The Fourth Man

by K. O. Dahl

‘Its origin is of no interest. But it is a fact that a missing work of art had been deposited in the box as well as the money.’

  ‘You’re forgetting that I determine what is of interest or not. This information is meant to serve as a mitigating circumstance, is it not?’

  ‘My client is not interested in talking about the past history of the painting.’

  Frølich grinned at Fristad and whispered: ‘The picture’s certain to have come from Narvesen’s safe. Jim Rognstad took part in the burglary, but he’s scared of incriminating himself still further.’

  Gunnarstranda stood up and walked over to the two-way mirror. He stood combing his hair while mouthing: ‘Shut up in there!’

  ‘What kind of painting are we talking about?’ he asked with his back to the lawyer and Rognstad.

  Bergum replied, ‘A stolen work of art. Madonna with Child, painted by Giovanni Bellini. It’s a small painting but worth millions. My client says it was in the safety-deposit box and someone must have removed it.’

  Gunnarstranda turned. ‘Let’s take that from the beginning, shall we? You say that someone – thus a person other than your client – made their way into the vault, unlocked the safety-deposit box and took out the painting, but left the money, half a million, behind?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘We don’t know who.’

  ‘But this person must have used a key. Your client had the key.’

  ‘There are two keys.’

  ‘How did your client obtain his key?’

  Fristad and Frølich gave each other a knowing look.

  Birgitte Bergum and Rognstad whispered to each other.

  Bergum said: ‘That has nothing to do with the case.’

  ‘I have reason to believe you acquired the key by illegal means.’

  Birgitte Bergum said: ‘We have no comment to make with reference to your assertion. However, we consider it appropriate to remind you that my client has full legal access to the box.’

  Gunnarstranda addressed Rognstad directly now: ‘There are two sets of keys to the safety-deposit box. And there are four people with right of access: you, Jonny Faremo, Ilijaz Zupac and Vidar Ballo. Jonny Faremo is dead. Zupac is in Ullersmo prison. You’re sitting there and telling me someone else nicked this painting from the box. So you’re saying Vidar Ballo has been there and taken the picture. If he did, why did he leave half a million?’

  ‘That’s irrelevant,’ Bergum interposed.

  ‘Irrelevant?’ Gunnarstranda started to grin. ‘Is it irrelevant that a notorious criminal walks legitimately into a bank vault and removes a painting, but leaves half a million untouched?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘Why naturally?’

  ‘The individual in question could well go back and collect the money later, couldn’t he? The fact is, Gunnarstranda, that there was a work of art in the box and now it has disappeared.’

  ‘And the man on the moon eats cheese every day,’ Gunnarstranda snapped. He turned and walked back to the table.

  Bergum sent him a deprecating smile. She had begun to develop a new interest in the mirror and when she spoke she addressed the glass pane: ‘We’re talking about one of the world’s most wanted works of art, Gunnarstranda. Go back to your office and look up the records of “Unsolved Cases” and check for stolen works of art. I’m sure you will find Giovanni Bellini’s painting mentioned, the great master of Italian Renaissance painting. The painting was stolen from the church of Santa Maria dell‘Orto in Venice in 1993. Imagine what solving a case like that would mean for you and Police HQ. After that, you and I plus the police prosecutor can discuss the definition of mitigating circumstances,’ she said, getting up and turning towards the glass. She stood still, adjusting her bra. Then she added in a chill tone: ‘Isn’t that right, Fristad?’

  Two hours later Gunnarstranda and Fristad were alone. The latter scratching his neck in irritation. ‘Bellini, who the hell is Bellini? As far as I’m concerned, she might just as well have been talking about mountain walking in north Norway.’

  ‘The Bellinis were a dynasty apparently,’ Gunnarstranda said.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  Gunnarstranda turned to show him the encyclopaedia he had found on his bookshelf and said: ‘It says here there was one father and two sons. Renaissance painters at the end of the fifteenth century. There was also one equally famous brother-in-law, Andrea Mantegna.’ He flicked over the page and read on: ‘The Bellini brothers: Gentile and Giovanni.’

