal interviews, and under the promise of anonymity they had confirmed her assumptions.

  “There are people who spend thousands of kroner on a gram of miracle powder to put under their skis. They are equipment fanatics. And don’t shun ingesting performance-enhancing substances.”

  “Such as?”

  “Tablets for joint pain. Capsules for better heart rhythm. Ampoules for increased muscle mass.”

  He rotated what was left of the wine in his glass.

  “Interesting. So the Birkebeiners are actually a gang of drug addicts?” he asked.

  Once again the contagious laughter.

  “Not exactly drug addicts. No, I’m only saying that among all these superficially healthy men—because of course it’s mostly men who are involved in such things—a lot of illegal preparations are used.”

  They were about to finish their wine, and Milo asked if she would like another glass. She said “gladly” with a smile, and he went over to the bar. While the bartender poured two fresh glasses, he observed Anja Nyhagen.

  She was sitting with her back to him and one leg over the other. A man at the next table tried to catch her eye—without success.

  “Here you go,” said Milo when he returned to the table and set the glass in front of her.

  “Thanks. Is this the same? It was tasty.”

  He nodded, and they toasted before Milo continued with his questions.

  “But how do these products get into the country? And is it true that they are produced by major, recognized pharmaceutical companies?”

  She put her glass aside and put her hands in her lap.

  “They come into the country the same way as other illegal substances. Smuggling over the border. And yes, quite a few are produced by recognized pharmaceutical companies.”

  “But isn’t that illegal?”

  “Yes and no. Steroids are, in principle, a completely legal product. There are patient groups who need them,” she explained.

  Just as the directors at Forum Healthcare had argued that it was completely normal to produce and sell these types of medications, she went through all the various patient groups who might need growth hormones or steroids to get healthy. Milo drank from his wineglass impatiently, and had to concentrate not to interrupt her.

  When she paused to sip her wine, he leaned over the table.

  “That’s good enough. I understand that there is a legitimate market for this, but there is a ‘but’ here, isn’t there? There is a ’but’ in the air?”

  She smiled and leaned across the table too, and gave the back of his hand a little pat with one hand. Milo felt the warmth as a shudder.

  “Quite correct, Milo. There is a ‘but.’ I’m getting to that now. Because far more steroids are produced in the world than the relevant patient groups need. The pharmaceutical company factories churn out millions of doses more than the legal market requires. And obviously they aren’t doing that for the fun of it. They do it because there is a market for it. A different market than the legal one,” Anja explained.

  “The juicers,” said Milo.

  “And other exercise fanatics in search of the perfect body, and who have money and want results. But who lack time.”

  He nodded thoughtfully.

  “How big is this market actually?”

  “Hard to say. But I would guess that ninety percent of the steroid use in Norway is illegal.”

  Milo raised one eyebrow.

  “The legal market is only ten percent?”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “I don’t know. The only thing I’m quite sure of is that the legal market is marginal compared to the illegal one.”

  “But the pharmaceutical manufacturers maintain that it’s completely legal to produce this,” said Milo.

  He thought about the Forum directors who quite openly defended themselves when he asked questions about their production.

  “This is produced in countries like India and Pakistan. All the major pharmaceutical companies have factories there. Or they own companies which, in turn, own factories,” Anja explained.

  “Pakistan? Are a lot of steroids and growth hormones produced there?”

  She nodded while she took a handful of the peanuts Milo had set on the table. He took a couple of nuts too, and noticed how impatient he was to understand this market better.

  Anja took a sip of wine and continued.

  “In these countries y
ou can just walk right into a pharmacy and buy as many ampoules as you want. You don’t need a medical certificate or a documented medical need. Then the products are taken to Europe.”

  Milo made a mental note that he should check the travel activity of Banno and others in the circle around the Downtown Gang. There was no doubt that they used and sold dope. But were they also behind the import itself of dope to Norway? From Pakistan?

  Anja explained further about smuggling over the borders.

  “Probably the customs officials are bribed pretty generously, so that the goods get into the country.”

  “Is that something you believe or that you know?”

  Once again there was a shrug of the shoulders.

  “I’m only stating that the ampoules come into the country. And it’s not exactly one by one. We’re talking about large consignments—”

  “—which selected customs agents are paid to let pass?”

  “Or which can be dropped from airplanes. I’ve heard about that too. Sometimes raw materials are smuggled in that are refined into finished products.”

  “So that production itself happens here in Norway?”

  “Yes. But then the quality is much lower. What comes from the factories in India and Pakistan is, after all, produced by recognized companies. The production in Norway probably goes on in some out-of-the-way warehouse or farm, and you can imagine how impure such products can be,” she explained.

  Her wineglass was now almost half-empty, and she pointed at the glass.

  “This was really good. Almost dangerously good.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Temptations wherever I turn,” she said, holding his eyes.

  Milo noticed that there was no longer any doubt what she was up to. And he noticed that he didn’t have anything against it.

  “Your husband is on a trip?”

  “Yes, he travels a good deal for work.”

  “What does he do?”

  “Security expert at Telenor.”

  “Good man?”

  “Very good man.”

  The sentence was full of affection. But void of passion.

  Milo thought a moment about Theresa and her ultimatum, which she had maintained was not one. And he felt that right now he was unable to relate to it. He found his topcoat and put the case with his credit cards in the inside pocket.

  “Shall we go to my place, then?” he said.

  “Yes, let’s do that,” she answered.

  * * *

  They took a taxi, let themselves in and undressed each other.

  FRIDAY

  24

  “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been three days since my last confession.”

  “God have mercy on you so you can repent your sins and believe in His mercy.”

