We Shall Inherit the Wind (18 page)

With the ease and grace of a dragonfly the helicopter took off from the quay. For a few, brief instants it hung in the air over Brennøy, and in a swift sweeping scan I saw the whole of the tiny island community, separated from Byrknesøy now for an indefinite period. Outside Naustvik, Kristine and Lars Rørdal stood watching us from below. Ole also had a seat in the helicopter, and the two of them looked strangely abandoned in the car park, along with a handful of cars that would evidently have to be lifted by crane to the mainland. Further up the island we could see other buildings: the chapel, Gunvor Matre’s red house, the dark belt of forest and furthest away, on the rocks in the north-west, the cross, in sharp profile against the bluish-grey sea beyond.

Then the helicopter dipped slightly as it increased speed before straightening up and heading for Bergen. Leaving Byrknesøy behind us, we flew over the southern tip of Sandøy, thereafter straight past Mongstad. A tanker was moored by the vast oil terminal. On the side of the ship, painted in large, white letters was: TWO. From the tall chimney ashore burned the eternal Olympic flame, except that in modern Norway O stood for oil and not Olympic, and no Olympic champions had ever brought so much gold to the country as the floating black-and-yellow remains of plants and animals that the mill of time had left behind on the sea bed off the Norwegian coast.

As we passed Lygra, I leaned forward to the window, located the cabin in Lurefjorden and pointed it out to Hamre. ‘That’s Mons Mæland’s cabin. And there’s the quay in Feste, where his car was parked.’

Hamre nodded and pointed in the opposite direction. ‘And over there is Hundvin, where the car was found.’

I followed his finger. As the crow flies, it wasn’t far. What had he
been doing over there? Had he had a meeting with someone or had he been transported there – after someone had killed him?

Hamre turned right round in his seat and fixed me with a glare. ‘But don’t you get involved, Veum. Not even slightly.’

I nodded, without saying a word, without promising anything, and I saw his eyes flash before he turned round and sat staring ahead for the rest of the trip.

After a short telephone conversation with my insurance company I arranged to pick up a rental car in Flesland. A Corolla, so that I would feel safe, even if it was a much newer model than my own.

Ole Rørdal came back to Bergen with me. He was going to his office in Lille Øvregate, he said. I went home. From there, I called Karin.

‘Oh, thank God. You’re home.’

‘Yes, I was lucky and could take advantage of Hamre’s helicopter service.’ I quickly brought her up to speed on events, then asked: ‘Did you find out anything about Lea, née Rørdal?’

‘Not much more than we already knew. Went missing in 1982. Assumed dead in 1983.’

‘Assumed?’

‘Yes, that’s what it says here.’

‘Well … have you got any plans for the weekend?’

‘Yes, I have actually. Ranveig asked if I’d like to join her at her cabin. She doesn’t want to go there alone.’

‘No, I can understand that.’

‘She wants to go through Mons’ papers. To see whether she can find something useful for what she imagines is going to be a row over the estate with Else and Kristoffer.’

‘When are you going?’

‘I’m going to change into something more practical, then we’ll do some food shopping and make dinner when we’re there. I think it will do her good to think about something different.’

‘Probably.’

‘I’d much rather spend the weekend with you, Varg,’ she added quickly.  

‘Me, too. With you, I mean. Now I don’t know quite what to do. My assignment’s as good as finished, but I think I’ll phone Else. After all, she knew Svenson.’

‘OK.’

‘And Karin, I don’t think you should worry too much about Tangenes any more. I’ve spoken to his employer, and I think he got the point, so to speak.’

‘Good,’ she said lightly, unable to conceal the tinge of nervousness in her voice. ‘Look forward to seeing you on Monday then.’

‘Yes, have a good weekend.’

‘Same to you. I’ll be thinking about you.’

‘I know you will.’

After hanging up I called Else Mæland. Her voice was tearful as she answered. I said my name and asked if she wanted an eye-witness’s report. She did.

She opened the door herself when I rang the doorbell this time. Her face was tear-stained, and she was holding a little towel in her hand. It was clear that she had tried to wash the tears from her cheeks but without complete success. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there was a tightness to her mouth as she desperately tried to hide the quivering of her lips. She looked shockingly young, like a confirmand who has just experienced the bitter facts of life for the first time. When she saw the plasters on my face she burst into tears again. So all her efforts had been in vain.

I went inside and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She hesitated for a moment, then she came close, buried her face in my chest and cried without restraint. I put my arms around her, stroked her back and mumbled softly: ‘There, there … There, there.’ Obviously this death had meant much more to her than the death of her own father.

I cast my eyes around. There was complete silence in the flat. Not a sound to be heard apart from the wracking sobs of the woman in my arms.