  He cleared his throat: ‘Giovanni Bellini had enormous influence on Giorgione and Titian, who were both pupils of his, and towards the end of his life Bellini was himself able to learn from them … erm … erm … there are two motifs which dominate his altar paintings. In one there is a beautiful young Madonna with a child in front of a fixed tableau, often giving onto evocative background scenery. Giovanni Bellini’s pictures hang in all the great galleries of the world. There are pictures hanging in several churches in Venice …’ Gunnarstranda peered over the rim of his glasses. ‘Look here. I’ve seen that one.’ He showed Fristad a picture, a portrait of a pale man wearing a hat. With his glasses perched on the end of his nose, Gunnarstranda adjusted his reading distance. ‘That’s what I thought – the National Gallery in London. There’s nothing in this book about a robbery at any rate, but on the other hand this encyclopaedia was published well before 1993.’ He examined the year of publication before putting it back on the shelf. ‘Nineteen seventy-eight to be precise. Perhaps you could put in a good word for us so we get these reference books updated.’

  ‘No one updates reference books nowadays. They use the Internet, but perhaps you don’t know what that is …’

  At that moment Lena Stigersand poked her head in. She said: ‘Just checked a couple of details about Rognstad’s story. In fact, a painting by Giovanni Bellini showing a Madonna with baby Jesus was stolen from the church of Santa Maria dell’Orto in Venice in 1993. Pretty stupid business. The church was being restored. Someone strolled in under the tarpaulin, put the picture in their bag and walked off.’

  ‘So the picture is small,’ Gunnarstranda said.

  Stigersand nodded. ‘It has never reappeared and must be very valuable. Of course, pictures like these are almost never sold on. A similar picture of Madonna with the child Jesus, signed by Bellini, was sold in 1996 for £826, 500 at an auction in London.’

  ‘How much is that in Norwegian kroner?’ Fristad asked.

  ‘About ten million.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Gunnarstranda said.

  Stigersand left, closing the door behind her.

  ‘We really modern types use the young ones to check modern stuff on the Internet,’ Gunnarstranda said and added: ‘If a picture like that went for ten million in ninety-six, it must be worth a lot more today. Prices for art shoot through the roof. Worse than flats in Oslo.’

  ‘But do you believe that?’ Fristad broke in. ‘Is it likely that the picture was lying in a deposit box in Askim for years? It’s rather far-fetched.’

  ‘If Rognstad’s pulling the wool over our eyes, then it’s a pretty good story,’ Gunnarstranda retorted. ‘So there has to be proof to underpin it. Rognstad would never have gone in for a plea bargain if he didn’t have proof. After all, he wants his sentence commuted. He’s got an ace up his sleeve. Now it wouldn’t be much of an ace if he didn’t know where the picture came from, would it. I would bet the picture was with the money in Narvesen’s safe. The question of where the painting came from in order to end up in the deposit box is the only ace Jim Rognstad has. But he’s waiting before he plays it.’

  ‘If that’s the case, how did Narvesen get hold of this picture?’

  ‘Haven’t the foggiest. Not particularly bothered either. What is important is the sequence of events. The men we’re trying to nail break into Narvesen’s place in the autumn of 1998 and steal a safe. The painting and the money are in the safe. The neighbour’s wife only sees Ilijaz Zupac and poi
nts him out in the police photo files. Had she not done that, I presume the safe would never have been reported stolen – since there was such a famous item in it. The fact that the safe contained an item of such value would explain why it was the only thing that was stolen. Zupac is arrested. During the arrest Zupac fires a shot, one man dies and Ilijaz is charged with murder and sentenced. The safe is never found. In all probability his accomplices open the safe and the contents are deposited in the bank. One look at the names of the signatories and it is obvious that Ilijaz’s conspirators were the Faremo gang: Jim Rognstad, Vidar Ballo and Jonny Faremo himself. These three recently broke into the container at Loenga in Oslo …’

  ‘There were four of them, weren’t there?’ Fristad interrupted.

  ‘We have a witness who says so, but let’s stick to what we know. The three of them are arrested after a tip-off from Merethe Sandmo, right. All three get off, thanks to Elisabeth Faremo’s testimony. Her statement is disputed by Frank Frølich who is willing to swear she was in his double bed after one o‘clock in the morning. However, since he was asleep when she went home, theoretically she might have been telling the truth. She might have waited until he was asleep before going home and organizing the game of poker with her brother and his two pals.’