  “Hello again.”

  “Twice in one week. Well, I never. Have you had some sort of religious awakening?”

  “No, relax. More like a need to confess. Maybe not that either, but a little breathing room to talk in.”

  “Fire away. What’s bothering you?”

  “Well, right now it’s more that I’m not bothered.”

  “Should you be worried that you don’t have anything to worry about? That sounds almost Protestant.”

  “Yesterday I was unfaithful to my girlfriend.”

  “I see.”

  “With a married woman.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And it’s been a long time since I felt so well. I almost didn’t sleep, but even so it’s like I’ve gotten a vitamin injection. I slept maybe a couple of hours. Or not even that, before she left—”

  “Thanks, spare me the details.”

  ” … at four o’clock in the morning. And I ought to feel miserable. I ought to have a guilty conscience about my girlfriend, but the fact is that I don’t in the slightest. Just a feeling that I ought to.”

  “Hmm. But you need to understand that your actions involve a double betrayal.”

  “In what way?”

  “You betray your girlfriend. And you are involved in betraying the husband of the woman you were with. A third betrayal is if they have children together.”

  “Theresa and I don’t have such a defined relationship that I would call it a betrayal—”

  “You were the one who used the word ‘unfaithful’ first. Besides, even if she knows that you have a, what shall I say, looser relationship, then it’s not necessarily the case that she likes that. Didn’t she try to put her foot down? It seems to me as if she has gone along with the way things are simply because she is afraid that otherwise she will lose you.”

  “You’re pretty smart, Father.”

  “Thanks.”

  (Pause.)

  “You say I am betraying the husband of the woman I was with. That’s going too far, I think.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I can’t be responsible for her actions. She’s the one who’s married to him, and she’s the one who chooses to be unfaithful.”

  “So you don’t have a responsibility? What if this leads to them separating? In that case, doesn’t that have something to do with you? If you are a passenger in a car and you get the driver to keep going faster and suddenly she runs someone down, aren’t you then also responsible?”

  “You used the word ‘betrayal.’ That I am betraying him. I don’t agree with that. Obviously I am responsible for my actions, but I’m not responsible for his happiness. If he isn’t able to keep his own wife happy and satisfied, then he has responsibility too, damn it!”

  “Watch your language, please.”

  “Sorry.”

  “The point, my son, is that your actions have ripple effects. Whether you want them to or not.”

  (Pause.)

  “‘What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.’ Have you heard the words of Mark before?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  (Pause.)

  “Do you know what is one of the biggest problems with you young people today?”

  “No. But I have a feeling I’m going to find out now.”

  “Your boundless selfishness.”

  “If you say so.”

  “The other major problem with you young people today … or not only the young, but almost all of us … is the desire for immediate gratification of needs.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Any need we have, we can, no, we demand, to have satisfied immediately.”

  “I understand what you mean, but aren’t you being overly pessimistic? Are things really so bad with us humans? You’re not turning into a doomsday prophet, are you, Father?”

  “I’ll give you doomsday prophecies, if that’s what you want. ‘This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God.’ Paul’s second epistle to Timothy, chapter three.”

  “If you say so.”

  “What do you think when you hear that?”

  “Well, that it certainly may describe our times somewhat. But that it just as easily fits the Roman Empire. That, basically, that’s how we humans are.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. That was a digression, in any event. Where was I?”

  “You were talking about selfishness and about gratification of needs.”

  “Exactly. Because when you start to ‘use’ people, things can get really bad. When you combine this demand for immediate gratification of needs with boundless selfishness. It’s as if you young people no longer have time to get properly acquainted. Everything has to work out from the very start, and if it doesn’t, then it’s just a matter of jumping ahead to someone who seems more perfect and that you think suits you better.”

  “I understand what you mean, but to be
honest, I don’t feel that I’m quite there.”

  “I know that, my son. I know that. You’re a good person, but you are also marked by your background.”

  “My background? What do you mean?”

  “Your mother. Whom we have talked about. Whom you lost. Don’t you think that affects how you relate to women today?”

  “I think this is getting very pseudopsychological.”

  “I mean your background may explain your behavior. But not excuse it. What you have done when you are involved in committing adultery is to work against God’s will. And I know that in principle you don’t think this is a big deal, but it is my duty to tell you that this is not something the Church turns a blind eye to.”

  “With all due respect, Father, aren’t you exaggerating now? This happens every single day, everywhere in the world. Also among members of our church.”

  “Of course this happens every day! Because we humans are weak. But that doesn’t prevent ideals from standing firm. Or are you so pragmatic that you think morality should be adaptable? Are you really one of those who thinks the Church must adapt itself to people’s changed moral standards? Shall we be like the Protestants, then, and adapt the Liturgy and modernize the Mass so people think they’re going to a concert instead? Shall I stand there like a hip young priest and sound as if Jesus and the Church no longer make demands on people, in a desperate attempt to attract the masses? No, thanks, let the state church be like that. It’s so afraid of pushing people away that it no longer knows what it stands for. And so it forgets that it is in people’s spines to despise those who only ingratiate themselves, those who adapt, those who don’t stand for anything.”

  “I didn’t mean to provoke you.”

  “Sorry, my son. I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away. Perhaps I get even more provoked when a talented person like you appears to live so on the surface. I want you to think about something.”

  “What is that?”

  “Are you able to keep from giving in to your desires?”

  “Of course.”

  “Try it, then. Try to set your own needs aside next time. See yourself in a greater context.”

  “I’ll try.”

  (Pause.)

  “I should say that you were able to pull me back down to earth again, Father.”

  “That won’t do you any harm.”