The footsteps continued on up.
As he slipped out through the street entrance, he heard the door opening at the flat where the party was. The volume of the music rose, before he closed the street door behind him and as calmly as he could headed for the corner of Solheimsgata.
23
Karsten is running along a beach but seems to be hardly moving. Someone has made a bonfire, he can see it in the distance; that’s where he’s headed. Adrian is beside him. He can’t turn his head to look at him, but he knows that he’s naked, and it makes him angry. Then Adrian puts an arm around him.
He woke suddenly when the blankets were pulled off him. The ceiling light in the room was on and the Shrimp, he scrawny one called Vemund, was standing there bare chested in his combat trousers.
– Better get up. We’re going on manoeuvres.
The chubby guy was there too, busy getting dressed.
Karsten glanced over at the window. No trace of light outside. – But it’s the middle of the night, he protested.
– No it ain’t, it’s nearly half four.
– Leave me alone, Karsten mumbled, pulling the blankets over himself and turning towards the wall.
Vemund pulled them off him again.
– We’ve got orders to get everyone out of bed. Big fucking girl, that’s what you are. Lying there tickling yourself between your legs. He picked up the maths book that was lying at the foot of the bed. – Fucking hell, laugh yourself to death. What a sicko.
The chubby guy sniggered as he buttoned up his shirt. It was stained with patches of sweat. – He’s actually reading a maths book.
For the first time Karsten noticed that he spoke with a lisp. He was about to offer the guy elocution lessons but controlled himself.
– Give me that book, he said instead to Vemund.
The Shrimp tossed it into a corner of the room. Karsten clambered down from the upper bunk. Adrian’s bed was empty. He wrapped the woollen blanket around himself. Vemund pulled it off him. Karsten stood there in just his boxer shorts, his skin covered in goose bumps.
– No way have you ever shagged a Paki girl. You’re a girl yourself.
Karsten tried to retrieve the blanket. Vemund dropped it on the floor then stood on it, waiting, his fists bunched. The chubby lad stayed in the background.
– Get those boxer shorts off, Vemund ordered.
Karsten stared at his face, the pointed little nose and the red-rimmed eyes.
– We’re going to examine you. Sweaty here knows a kid who was in your class. He said you had your balls removed in an operation. No one here believes you could even shag a sheep. He took a step closer. – Get ’em off.
The fat lad came at Karsten from behind, grabbed the waistband of his boxers. Karsten twisted free.
– Either you take ’em off yourself or we’ll cut ’em off you. Fuck knows what else we might cut off while we’re about it. If there’s anything down there that can be cut off, that is.
They both started laughing as they pushed Karsten up against the windowsill. The fat lad grabbed his hands, twisted them behind his back, bent him forward and held his head in a lock. His shirt was soaking wet and smelt of stale urine. Vemund stood in front of him and farted straight into Karsten’s face. The fat lad cheered. Right then the door opened. Kai stood there.
– Don’t you get it, we’re leaving.
The hold on his neck was released and Karsten pulled his head free. Vemund started to dance around him. – We’re going a few rounds. Need to warm up before we go out into the cold.
He threw a few jabs in the vicinity of Karsten’s head. Kai watched them impassively.
– Two against one, he declared. – If there’s going to be a fight here, then it’ll be two against two. You get to choose whether it’s you or me who fights with Einstein.
Vemund grinned.
– I mean it, Kai continued as he pulled off his vest. His hairless brown chest looked like a wall and his arms like oak trees. He danced towards Vemund, landed a punch on his shoulder. The Shrimp staggered backwards into the wardrobe. – So it’s Einstein and me against you and Sweaty, Kai decided, and landed another punch on Vemund.
– Give over, Vemund whimpered.
– Give over, Kai mimicked, hitting him again, quite hard. – You blow over like someone out of Belsen.
He turned towards Karsten. – You take care of him. Give the guy a couple of black eyes.
He demonstrated with a bit of shadow boxing how to do it. If Vemund had been on the receiving end of those punches, his neck would have snapped.
– I’ll tackle Sweaty, so you can get straight to Vemund.
He turned to the fat lad. Sweaty put his hands above his head and Kai grinned, not that his face looked any less menacing.
– Come on, Karsten, he urged. – Now it’s man against man. Or maybe girl against girl.
Karsten turned and picked up the blanket and his maths book.
– Don’t want to? Kai smirked. – Or don’t dare to?
– The guy is a moron, Karsten said. – And Fatso can’t even speak properly.
Kai dropped the guard that was keeping Sweaty neutralised. – Probably not the smartest thing to say, he declared, pulling his shirt off the top bunk and drying his short bleached hair with it.
In the doorway he turned and pointed his finger at Vemund.
– If you’re tough enough to take on Einstein alone, okay. But if you involve Sweaty then it’s my fight too. I want you sitting in the car in five minutes’ time.