  ‘However, Frølich’s testimony should not be used under any circumstances,’ Fristad said with force.

  ‘The question is whether we can avoid it,’ Gunnarstranda objected. ‘Brigitte Bergum will fight hard for Rognstad. She has all the gunpowder she needs to stage a regular fireworks display: a cop on leave who queers his pitch by humping the sister of a criminal and a story about some mysterious world-famous work of art, which she will have no problem selling to the press – to name but two.’

  Fristad cleaned his glasses in silence. He opened his mouth, breathed on his glasses and rubbed them energetically. ‘Continue, Gunnarstranda.’

  ‘Directly after the court hearing Elisabeth Faremo goes home and packs her things. She contacts her female lover, Reidun Vestli.’

  ‘Poor old Frølich,’ Fristad sighed. ‘What a wretched story.’

  ‘If I may continue?’ Gunnarstranda asked politely.

  ‘Of course.’ Fristad put his glasses back on his nose.

  ‘Elisabeth Faremo hides in a chalet owned by Reidun Vestli. Then something in the clan gives. Jonny Faremo is found drowned in the Glomma. One theory, then: Faremo knew they had been arrested because someone grassed on them. After his sister provided them with an alibi, Faremo went looking for the grass. Perhaps he points the finger of blame at Merethe. She immediately allies herself with Ballo, who kills Faremo, which binds Merethe to Ballo. Elisabeth may have anticipated this row and therefore flees. To protect herself against the men, and as a security, she takes the safety-deposit box keys with her. The two remaining men, Rognstad and Ballo, feverishly start searching for them.’

  ‘That begs a question,’ Fristad said. ‘Why didn’t these two men bother to ask Frølich for Elisabeth Faremo’s whereabouts?’

  ‘Frølich was also searching for her. He had asked her neighbour and Jonny Faremo. Besides, he’s a policeman. No, they go for the easiest target: beat the answer out of Reidun Vestli. At least one of them travels with Merethe Sandmo to the chalet. They stop off for a meal in Fagernes – she is seen there with a man. They go on to the chalet …’

  ‘There’s something out of sync here,’ Fristad interrupted. ‘I read in one of your reports that the chalet fire was reported before Reidun Vestli was taken to hospital.’

  ‘Her injuries had been sustained within an unspecified period of time. Unfortunately she clammed up tight afterwards. She wouldn’t tell us a thing about the assault. Consequently we don’t know when she was attacked. On the other hand, I can’t see how Ballo or Rognstad would have found the chalet without going through Reidun Vestli.’

  ‘And their intention was always to find the key to the safety-deposit box containing the painting and the money?’ Fristad interrupted again.

  ‘Yes. They knew Elisabeth Faremo had access to the key. But she outflanked them – and put the key in a safe place. She put it in Frølich’s flat.’

  ‘Where’s the other key?’

  ‘We don’t know. That’s why Elisabeth Faremo doesn’t have a key when Sandmo and co. arrive at the chalet. There’s a row, which culminates in an arson attack and Elisabeth being burned.’

  ‘Where can the other key have been?’

  ‘All we know is that it was used by someone pretending to be Ilijaz Zupac – it happened the same day the three were acquitted at the murder hearing. The person pretending to be Ilijaz Zupac opened the bank box, took the painting, we presume, and disappeared.’

  ‘It could have been Ballo, as Rognstad suspects?’

  ‘Of course. The problem is that Ballo had access to the box anyway. Why would he pretend to be Zupac?’

  They reflected for a while. ‘Why did this person only take the painting?’

  Gunnarstranda opened his palms. ‘Either there is a banal explanation – he wanted to collect the money later – or he left the money so that we would ask ourselves precisely that question, should the story of the painting leak out. It seems unlikely that a thief with access to half a million would leave it there. If the painting never turns up, though, whoever claims there was a painting in the safety-deposit box can neither prove it was there nor make a credible case for it having been there. Leaving the money is in fact an unusually clever move – assuming that Jim Rognstad is telling the truth.’

  ‘And we should add that he does seem to be telling the truth. So who took the painting?’

