Blood Brothers (28 page)

“I . . . I recognized you from your picture. Were you waiting for me?”

“I was. I was in Oslo and thought I would stop by and talk to you informally. Do you have a few minutes?”

“I was on my way to the gym,” she said, looking up at him uncertainly, “but, uh, of course I would be happy to talk to you.”

“Good. I saw a park down the street. What do you say we go for a walk?”

“Sure.”

They stepped out onto the sidewalk and turned toward the park. “How long have you been with the company, Berit? About three years?”

“Three and a half. Ever since I graduated.”

“How do you like it?”

“I really enjoy it. Bjornsen Norge is a great place to work.”

“And you’ve been a good employee. I’ve seen your performance evaluations.”

“Thank you.”

They left the sidewalk and entered the wide green spaces of the park. Yelling children and chatting mothers packed a playground about fifty meters away, but otherwise there were few people nearby—and none within earshot. “Sometimes even good employees make mistakes, Berit.”

She looked at him nervously. “I—I—” she stammered.

“Sometimes they use cocaine,” Karl continued. “Sometimes they do worse things, like give confidential information to outsiders. Sometimes they even get mixed up in arson and attempted murder.”

She stopped and stared at him with round, terrified eyes. Her face was white beneath her tan. “That wasn’t me! I—” She snapped her mouth shut.

“But you know who it was,” said Karl, “or at least you can make an educated guess. You have been calling and e-mailing some people in Russia on a regular basis. Dangerous people. Maybe they were paying you for information, or maybe they were blackmailing you. It doesn’t matter now.

“One day, you found a piece of information that would be especially valuable to them—you discovered that someone had been going through their files. And then you told them, right?”

She nodded and looked down. “I don’t know how the Russians found out about me, but they said they would tell the company and the police about my . . . my bad habits if I didn’t give them information and documents. But that’s all I did. I swear it. I had no idea they would try to kill anybody.”

Karl stopped and grabbed her arm—not violently, but with great strength. “What did you think would happen? What did you think your Russian friends would do when you told them someone was looking at those records?”

She looked up at him and started to shake. “I . . . I don’t know. I just thought . . . I don’t know what I thought. It was a terrible mistake and I’m very sorry.” She paused and licked her lips nervously. “Have you told the police?”

“Not yet,” replied Karl. He felt a surge of pity for her as she stood there frightened and quivering. “But they will have to know soon. In the meantime, you may be able to help clean up this mess.”

“That would be great. I really appreciate this opportunity, Mr. Bjornsen. Just let me know what I can do to help.”

“You can start by telling me everything you know—your contacts, exactly what information you gave them, and so on. And Berit—”

“Yes, Mr. Bjornsen?”

“Do not lie to me or hold anything back. If you do, I will find out and things will go badly for you. Very badly. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Bjornsen.”

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

W
ITNESSES

It had now been six days since the telephonic hearing, and Ben felt that he couldn’t wait any longer to talk business with Henrik Haugeland. He hadn’t heard any definitive news about Einar’s condition, but he needed to start planning for trial. If he was going to have to try this case without Henrik’s testimony, he needed to know now.

He knocked on the door to Einar’s hospital room, and Henrik opened it. He looked tired and pale, but he smiled and his voice was lively. “Good afternoon, Mr. Corbin. How are Noelle and the baby?”

“They’re doing well. Noelle will be on crutches for a few weeks, but she should make a full recovery. The doctor says she can be discharged in a day or two. Eric is doing well too, but he’ll need to stay here for about three more weeks. How’s Einar? We’ve been praying for him.”

“Thank you,” replied Henrik. “God has answered all our prayers. Einar will live, and he has no brain damage. He does have damage to several bones and internal organs, so he will be in the hospital for several months and will have certain permanent problems. But he is in good spirits, and we are all very happy with his progress.”

“That’s great. I’ll let you get back to him, but when you have a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you about something else.”

“We can talk now if you like. Einar just went to sleep, and his mother and sister are with him.”

“Okay, can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?” offered Ben.

“I have already drunk five cups today, but I would enjoy a short walk. I have sat in a chair for most of the day.”

“A walk it is, then.”

Five minutes later, they were strolling along a well-kept path that ran through a small glade of pine and birch trees behind the hospital. “What was it you wanted to discuss?” asked Henrik.

