'Only place you can hear yourself think.' Eckhoff grabbed the jig.
He had put a box of bait and a knife on some newspaper beside the opening in the ice. The front page announced mild weather from Christmas Day onwards. Nothing about Halvorsen's death. It must have gone to print too early.
'A lot to think about?' Harry asked.
'Hm. My wife and I have to host the Prime Minister during the concert this evening. And then there's Gilstrup's contract that has to be signed this week. Yes, there are a few things.'
'I wanted to ask just one question,' Harry said, concentrating on spreading his weight equally between both feet.
'Uh-huh?'
'I asked Skarre, one of my men, to check if there were any sums of money passing between your account and Robert Karlsen's. There weren't. But he found another Karlsen who transferred regular sums of money. Josef Karlsen.'
David Eckhoff stared into the circle of dark water without batting an eyelid.
'My question,' Harry said, focusing on Eckhoff, 'is why you've received eight thousand kroner from Robert and Jon's father every quarter for the last twelve years.'
Eckhoff jerked as though he had a big fish on the hook.
'Well?' Harry said.
'Is this of any importance?'
'I think so, Eckhoff.'
'In that case it will have to remain between the two of us.'
'I can't promise that.'
'Then I can't tell you.'
'Then I'll have to take you to the station and ask you to make a statement there.'
The commander looked up with one eye closed and scrutinised Harry to gauge the strength of his potential adversary. 'And you think Gunnar Hagen will approve of that? Dragging me down there?'
'Let's find out.'
Eckhoff was about to say something, but paused as though scenting Harry's determination. Harry was reflecting that a man does not become the leader of a flock through brute strength but through his ability to read situations correctly.
'Fine,' said the commander. 'But it's a long story.'
'I have time,' Harry lied, feeling the cold from the ice through his soles.
'Josef Karlsen, father of Jon and Robert, was my best friend.' Eckhoff fixed his gaze on a point on Snarøya. 'We studied together, we worked together and were both ambitious and promising, as they say. But most important of all we shared a vision of a strong Salvation Army that would do God's work on earth. That would prevail. Do you understand?'
Harry nodded.
'We also came up through the ranks together,' Eckhoff continued. 'And, yes, after a while Josef and I were seen as rivals for the job I have now. I didn't think the position was that important, it was the vision that was driving us. But when I was chosen something happened to Josef. He seemed to crumble. And who knows, we don't know ourselves inside out, I might have reacted in the same way. Anyway, Josef was given the trusted post of chief administrator and even though our families kept in touch as before there was not the same . . .' Eckhoff groped for words: '. . . confidentiality. Something was oppressing Josef, something unpleasant. It was the autumn of 1991 when I and our chief accountant, Frank Nilsen, Rikard and Thea's father, discovered what. Josef had been misappropriating funds.'
'What happened?'
'We have, so to speak, little experience of that sort of thing at the Salvation Army, so until we knew what to do Nilsen and I kept it to ourselves. Of course I was disappointed by Josef 's behaviour, but at the same time I could see a cause-and-effect scenario of which I was a part. I could have handled the situation when I was chosen and he was rejected with greater . . . sensitivity. However, the Army was going through a period of poor recruitment at that time and did not enjoy anywhere near the widespread goodwill it enjoys today. We simply could not afford to have a scandal. I had been left a summer house by my parents in Sørlandet which we seldom used, and we intended to take our holidays in Østgård. So I sold it in a hurry and received enough to cover the shortfall before it was discovered.'
'You?' Harry said. 'You patched over Josef Karlsen's embezzlement with your own capital?'
Eckhoff shrugged. 'There was no other solution.'
'It's not exactly commonplace in business for the boss to—'
'No, but this is no commonplace business, Hole. We do God's work. Then it's personal whatever happens.'
Harry nodded slowly. He thought about the carved little finger on Hagen's desk. 'So Josef packed it in and travelled abroad with his wife. And no one was any the wiser?'
'I offered him a job, less high-powered,' Eckhoff said. 'But of course he couldn't accept it. That would have raised all sorts of questions. They live in Thailand, I gather. Not far from Bangkok.'
