Medusa

by Torkil Damhaug

  – Heads will roll, he predicted, evidently not realising that his language was a trifle inappropriate under the circumstances. – It’s on days like this you realise how lucky you are not to be one of the bosses.

  For once Viken didn’t turn on him with a sarcastic riposte. He stood by the wall, arms folded, expressionless and silent. Images from the previous night were still etched across the light cells of his retinas. Arve Norbakk’s cabin, the bed containing the remains of the missing woman, Miriam Gaizauskaite. He had also been down in the cellar … The smells were even more persistent, he noticed. He shook them away, grabbed his coffee cup and emptied it, felt the acid bubbling and boiling down in his stomach. The burning grew worse when he thought about Arve Norbakk. He’d given himself a day, two at the most, to put these thoughts behind him. He’d spent all night trying to come up with an alternative explanation. In some way or other Arve had to be a victim too. In the minutes before Axel Glenne was wheeled into the operating theatre at Ullevål hospital, Viken had been allowed to ask him some questions. A few of his worst suspicions were confirmed, but shreds of doubt remained.

  Not until about ten o’clock had he been able to sit down with the letters from Glenne’s car, and a Dictaphone they found at the cabin. A video camera had also been found there. Viken ran the first clip, from which he understood that the sufferings of the victims in the cellar had been thoroughly documented. He decided that the rest of the clips could wait for another day.

  By the time he had read the letters and listened to the recordings made on the Dictaphone, all the pieces had fallen into place and there was no hiding place left for his doubt. Arve Norbakk had been one step ahead all the way. He’d led them on and played with them. Offered them explanations for the bear tracks and the claw marks. Advised Viken to send people to Åsnes. Had them looking in an area close to the cabin where the victims had been held prisoner. And he had deceived them. Information about Miriam Gaizauskaite had been withheld or altered. The identity of the former fiancé fabricated.

  Viken glanced at the piece of paper on which he had jotted down a number of timelines. Miriam had been abducted on Wednesday evening, at some point after leaving the Catholic church in Majorstua at 6.15. Norbakk could not have managed to drive out to the cabin with her and be back again by nine o’clock, when the interview with Glenne began. Viken realised that she had probably lain bound and drugged in the back of Norbakk’s car while Norbakk was taking part in the interrogation. That meant she had been in the police’s own garage, a few floors below where they were sitting. According to the pathologist’s report, she hadn’t been killed until Thursday night, more than twenty-four hours later.

  Viken didn’t waste time in self-recriminations. Even as he was reading the letters, he was working out how something he had understood much too late might in fact be turned to his advantage. He managed to catch Finckenhagen just before she was called in to see the Chief Constable about preparations for the press conference, and showed her the letters.

  Not long afterwards, Kaja Fredvold from VG had called. Suddenly Viken knew the best way to play his cards. He skipped down the stairs, got into his car and returned her call.

  Nina was the first to get up and leave the meeting room once the press conference was over. Viken saw from the movements in her neck and back that she needed to be alone. But when he passed her door a few minutes later, she called to him. Full of trepidation, he stopped in the doorway. She was sitting in front of her computer and waved him over.

  – Look at this.

  Viken peered over her shoulder. Nina’s hair smelled of some kind of fruit, and he leaned so far forward that his arm brushed against her back. She was looking at the web edition of VG. The headline filled most of the screen: Infidelity, jealousy and bestial murder. Beneath was a picture of Miriam. She was standing smiling outside the cabin. A giant of a man, obviously with Down’s syndrome, had an arm around her. Viken had seen him earlier when two detectives led him up from the cellar and out of the cabin.

  Viken wrinkled his bushy eyebrows and made a supreme effort to appear surprised.

  – How the hell did they get hold of that story? he exclaimed, as Nina clicked on a link that said: Read all about the bear murders and the Oslo police scandal.

  70

  AXEL HEARS A phone ringing far away. He gets out of bed. The sound is coming from somewhere outside the frosted window. He tries to open it, but there are no hinges. I can’t answer you, Miriam. I don’t know where it’s ringing. He raises his fist to break the window.

  He was held by several pairs of hands.

  – Take it easy now, Axel, the dark voice above him said. – Take it easy and everything will be fine.

  He opened his eyes. Could see through only one. Three faces above him.

  – Who are you?

  – I’m the person who operated on you.

  – Miriam’s trying to call me!

  One of the others, a woman in small round glasses, said:

  – You didn’t have a phone with you, but if someone rings we’ll make sure you get a message.

  – What have you given me?

  – You’re on a morphine drip.

  Axel sank back on to the bed. They let go of him.

  – I can only see through one eye.

  The surgeon sat on the edge of the bed.