“Your testimony at the trial. I assume you’ll want to stay in Norway until Einar is better, but if you have the time and inclination, I’d like to videotape your testimony so that we can play it for the jury. That’s completely your decision, though. I’ll fully understand if you’d rather focus on more important things, and I’m sure Gunnar will understand too.”

“Would it be better for you if I came to America to testify?”

“I’m not asking you to do that,” replied Ben. “I just—”

Henrik smiled and held up his hand. “I know you are not asking me to do it. I am asking if you would have a better chance of winning if I did.”

“Well, yes.”

“Then I will come.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to. You believe Karl Bjornsen was responsible for the attack on my son and your wife, yes?”

Ben pressed his lips together and looked Henrik in the eye. “Yes. I think he either ordered the attack himself or knows who did.”

Henrik returned Ben’s gaze, and there was a grimness in his face that Ben hadn’t seen before. “So do I. I will do everything I can within the law to make sure he hurts no one else. Removing him from control of Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals will make him much less powerful, and hopefully much less dangerous. I will come to America to testify.”

Two days after Noelle left Rikshospitalet, she and Elena went for a walk in the Vigeland sculpture garden in Frognerparken, home to the granite and bronze “no-waist nudes” that grace many postcards from Oslo. Noelle was still on crutches, so Elena had suggested that they visit someplace where they could sit down. But Noelle said she had done plenty of sitting over the past week and a half and would really like to get off her rear end, which she was convinced had grown significantly during her involuntary inactivity.

So Elena walked and Noelle hobbled along the wide, crushed-rock paths of Frognerparken. It was a very public place with crowds of tourists and a significant police presence, but a pair of armed undercover officers accompanied them nonetheless, strolling watchfully a few feet on either side of them.

They walked slowly and stopped frequently, both because of Noelle’s condition and because it was a hot August day. Their conversation drifted fitfully among various banal topics—the statues they walked past, the weather, the relative merits of Norwegian and American ice cream. Noelle got the distinct impression that Elena wanted to talk about something but was having trouble coming to the point, so Noelle did it for her. “So, by this time tomorrow, you’ll be back in America,” she said as they sat down on a well-shaded bench. “Looking forward to it?”

Elena stretched out her long legs and leaned back against the warm concrete of the bench. “Yes, I guess so. I don’t want to leave you and Ben in the lurch, but things are piling up back at the Bureau and I can’t keep asking people to cover for me.”

“We’ll be fine,” replied Noelle. “But it will be a while before you and I see each other again. Was there anything you wanted to talk about?”

“I . . . Well, yeah,” Elena admitted. Her tan face grew grave and she sat forward. “I wanted to let you know how sorry I am about all this.” Noelle opened her mouth to protest, but Elena hurried on. “No, wait. Just let me get this off my chest. I know you don’t blame me, but I blame myself, okay? I blame myself for not spotting that guy in the parking lot. I blame myself for going shopping while you guys were busy making copies and stuff. I blame myself for not getting permission to bring a gun. I’m sorry and I wanted to tell you before I left. That’s all.”

Noelle realized that it would be useless to try to argue Elena out of her guilt. She patted her friend’s arm reassuringly. “You’re right. I don’t blame you. Neither does Ben. And even if there is something we should blame you for, we forgive you. So don’t worry about it—or try not to, anyway.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. I really do. Einar and Henrik said pretty much the same thing when I talked to them. Everyone’s being so nice about this, so understanding.” She sighed and smiled. “It almost makes it worse.”

“Okay, then I take it back,” replied Noelle with a wink. “I hate you and never want to see you again. Better?”

Elena laughed. “Much, thanks. Seriously, you’ve been a real friend about this. I won’t be able to be here with you after tomorrow, but I, uh, I’ll be praying for you.”

Being back in LA felt so good that even the rush-hour traffic didn’t bother Kim. She was heading west on Highway 10 and the traffic was completely gridlocked due to construction. She watched the sunset and sang along with the car stereo. Chicago had been a lot of fun, and working at Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals had been a great experience, but it was wonderful to be home. She had missed it more than she realized.

It also felt good to be driving to David’s apartment. When she’d left for the summer, she had been a little worried about what would happen to their relationship. It was the first time they’d been apart for longer than two weeks, and she had heard stories about how the younger nurses went after med-school students interning at the hospitals. But David had remained true. He had continued to seem a little odd even after he had gone off the Neurostim, but she hoped that was just a result of the strain of having been apart for so long.

