Chameleon People

by Hans Olav Lahlum

  ‘There is one crime that complicates the situation there, and which could serve to strengthen the press’s critical focus. A young female student, who it seems had contact with the deceased interpreter through the university, disappeared last night in uncertain circumstances and has not been seen since. We are concerned that if this remains unresolved, it might draw attention and result in a further postponement and, at worst, a cancellation of the agreement.’

  It was a small counter-attack that made our opponent pause and think for a few moments, but no longer. The answer came just as fast and hard.

  ‘The vice-ambassador says that would be a very unfortunate situation indeed, but can only assure you that he and the ambassador know nothing about the woman. He would again like to be given the opportunity to clear up any misunderstandings if the police have grounds not to believe him.’

  Yet another fast and aggressive move – as well as a challenging ultimatum.

  I looked at Danielsen, who looked back at me. My boss sat quietly between us and said nothing.

  Danielsen gave me a quick nod.

  It crossed my mind that it was now more like a game of bridge, where no one knew for certain what cards the other players were holding.

  I heard the voices of Miriam’s mother and Patricia talking over each other in my head. I thought of Miriam as I had last seen her, when she disappeared into the night on her own.

  And I told myself that I might lose my job, but I had to do everything I could to save my fiancée – and that I would always have Patricia’s support.

  So I turned towards the vice-ambassador, hesitated for a brief second, then said: ‘The police, of course, are not in a position to say whether this happened with the vice-ambassador’s approval or not. But, unfortunately, we have strong indications not only that employees from the embassy have been involved in the kidnapping of the woman in question, but also that she is being held here at the embassy.’

  There was silence for a few moments. The interpreter swallowed hard and seemed to struggle to find the right words. The vice-ambassador looked at me, unable to understand, then barked a sharp comment at the interpreter. She answered in Russian – even more slowly, as far as I could make out.

  Then time stopped completely – in much the same way that it had during the shooting at the National Theatre earlier in the day. Later I realized that it might only have been five seconds, but it felt like a lifetime that the vice-ambassador and I sat looking at each other.

  His face was carved in stone, without a twitch of movement. I did not hear a sound from my boss or Danielsen. And as far as I could tell from my peripheral vision, neither of them nodded or shook their head. They had moved to the sidelines. Suddenly it was a game between the vice-ambassador and me. Which moved on, eventually, after a small eternity, when the vice-ambassador downed half a glass of vodka, and then answered.

  ‘The audacity of this accusation leaves the vice-ambassador speechless and dry-mouthed. He hopes that the police realize that any kind of police operation against the embassy would provoke strong reactions from the Soviet Union and considerable attention in other countries, and that it would have very negative consequences for those responsible on the Norwegian side.’

  I worried that my boss would contradict me, but he sat there, calm as ever. So I hurried on.

  ‘That would certainly be the case if the police, after searching the embassy, did not have any evidence of serious criminal activity on the embassy’s part. But it would be a very different matter if the police did find evidence that employees of the embassy had committed a serious crime. That would also draw a lot of attention and could have very negative consequences for those responsible on the Soviet side – regardless of whether they knew about the matter or not.’

  I was pushing my luck, hinting that we had evidence that we did not have. But I was now totally convinced that it was true. And this was reinforced when the interpreter again hesitated and the vice-ambassador again was silent for a few seconds after listening to the translation.

  ‘The vice-ambassador denies any knowledge of the matter, and stills finds it hard to believe that anything like this could happen without him knowing about it. But given the seriousness of the matter, he will of course investigate. If the police have any evidence of criminal activity, he hopes that the police might be able to tell him where in the embassy the kidnapped person might be hidden.’

  ‘In the basement,’ I replied, short and sweet, having first listened to the translation.

  I felt an almost wild sense of triumph go to my head. Time stopped again. The vice-ambassador looked straight at me and raised his eyebrows in his otherwise stony face in something that resembled both surprise and fear. He downed the other half of his glass of vodka and when he spoke again, it was more slowly and in a quieter voice. The interpreter also dropped her voice in line with his.

  ‘The vice-ambassador hopes that it will transpire that no one in the embassy has betrayed its trust and that the young woman will turn up alive and unharmed sometime this evening . . . and, if this was to happen, he hopes that the investigation could soon be closed.’

  An enormous cloud of relief enveloped me. Miriam was alive and unharmed. And our game of chess was definitely about to turn in my favour. My opponent on the other side of the table was no longer thinking about how to avoid losing, but instead how he could disguise it.

  I turned and looked over at my boss. Luckily, he was on the ball.

  ‘If the missing young lady comes back unharmed this evening, there is every reason to believe that the investigation into that part of the case will be closed.’

  Without any hesitation, Danielsen nodded in agreement. As did I.

  The vice-ambassador thought about it for a few seconds more, then took two more slugs of vodka from the interpreter’s glass. Followed by another short volley.

  ‘As far as the death of our colleague is concerned, the vice-ambassador is still very saddened. He does, however, fully understand that it can be difficult to solve murders that are committed in public places, and would not criticize the Norwegian police in any way if this should prove to be the case.’