Karsten got dressed and slipped away in search of a place where he could pee in peace. In the grey dawn a couple of snowflakes came drifting down. There was a small garden at the rear of the house. The mongrels in the pen had already caught scent of him and were leaping up and down against the wire. He made a wide arc around them and approached the barn from the back. Through an opening he peeked into a dark space. At the end of the wall a few planks were loose. He poked his head inside. There was a smell of manure and old paint. He made out a few buckets on the floor. Suddenly an animal’s head emerged from the darkness. He shrieked and tumbled backwards. Not until he was back on his feet again did he connect the agitated grunting sounds with the face he had seen. He leaned heavily against the barn wall. The snow had stopped, and a thin sliver of moon slipped in and out through the sharp tips of the spruce. You’re not scared of some poor bloody pig, he thought, but it sounded more like a question, because even that was something he didn’t feel completely sure about.
It was Palm Sunday. They assembled on the lawn, were ordered into four of the cars and drove around, first along the main road and then up side roads. Karsten sat squashed in the back of the Toyota that belonged to the guy they called Sweaty. In the enclosed space of the car the smell of him was even worse. Several times he turned sharply and skidded, causing the toy spider hanging from the rear-view mirror to leap about and wiggle its legs.
Karsten had always suffered from carsickness. – How about leaving the rally cross stuff for another time, he groaned. – Think I’m gonna puke.
Noah, the giant with the Iroquois hair and the flat nose, turned in the front passenger seat.
– You’ve got two choices, he growled. – You can get out here and find your own way back. Or you can shut your mouth.
Karsten looked at the forest whizzing past on both sides of the slushy road and chose the second alternative.
It was still only five thirty when they turned into an area of low buildings and construction machinery, an enormous lunar landscape that terminated in a wall of rock. Enormous chunks of stone that had been blown free lay strewn about. Vemund obviously worked there, and he showed them a factory unit that was no longer in use. This was what they would be warring for. Adrian split them into two groups and issued them with overalls and helmets. The paintball guns were simple to use. Aim and fire.
Vemund went ahead up a crooked staircase on the outside of the building. The corridor inside smelt of a mixture of damp and chemicals. He opene
d a door that led into a huge hall. Daylight was just about visible through the broken windows high up on the walls.
Kai was their team leader. He rigged up two revolving spotlights on the floor and turned them on.
– The uniforms look pretty similar in the dark, he said. – In a situation like that, there’s a real danger of friendly fire. So we need to make some arrangements.
Karsten’s post was next to a pile of pallets. He rubbed his hands together to keep his fingers from going stiff. The lights from the two spots met just below the roof, then turned and continued on their separate rounds. He squeezed the shaft on the thin muzzle, checking that the gas bottle was firmly in place. Noticed how he thought more slowly when he was cold. That was fine; fewer thoughts to worry about. Suddenly he remembered more detail of what he’d been dreaming when they woke him. Adrian had walked up to him on a beach. Jasmeen had been there too. There was something involving her and Adrian, and he tried to think what it was.
He hadn’t heard the door, so he presumed that the figure on its way down the ladder was one of his own. But abruptly there was a sound from a gun over there. He heard something hit the wall behind him, squatted down. At the same instant a door on his right burst open. Running footsteps up in the gallery. The sound of guns. He peered over the topmost pallet. Caught sight of a figure just exiting the cone of light; it might have been Vemund, but he couldn’t stop himself from firing. Heard someone howl, recognised the sound of the Shrimp’s voice.
– Fuck you, you clumsy twat!
Three hours later, they were on their way back to the cars. Vemund stopped them at a ledge. He obviously wanted to play at being the guide, and got everyone to walk to the edge and look down. A deep rift opened up below them. Rocks from the quarry were wedged down it, the largest of them probably weighing several hundred kilos.
– This is the crushing chute. What comes out the other end measures less than a hundred and twenty millimetres.
Just a couple of months ago, he told them, one of his workmates had almost fallen into the chute.
– I expect you’re wondering what would have happened to that soft body of his once they started crushing the granite blocks down there. He looked over at Karsten. The chest of his overalls was drenched in red paint. – After you’ve been turned into chippings, you’re on the conveyor belt that leads to the pulveriser. He pointed over at a pile of grey sand. – Worst-case scenario, you end up as asphalt.
Karsten moved back from the edge of the platform. Sweaty was behind him and pushed him forward again. – Suppose it was you who fell down there, he lisped. – That way at least you’d be some use.
– C3H7COOH, Karsten muttered to himself, the formula for butyric acid. He’d worked out what it was the guy smelled of.
Not until they had eaten the leftovers from yesterday’s meal did Adrian appear, along with Noah. They stationed themselves by the kitchen door, bowls in hand, slurping away. Karsten hurried over.
– Gotta talk to you, he said to Adrian in a low voice, urging him a few steps away from the surly giant.
– Trouble?
– This stuff isn’t for me.
Adrian went on eating.
– Those guys we’re sharing the room with …
– You don’t like them?
– How long do I have to stay here?
– You’re free to go whenever you like, said Adrian, putting down his bowl.
– What should I do when I get home?
Adrian took him out into the corridor. – I understand why you’re worried, Karsten.
He said it in a friendly voice, and Karsten felt like leaning his head against his shoulder.
– I’ve discussed it with a few of the others. We’ll work something out. So you can feel safe. And your family. Until the Pakis stop making threats.
– You mean it?