  ‘I have no idea. But I assume the same person was on the container raid, the man who was seen with the other three when Arnfinn Haga was murdered.’

  ‘It couldn’t have been Ilijaz Zupac? The man himself?’

  ‘He hasn’t been out of prison since he was sentenced approximately five years ago.’

  ‘Well,’ Fristad sighed heavily. ‘An unidentified person at the scene of the crime. Could it have been this man who killed Jonny Faremo?’

  ‘It might have been. Why do you think so?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Fristad said. ‘But this business with the keys is interesting, isn’t it? Let’s say Elisabeth and Jonny Faremo had a key each. Elisabeth hides her key in Frølich’s flat. The mystery fourth man has a fight with Jonny Faremo, grabs Jonny’s key and Jonny drowns. This fourth man drives to the bank in Askim, pretends to be Ilijaz Zupac and picks up the painting. The others don’t know this, however. They only know Jonny is dead and they can’t find his key. So they reason, shit, now they’ll have to get hold of the last key. They know Elisabeth has it and they know she has some relationship with this woman at the university. Whom they turn over to find out where Elisabeth Faremo is hiding, etc, etc.’

  ‘Anything is possible,’ Gunnarstranda said. ‘We know there were two keys. One of them was in Frølich’s flat all the time. The other was used by someone also known as Ilijaz Zupac. We know Ballo teamed up with Merethe Sandmo immediately after Jonny Faremo’s death. I talked to them myself. This Ballo is still missing – and we have no reliable information as to his whereabouts. My feeling is that Faremo was killed as a result of the row he started when Merethe Sandmo grassed on them.’

  ‘It really does very much look like an alliance between Ballo and Merethe Sandmo. They could have joined forces, pinched the painting and ridden off into the sunset, couldn’t they?’

  ‘But why would Ballo pretend to be Zupac when he could have strolled into the bank vault as himself?’

  ‘To hide his identity. The police are on the lookout for the painting all over the world. Criminal logic: snatch the painting under an alias. And, on top of that, leave the money so that any potential talk of a stolen painting by the others is undermined. Unless the prosecuting authorities manage to get their hands on it, that is.’

  ‘You may be right. But we still have this witness who maintains there were four people at
the crime scene where Arnfinn Haga was murdered.’

  ‘So there is a man whose identity we don’t know. Who do you reckon it is, this fourth perpetrator?

  ‘No idea,’ Gunnarstranda said, in brief summary.

  ‘Could it have been – please forgive me now, but giving rein to your fantasy can be quite useful in this job – could it have been Frank Frølich?’

  The room went quiet. The sun shone through the blinds and Gunnarstranda found time to light a cigarette. He lit it without a word of protest from Fristad.

  37

  Gunnarstranda and Fristad were in the former’s office. Frølich had been summoned without a word of explanation. Gunnarstranda and the prosecuting lawyer each sat in their chair.

  He noticed two things: Gunnarstranda was smoking and Fristad was not complaining. Frølich looked from one to the other.

  ‘We would like to discuss the facts of the case with you,’ Fristad said concisely.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Does that strike you as strange?’

  ‘Not strange, simply different.’

  ‘well …’ Fristad lowered his gaze, but decided against commenting on his response. Instead he said: ‘What do you consider the most important thing to do now – at this stage of the investigation?’

  ‘In my view, the smartest move would be to talk to Narvesen again,’ Frølich said.

  ‘You’ll have to stop this business with Narvesen,’ Fristad exclaimed angrily.

  ‘You asked me what I would do,’ Frølich retorted. ‘And my opinion is that Narvesen should be asked whether he knows the painting Rognstad was talking about.’

  ‘You believe Rognstad was telling the truth then? Ilijaz and company took the painting when they robbed the safe in 1998?’

  ‘Rognstad didn’t say that. He said the painting was in the safety-deposit box. He didn’t say one word about the break-in, but I’m sure he was holding back about the Narvesen burglary so that he wouldn’t be charged. On the other hand, if Rognstad was telling the truth about the painting, the odds are that it came from the safe. I believe both the painting and the money were in the safe when it was stolen in 1998. I believe Jonny Faremo was involved in the theft. So for this gang it wasn’t just half a million in the safe, but many more millions. And they deposited the contents in the bank.’