  – You only have one eye to see with, Axel. But there’s nothing wrong with that one. You’ll see as well as a one-eyed eagle.

  The smile was fixed around his mouth.

  – The operation was a success. Our only problem is all these damned journalists. But we’re doing what we can to keep them away.

  – Who’s that ringing?

  The woman in glasses bent over him again. The smell of carbolic soap and mackerel from her mouth.

  – It’s quiet here, Axel. No one’s ringing.

  He takes hold of the mobile phone on the bedside table and presses it to his ear. He’s picked up the wrong phone again; the ringing is still there. The glass in the window is frosted, opaque, but he can see a bright light burning on the other side. Shadows moving. Time to do the right thing, Axel. Yes, Father, I will do the right thing. But first I have to take this call. Miriam’s calling, she’s the one I want to tell. Don’t try it on, Axel. Do the right thing. Now.

  Two boys standing outside on the steps. It’s summer, and the sun is almost white. They’re skinny and bare chested, their arms pink. One of the first really warm days of the summer holidays.

  – Let’s ride to Oksvalstranda, Brede suggests.

  – My bike’s still got a flat, Axel says. – And anyway, we promised to look after Balder.

  – You can sit behind me. Balder can come with us.

  – Not with his paw, Axel protests. – It’ll make the infection worse. You heard what Father said this morning. He’ll kill you if you do it.

  Brede laughs. The kind of laugh that seems to come from some completely different place than his thin neck.

  – Suppose Balder did get really ill and die, that would serve the old man right. He loves that dog more than he loves any of us.

  Axel weighs it up. Brede says: – If you don’t believe me, we can always shoot the dog and then you’ll see if I’m not right.

  Balder raises his great head and looks at them from the shadows at the corner of the house.

  – See, he’s laughing at you, says Axel.

  Brede ambles over, bends to the dog and scratches behind his ear.

  – You’re not doing that, are you, Balder? You’re not laughing at me.

  The dog’s tail swishes across the grass like a great bushy snake.

  – You shouldn’t say things like that, Axel says, suddenly angry.

  – Like what?

  – What you said about the old man.

  Brede looks at him with narrowed eyes. The look makes Axel even angrier. He pulls open the door, runs into the house and up to the first floor, then on up into the loft. Comes back down with a leather pouch in hi
s hand.

  Brede has got up and is standing beside Balder.

  – What are you going to do with that?

  – You always act so bloody tough, Axel hisses. – Now let’s see how tough you really are.

  He opens the pouch and pulls out the polished black weapon, holds it out to his brother. Brede looks at him, half grins. He takes the gun and releases the safety catch.

  – It isn’t even loaded, he says and hands it back. – Talk about being tough. You’re the biggest yellow-belly round here. You never dare do anything yourself, always get someone else to do it.

  Axel puffs out his cheeks in contempt. He takes aim with the pistol, circling round. Points it at Brede’s temple.

  – Want to bet it isn’t loaded?

  Brede is still grinning, but the grin has stiffened.

  – Why don’t you find out, he says in a low voice. – See if you dare.

  Axel squeezes the trigger. It’s hard and smooth, and the movement of his finger can no longer be stopped. It can be slowed, but not stopped. He turns his hand round and down towards the dog as the gun goes off.

  The nurse with the round glasses bent over him. She still smelt of mackerel, and he opened his mouth to ask her if she would mind not getting so close.

  – Are you up to seeing visitors? she breathed into his face.

  He tried to turn away.

  – Brede? he asked.

  – Your family’s here. Is that his name, your son?

  Marlen slipped into the room and stopped just inside the door. Tom pushed her to one side and opened the door all the way. Then Bie appeared and closed it behind them. She was wearing her short jacket. The black leather looked soft.

  Marlen ventured closer. She peered up at Axel’s face, dropped a bouquet of flowers on to the bed. She put something else there too, a sheet of paper, before taking a few steps back.

  – Is it true that you fought with that bear? she whispered.

  He moved his head carefully, tried to nod.

  – I’ve done a drawing for you.

  He picked it up. Animal shapes against a dark blue background, and a little yellow sun with something bright green in the middle of it.

  – This is your eye in the sky, she explained, still whispering. – It’s a new star now. Right next to Cassiopeia.

  – Come here, he said as distinctly as he could. – You too, Tom.

  They stood by his bed. Tom had his arm around his little sister, as though making sure she didn’t run off.

  – Daniel will be here soon, he said. – His plane lands in an hour. It was me who rang and asked him to come over.

  Axel took his hand. He felt a burning sensation where his eye had been.

  Bie still stood there, a little behind them. Her eyes were as hard as tiny sapphires.

  – I’ll do the right thing, he said.

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