  It was a cunning, fast move. The offer of understanding was in practice a suggestion that the investigation would be closed without finding the murderer. But it was hard to give a negative response.

  My boss said: ‘Thank you.’ And we all nodded.

  At the same time, I thought about the interpreter who had sat here with us the day before and who had been shot in front of my very eyes this morning. It did not sit comfortably. But we had absolutely no evidence in connection with her death. And my picture of the interpreter, who I had only met briefly and did not know, faded as soon as I thought of my fiancée. Tatiana was a foreigner with no family in Norway, who was now gone forever. Miriam was Norwegian, she had family here – and apparently she was alive.

  The vice-ambassador nodded gravely – and then fired another round.

  ‘On another note: the vice-ambassador has the impression that the embassy is now under police surveillance, no doubt with the best intentions after today’s murder. However, the vice-ambassador finds this troubling. Would it be possible to have the surveillance lifted from this evening? The vice-ambassador hopes that it might help to resolve the matter in the best way for everyone.’

  The message was clear: the embassy wanted to ensure that the coast was clear to remove something or someone from the premises. It could well be that they wished to transport the man who had committed the murder, but it was also likely that they were looking for a way to release Miriam without creating a scandal.

  I was not aware that the embassy was under surveillance, and I could not assess the implications of the question.

  Danielsen and I both looked at our boss, who once again was quick to respond.

  ‘It is a routine procedure when a foreign national is attacked in this way that extra measures are put in place to safeguard the embassy. If the embassy so wishes, we can cer
tainly lift the measure temporarily – between, say, seven and nine o’clock this evening.’

  The ambassador did not say any more after listening to the translation. He just held out his hand – first to me, then to my boss, and then Danielsen. Then he stood up to leave.

  I felt intoxicated with relief and perhaps emboldened, given these latest developments. And so I played my final card, with the vice-ambassador towering above me.

  ‘One last thing regarding the murder of Fredriksen, which it is in everyone’s interest to wrap up as quickly as possible: if we can arrest the person responsible, we will of course then confirm that the murder is in no way connected to the Soviet Embassy. Sometimes embassy staff at various levels can be ordered abroad at short notice. We have reason to believe that the person we discussed when we were here last, might coincidently have been at the scene of the crime, without necessarily having anything to do with the murder. But we do have reason to believe that he was there, and therefore need a statement from him about what he saw.’

  It was a daring move. But before I had a chance to be frightened myself, it proved to be a trump card in every sense. The vice-ambassador stood there without saying a word, swaying unsteadily.

  It crossed my mind that he also might be a man of many faces. Perhaps he also had a wife and children, or fiancée, whom he missed. And perhaps the pressure on him had been greater than the pressure on me. If I had just risked my job for the case, it could be that he had risked both his freedom and his life.

  I had time to think all this because he hesitated again – and still did not answer. He nodded down at me, shook my hand again and then walked out with quick heavy steps.

  We sat in silence even after he had left the room, until the new interpreter stood up and said: ‘I can follow you out.’

  The glasses and cakes on our side of the table were untouched, and yet it felt like we had had a lot to chew on.

  The new interpreter followed us to the main entrance, but remained inside herself. I had barely noticed that she was there. All of a sudden I started to wonder what she made of it all. But as soon as she was out of sight, it left my mind. I had too many other people to worry about – alive and dead, but most of all, one who had disappeared.

  XII

  We said nothing until we were in the safety of the car. As he turned on the engine, my boss said: ‘Congratulations once again, Kristiansen. That was a daring and impressive performance in what was a critical situation. Your theory proved to be right. I think you will have your fiancée back this evening and we got as much as we could have hoped for from the situation. We can get on with our jobs and the investigation, and leave the politicians to assess the consequences for them.’

  Danielsen also congratulated me on how I had dealt with it, but was rather curt. Once again, I felt the rivalry between us. But I was happy to forgive him today of all days. Especially when he added his sincere wish that my fiancée would turn up unharmed this evening.

  I remarked somewhat sheepishly that my greatest fear now was that if surveillance was lifted, the Soviets could move Miriam from the embassy without releasing her.

  My boss somewhat patronizingly shook his head.

  ‘I understand, but I don’t think that you need to worry. First of all, they clearly believe that we have some kind of evidence, and second, both the vice-ambassador and I know perfectly well that we will not stop watching the embassy. We will know who leaves the embassy this evening and where they go. Only, we will not use it for anything – as long as your fiancée shows up.’

  I felt reassured. And even though the anxiety and uncertainty still lingered in my body, in my head, I was increasingly convinced that Miriam really would come back this evening. For a moment or two, I thought about Patricia and how she would react. Then my thoughts moved on to a third woman – the interpreter who had been shot right in front of me this morning.

  ‘The business with the interpreter is very hard,’ I said carefully, as we pulled up in front of the police station.

  My boss turned around and looked at me with his most inscrutable expression.