'So the story about the Chinese peasant and the snake bite was made up?'
Eckhoff smiled and shook his head. 'No. Josef was a real doubter. And that story made a deep impression on him. Josef doubted as indeed we all do at times.'
'You too, Commander?'
'Me too. Doubt is faith's shadow. If you are unable to doubt you can't be a believer. It's the same as with courage, Inspector. If you are unable to feel fear, you cannot be courageous.'
'And the money?'
'Josef insists on paying me back. Not because he wants redress. What happened happened, and he will never earn enough money to pay me back living where he is. But I think he feels the penance does him good. And why should I deny him that?'
Harry nodded slowly. 'Did Robert and Jon know about this?'
'I don't know,' Eckhoff said. 'I've never mentioned it. The one thing I've been at pains to ensure is that whatever their father did does not stand in the way of his sons' careers in the Army. Above all Jon's. He has become one of our most important professional resources. Take this property sale, for instance. First of all, in Jacob Aalls gate, but others, too, in time. Gilstrup may even buy back Østgård. If this sale had taken place ten years ago, we would have had to employ all sorts of advisers to accomplish it. But with people like Jon we have the skills in our own ranks.'
'Do you mean Jon has steered the sale through?'
'No, not at all, the sale was approved at board level. But without his spadework and persuasive conclusions I really don't believe we would have dared to do it. Jon is a man of the future for us. Not to say a man of the present. And the best proof that his father has not stood in his way is that he and Thea Nilsen will be sitting on the other side of the Prime Minister in the VIP box tonight.' Eckhoff frowned. 'By the way, I tried to get hold of Jon today, but he's not answering his phone. You haven't spoken to him by any chance?'
'I'm afraid not. Suppose Jon weren't there . . .'
'Pardon?'
'Suppose Jon had been killed – as the gunman had intended – who would take his place?'
David Eckhoff raised not one but both eyebrows. 'Tonight?'
'I was thinking more of the post.'
'Oh, I see. Well, I won't be giving away any secrets if I say it would be Rikard Nilsen.' He chuckled. 'People have been muttering about parallels between Jon and Rikard and Josef and me all those years ago.'
'The same competition?'
'Wherever you find people you will find competition. Also in the Salvation Army. We have to hope that on the whole trials of strength place people where they do the best for themselves and serve the common cause. Well, well.' The commander pulled up the fishing line. 'I hope that's answered your question, Harry. Frank Nilsen can confirm the story about Josef for you, if you wish, but I hope you understand why I would not like it to get out.'
'I have one last question while we're into Salvation Army secrets.'
'Come on then,' the commander said, impatient now and packing his fishing tackle into a bag.
'Do you know anything about a rape which took place at Østgård twelve years ago?'
Harry went on the assumption that a face like Eckhoff 's was limited in its ability to express surprise. And since this limit appeared to have been exceeded, he considered it fairly certain that his question was news to the commander.
'That must be erroneous, Inspector. If not, it would be terrible. Who was involved?'
Harry hoped his face would not give anything away. 'Professional vow of silence prevents me from saying.'
Eckhoff scratched his chin with the mitten. 'Of course. But . . . hasn't this crime passed its sell-by date?'
'Depends on how you look at it,' Harry said, scanning the shore. 'Shall we go?'
'Perhaps it's best if we return separately. The weight . . .'
Harry swallowed and nodded.
On reaching the beach without a soaking, Harry turned round. The wind had risen and snow was drifting across the ice making it look like a flying smokescreen. Eckhoff seemed to be walking on clouds.
In the car park, the windows of Harry's car were already covered with a fine layer of white frost. He got in, started the engine and put the heating on full blast. The hot air streamed up against the cold glass. While waiting for the windscreen to clear he was reminded of something Skarre had said. Mads Gilstrup had called Halvorsen. He took out the business card he still had in his pocket and dialled the number. No answer. As he was putting the phone back in his pocket it rang. He saw from the number that it was Hotel International.
'How are you?' the woman said in her clipped English.
'So-so,' Harry said. 'Did you get . . . ?'
'Yes, I did.'