He wasn’t expecting her back until tomorrow, but she had finished up at Bjornsen a day early and had been able to change her tickets. She had told her parents, but decided to surprise David. She smiled at the thought of how he’d react when he opened his door and saw her standing there.

The traffic finally started moving, and half an hour later she was parked outside David’s building. She reached into the backseat and grabbed David’s gifts: a Chicago Cubs shirt and a large box of Fannie May Mint Meltaways. She spotted his battered Impala as she got out of her car and smiled. At this hour, he should be back from work, but it was good to see proof.

She went up to his apartment and pushed the doorbell. She could hear the chimes faintly inside, followed a few seconds later by David’s voice calling, “Just a second.”

A moment later, she heard approaching footsteps and David opened the door. Kim was surprised at how much of a difference a few months had made in his appearance. She could tell that he had been working out, which was a welcome change. The long, slightly messy hair she remembered had been trimmed and gelled into a professional-looking cut. The biggest change was in his face, though—there was a light in his eyes that was both exciting and a little disconcerting.

He stared at her for a second and she beamed back at him. Then he let out a happy whoop, yelled “Kim!” and swept her up in a passionate kiss. The candy and T-shirt she had been holding dropped to the floor and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She heard a couple of doors open and close as David’s neighbors looked out to see what was causing the commotion.

He finally came up for air nearly a minute later. “Wow, you missed me!” said Kim as she picked up her packages. “I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that before.”

“Really? I should have,” he replied. “It’s great to see you. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“I know. I thought I’d surprise you.” She bent down and picked up the mints and T-shirt and handed them to him. “Here are a couple of souvenirs from Chi-Town.”

“Thanks, these are terrific. Come on in. I’ve got a couple of good bottles of wine I picked up at a new little winery last weekend. What do you say we get a couple of glasses and open one?”

“Actually, I’m starved. How about going out for some dinner?”

“We could order some pizza,” he countered.

“I’ve had pizza like four or five times a week all summer,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s do something else. What about that little French place with the romantic candlelight?”

His face clouded and his eyes flashed. For a moment, she was afraid he would get mad, but then he smiled. “Sure, babe. Whatever you say. It’s your first night back in town. Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

He turned and walked back into his apartment as she trailed behind. “Okay, I’ll just wait in the living room,” she said as he disappeared into the bedroom. As she started to sit down on the sofa, however, she realized that an hour and a half on the freeway had left her with an uncomfortably full bladder. She went into the bathroom, but saw an empty roll on the toilet-paper holder. There weren’t any other rolls visible, so she turned to the small cabinet under the sink.

When she opened the doors, she immediately forgot about her bladder. Crammed in among the bathroom supplies was a cardboard box full of pills. The pills weren’t labeled, but Kim didn’t need labels to recognize them. She gingerly picked up a capsule and emptied it onto her palm. The yellow granules looked all too familiar. She sniffed them. As she suspected and feared, they had a woody, faintly bitter smell that she knew well from trips to the production floor at Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals.

She stood up slowly, threw the empty capsule in the toilet, flushed it, and washed her hands. Then she walked back out to the living room. She thought about just leaving, and took a step toward the door, but then she stopped.
No, I need to talk to him first.
She sat down stiffly on the sofa and waited for David to come out of the bedroom. At last, the door opened and he emerged wearing a white polo shirt and crisply creased khaki slacks—both new additions to his wardrobe since the beginning of the summer. “So, how do I look?” he asked with an expectant grin.

“You look great,” she replied. “But, uh, David, I went into the bathroom while you were getting ready. There wasn’t any toilet paper so I, well, I looked under the sink and—”

“What were you doing going through my stuff?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry. I had to go to the bathroom and I didn’t think you’d mind.”

David glared at her. “I mind you digging around in my cabinets!”

She dropped her eyes from his. “David, there was Neurostim in there, lots of it. It’s totally illegal for you to have that.”

“What I keep under the sink in my bathroom is my own business,” he snapped. “I didn’t get it from you, so why do you care? I didn’t steal it or kill anybody, so leave me alone!”

“How did you get it?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Yes, it is!” she shot back. “You got that from the company I worked for, and if anyone ever finds out—”