  ‘Yes, but we could not have saved her. There is a cold war going on out there, and it has claimed the lives of many in many different countries. The interpreter was a little foreign bird who landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her execution was professional and the result a success. As we were not able to arrest the killer on the spot or get any description of him, we have in practice no means of solving the murder. The newspapers will write about it tomorrow, and maybe at the start of next week, but the interest will die down, certainly if we now manage to solve the other murders soon. The interpreter was Russian, and it would appear that she was killed by another Russian, and the Soviet Embassy is well aware of that. The Soviets are obviously not going to complain if the case is not solved, and it is not likely that anyone in Norway will either. The interpreter’s death is a tragedy for her and her family in the Soviet Union, but for us, it is the least important crime in a complex case. The most important thing right now is that you get your fiancée back. The next most important thing is that we find out who killed Per Johan Fredriksen and his daughter.’

  And with that, Danielsen stopped the car.

  On my way into the station, I thought that my boss was right in many ways. The interpreter could not have been saved, and it was apparently a Soviet crime against a Soviet citizen. And in that sense, it was less our case than the others were. But the woman had been living here. It was here she had first of all tried to help me solve a crime and then tried to save her own life. And it was here, right in front of my very eyes and hundreds of others, that she had been shot. And, I thought to myself, I had seen another side of my boss – a more cynical and less likeable face.

  I remembered the photograph of the elderly couple in her wallet, and wondered if the young Tatiana’s parents were still alive behind the Iron Curtain. According to her passport, she had been unmarried and did not have children. But there might very well be a boyfriend somewhere who did not yet know that she was dead, and would never know why she died.

  It was an uncomfortable thought. But then, a moment later, I looked at my hand and a picture of Miriam and her engagement ring filled my head.

  My watch said it was a quarter past five. I had several nerve-wracking hours ahead of me.

  XIII

  After a few minutes at the station, I ascertained that the hours would be insufferably long if I was to stay there all evening. And I could not bring myself to ring Miriam’s mother to tell her the good news. The thought of maybe having to call her again a few hours later to tell her that her daughter had died was simply unbearable.

  There was no new information about the Fredriksen case waiting for me. I spent a while pondering over who might be behind those murders if it was not a Soviet agent, but I could not really concentrate.

  I asked my boss for permission to take a couple of hours off in lieu to go out and get something to eat. My boss was himself on his way home for supper, and agreed straightaway.

  Then I rang Patricia. I told her that after our meeting at the Soviet Embassy, there was hope that Miriam would come back, and that some of the information we got in connection with the Fredriksen case reinforced her theory.

  Patricia sounded quite jolly when she replied: ‘Well, that might give grounds for a quiet celebration for us both. Come for supper, if you have the time and inclination – before your fiancée can be expected.’

  This was said with an almost jokey undertone. I felt so grateful to Patricia, and was extremely curious to hear what she might say about the remaining mysteries. So I said yes.

  I was shown into Patricia’s library at a quarter to six. The asparagus soup was already on the table. I thought to myself that either the kitchen here worked at record speed, or they had had a three-course meal ready in case I should come. I guessed it was the latter, and after what had been an unusually demanding Friday, I greatly appreciated it. As soon as I looked at the food
, I realized that for the first time today, I was hungry.

  We gave each other a warm hug as soon as I came in. Patricia was wearing a green blouse that was very light for the time of year and revealed a fair amount of skin. The thought that another man stood between us hit me hard at that moment.

  I quickly retreated and once again felt a stab of guilt in relation to the woman who was sitting opposite and my fiancée. It did not make matters any better that my fiancée first of all was still being held hostage, and second, had no idea that I was here.

  After a somewhat hesitant start, we had a very nice meal. I was still tense, but naturally also very relieved, following the afternoon’s developments and at the prospect of getting Miriam back alive and unharmed. Patricia quickly regained her usual conceited and self-assured air. But I also noted in her a sense of relief that her theory had proved to be right.

  Patricia ate the asparagus soup and beef entrecote with a healthy appetite, but listened intently when I recounted our meeting at the Soviet Embassy. She nodded appreciatively, especially when I mentioned my parting shot to the vice-ambassador.

  ‘Excellent. So, it is very likely that your fiancée will appear again soon, and the murder of the interpreter can be seen as solved, even though no one has been arrested. The man in the hat will soon be out of the country, which is considerably more satisfactory, so long as he did not kill either Per Johan or Vera Fredriksen. Something that I am fairly certain he did not. But he was at the scene of the crime when Fredriksen died and anything he can tell us could be decisive to solving the case.’

  I asked how close we were to finding the solution – and without thinking, begged Patricia to tell me what she thought. Just then, the maid came in to clear away the main course and serve the dessert. When we were alone again, Patricia gave a self-satisfied, teasing smile as she spooned a piece of chocolate cake into her mouth.

  ‘I made an exception earlier on today, as your fiancée’s life was at risk. But now that it is simply a matter of solving a murder that has already been committed, you will have to forgive me for not wanting to say anything before I am certain enough of my reasoning not just to be guessing. There are still several candidates from different circles who could have killed Per Johan Fredriksen.’