– We’ll be here for a couple more days. And you’ve got tonight off. A heathen like yourself doesn’t have to participate in the sacrifice.
– Sacrifice? Karsten exclaimed. – Now you’re kidding me.
Adrian patted his shoulder. – You can relax up in your room. Enjoy yourself with your maths book while we’re out celebrating in the woods.
The chubby girl emerged from the living room with glasses and the empty soup bowls in her hands.
– Hi, Vera, Adrian said, and smiled.
– Hi, said the girl, her face blushing furiously behind the freckles.
– Sonja is her grandmother, he explained once she’d disappeared into the kitchen. – Her mother isn’t capable of looking after her. He gestured with a hand towards his upper arm, like someone giving himself an injection. Maybe to make it clear to Karsten that there were other people besides himself who had problems.
24
Dan-Levi looked into the sitting room at the Fagerborg Hotel. There was a cheerful log fire burning, but no one around. It was still not four o’clock, a Tuesday in the middle of the Easter holidays. He delayed going in, went downstairs to use the toilet. Roar had called him earlier that afternoon; it was obvious he needed to talk. Dan-Levi felt pretty sure he knew what about.
By the time he came back up the stairs, his friend was seated at a table close to the fire. His glass of beer was already half empty.
– I don’t suppose you drink beer at Easter? he said as Dan-Levi approached. – Or is it only Whitsun that’s holy for you lot?
The humour was a little strained, and Dan-Levi let it pass without comment. His friend’s fingers toyed with his glass; he seemed out of sorts.
– How was Trysil? Weren’t you supposed to spend the whole week there?
Roar shook his head slowly. – Monica, he said, staring into the fire.
– Trouble?
– In a manner of speaking. She’s dead.
It took Dan-Levi a few seconds to take the news on board. When the waitress reappeared, Roar pointed to his almost empty glass and held up two fingers.
– I found her, he said in a surprisingly professional way. – Her sister called and asked if she was with me in Trysil.
– Wasn’t that the plan?
Roar thought about it. – She changed her mind. We were probably just about to break up. He glanced at Dan-Levi. – Never did understand that woman.
Me neither, Dan-Levi almost said.
– I tried to call. She didn’t answer, neither Friday nor Saturday. Couldn’t get hold of the caretaker either. Her sister kept calling me up, and her mother. Come night I gave in and promised to find out what I could.
The beers arrived.
– I hadn’t given her back the spare key, so I was able to let myself in.
In two swigs he drained half his glass.
– She was lying in the bathtub. Drowned.
– Is that possible?
Roar wiped the foam off his moustache. – It is when you’re stuffed full of Valium and sleeping pills.
– I’d no idea she had that kind of problem.
– She did not have that kind of problem. She was not the type to fucking kill herself.
– No, Dan-Levi agreed, though he wasn’t so sure. And even less sure that suicide had anything to do with the type of person you were. One of the youngsters in his group had committed suicide two years ago, the most cheerful and outgoing of the lot. No one could make any sense of it.
– She must have been lying there since Friday morning, maybe Thursday evening.
– Can’t have been a pretty sight.
– I’ve seen a fair bit in my time.
– But not someone you knew that well.
Roar glanced at him. – Actually she was the one who wanted to call it off.
Dan-Levi realised that what might have been hard for his friend to admit was now a sort of comfort to him.
– Didn’t get the impression you two had a lot to talk about.
– Talk? No, that wasn’t the reason. She didn’t have much interest in sex, to tell the truth.
It wasn’t the first time Roar had given t
his as the reason for the break-up of a relationship.
– I’m feeling pretty bad about a lot of things. He emptied what was left of his beer, turned to the bar, pointed to his glass again. – Not just that it was me who found her. There are a number of other things that don’t add up.
– Such as what?
– Her mobile phone wasn’t there. Nor the spare set of keys.
– Well you had those.
– She had another set. And another thing: why would the chick get into the bath with her panties on?
Dan-Levi scratched his throat. He understood that his friend needed to create a distance from what had happened, but he didn’t like hearing him refer to the dead woman as the chick. They hadn’t even broken up yet.
– So you’re not completely convinced it was suicide?
Roar didn’t reply. The third beer glass appeared on the table. Dan-Levi picked up his phone and informed Sara he would be home later than he’d said, because it was obvious his pal needed him.
They moved on from the fireside, which had actually become a rather gloomy place, and visited a few of the bars in town. In the square, Roar stopped and pointed up at a window. He didn’t need to explain to Dan-Levi that it was there that she had lived.
They ended up in a window seat at Klimt’s. Roar was well away by this time, not that it was noticeable to people who didn’t know him, but he had a particular way of waving his hand as he spoke, his voice was a couple of notches louder than it needed to be, and his flirting with the girl behind the bar was now an openly physical business. Dan-Levi had switched to fizzy water some time earlier.
– You working tomorrow? he asked with a nod in the direction of his friend’s sixth or seventh beer of the evening.
Roar twisted one end of his handlebar moustache around his finger.
– I have to go through everything we’ve got on these bloody fires, he burst out.
Dan-Levi looked round; there was no one sitting near them.
– Have you found more evidence of a connection?
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