Harry took a deep breath. 'Was it him?'
'Yes,' she sighed. 'It was him.'
'Are you absolutely sure? I mean, it's not so easy to identify someone from just—'
'Harry?'
'Yes?'
'I'm quite sure.'
Harry had an inkling that this English teacher had mastered stress and intonation to such an extent that she meant what she said. She was absolutely sure.
'Thank you,' he said and hung up. Hoping with all his heart that she was right. For it would all start now.
And it did.
As Harry activated the windscreen wipers and they pushed the melting frost crystals to both sides, his mobile rang for the second time.
'Harry Hole.'
'This is fru Miholjec. Sofia's mother. You said I could call this number if . . .'
'Yes?'
'Something has happened. To Sofia.'
30
Monday, 22 December. The Silence.
T
HE SHORTEST DAY OF THE YEAR
.
It was on the front page of the
Aftenposten
lying on the table in front of Harry in the doctor's waiting room in Storgata. He checked the clock on the wall. Then realised he had a watch of his own.
'He'll see you now, herr Hole,' called a woman's voice from the hatchway where he had explained that he wanted to speak to the doctor who had seen Sofia Miholjec and her father a few hours ago.
'Third door on the right down the corridor,' the woman called out.
Harry jumped up and left behind him the silent, drooping band of people in the waiting room.
Third door on the right. Of course, chance might have sent Sofia to the second door on the left. Or the third door on the left. But no, third door on the right.
'Hi, I heard it was you,' smiled Mathias Lund-Helgesen, standing up to proffer his hand. 'What can I help you with this time?'
'It's about a patient you saw this morning. Sofia Miholjec.'
'Really? Take a seat, Harry.'
Harry did not allow himself to be irritated by the other man's friendly tone, but this was an invitation he was reluctant to accept. Not because he was too proud but because it was going to be embarrassing for them both.
'Sofia's mother called me to say she had been woken up this morning by Sofia crying in her room,' Harry said. 'She went in and found her daughter bruised and bleeding. Sofia said she had been out with friends and had slipped on the ice on the way home. The mother woke the father and he brought her here.'
'It may be true,' Mathias said. He had leaned forward on his elbows as if to show how much this interested him.
'However, the mother maintains she's lying,' Harry went on. 'She checked the bed after Sofia and her father had gone. And there was blood not only on the pillow, but also on the sheet. "Down there" as she put it.'
'Mm-hm.' The sound Mathias made was neither support nor denial, but a sound which Harry knew for a fact they rehearsed in the therapy unit of the psychology department. Rising intonation on the final syllable was meant to encourage patients to continue. Mathias's intonation had gone up.
'Sofia has locked herself in her room now,' Harry said. 'She's crying and refuses to say a word. And according to her mother she won't, either. The mother has called Sofia's girlfriends. Not one of them saw her yesterday.'
'I see.' Mathias pinched the bridge of his nose. 'And now you're asking me to ignore patient confidentiality for you?'
'No,' said Harry.
'No?'
'Not for me. For them. For Sofia and her parents. And for others he may have raped and will rape.'
'Those are strong words.' Mathias smiled, but the smile faded with the silence. He coughed. 'You understand, I'm sure, that I have to mull this over first, Harry.'
'Was she raped last night or not?'
Mathias sighed. 'Harry, patient confidentiality is—'
'I know what confidentiality is,' Harry interrupted. 'I'm subject to it as well. When I ask you to make an exception in this case it's not because I take patient confidentiality lightly, but because I have made an assessment of the brutal nature of this crime and the potential danger of its recurrence. If you would trust me and rely on my assessment I would be grateful. If you don't you will have to try and live with it as best you can.'
Harry wondered how many times he had given this spiel in similar situations.
Mathias blinked and his face fell.
'It's good enough if you nod or shake your head,' Harry said.
Mathias Lund-Helgesen nodded.
It had done the trick again.
'Thank you,' Harry said, getting up. 'Things going well with Rakel and you and Oleg?'
Lund-Helgesen nodded again with a wan smile. Harry leaned forward and placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder. 'Happy Christmas, Mathias.'