After some minutes the sobbing subsided. She gently detached
herself and looked at me, ashamed. ‘I’m sorry, but … this is too unbearable to think about.’

I nodded. ‘Is there no one else here?’

She looked around. ‘No, they’re out … at a party probably. Come in. I’ve put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘Please.’

I followed her into the kitchen, where she pulled out a chair from under the tiny table by the window, which on this side of the house faced the stream of traffic in Ibsens gate. But now it was Friday evening, and the gaps between cars passing were longer than in the rush hour, straight after work.

She took tea bags from a kitchen drawer, put one in each of the two large mugs and poured hot water from the white kettle. ‘Sugar?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘I think I’ve got a few biscuits if you’re hungry.’

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘I haven’t had a bite of food since I heard.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Ole rang and said.’

‘Your cousin.’

‘Yes.’

‘You didn’t mention a word last time we spoke – or on the island – about you being related.’

‘No. I thought you knew.’

‘I considered you a couple.’

‘Ole and me?’ She gaped in surprise.

‘So it was Stein and you?’

She blinked several times, as if to hold back the tears. Then she gave a nod; it was barely perceptible.

‘I happened to be standing by the window when Ole and you passed by on Tuesday night. I’d seen Ole and Stein arguing on the quay, and I heard Ole say as you passed: “We’re not terrorists for Christ’s sake!”’

She looked at me, expectantly, without saying anything.

‘Were they arguing about sabotaging the bridge?’  

She seemed to be mulling over the question, but it was more likely she was weighing up how much she was willing to tell me. ‘Yes, it probably was. Ole was against it.’ Then she hurriedly added: ‘I was, too.’

‘Ole might have been thinking about his mother’s business.’

‘Ole thought about everyone! They’d fought for years and years to get a bridge, and when the very last bridge comes, in a few years’ time, over Brandanger Sound, they’ll be part of the mainland, the whole of Outer Gulen. Blowing up a bridge was like … was like … smashing their own spine. The whole community’s.’

‘But Stein wasn’t bothered about that?’

‘No.’

‘So how did the argument finish?’

‘It didn’t! Stein was annoyed and refused to go back to the cabin. He insisted on sleeping on board the boat instead.’

‘And the next morning he was gone. Until we found him later in the day, all trussed up.’

She didn’t meet my eyes; she stared down at the table. ‘Yes …’

‘Yes?’ I repeated, more insistent now. ‘That might not have come as much of a surprise to you?’

Now she did look up. ‘Oh, yes it did!’

‘So what is it you’re not telling me?’

She swallowed. ‘I …’

I waited. When she didn’t go on, I said: ‘You slept on the boat as well, didn’t you.’

She looked at me and blinked hard once. In a frail voice she answered: ‘Yes …’

She had gone back to the cabin with Ole, got into bed, but she couldn’t sleep. So she had got up again and returned to the boat.

‘How much later was this?’

‘Well, half an hour maybe.’

‘And there was no one else about at this time?’

‘No, who could there be?’

‘Well …’ Trond Tangenes, for example. Or some others.

However, she hadn’t seen anyone, and when she had returned to the
boat she had climbed on board, gone down to Stein, who was in bed but couldn’t sleep, either. ‘I stayed there until the morning. But I went back to my room before anyone else had woken up.’

‘Why? You’re adults. You were then as well.’

‘There had been enough arguments as it was. Ole didn’t like us being …’

‘Lovers?’

‘Together.’

‘In other words, you were the last person to see him before he was attacked?’

‘Probably. But the attack …’

‘Yes?’

‘Does it matter now? After all that has happened since? Stein has … gone, and so has Dad …’ Her eyes searched mine helplessly. ‘I simply don’t understand what’s going on here.’

The doorbell rang. She jumped, and I could see her hesitation. She half-stood up and looked at me as if my being there made her feel guilty. The bell rang again. Then she decided and went out. I got up from the chair. Afterwards I heard a voice in the hall. It was Kristoffer, and he would hardly be expecting to meet me here.

She had already told him I was there, and there was no sign of surprise in his face when he came through the door, only measured curiosity. ‘Veum …?’

‘Yes, I’m sort of reporting back.’

‘About what happened on Brennøy today?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah, I can see you were hurt, too.’

‘Nothing that a couple of plasters can’t remedy.’

Kristoffer shook his head. ‘It’s incomprehensible what these groups can get up to! As if what we’re doing is damaging to society, when it’s just the opposite – something future generations will thank us for.’

Else came alongside him. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Well, you go into the sitting room and I’ll be right in. Veum, if you take your cup …’

I nodded and followed Kristoffer into the sitting room. It was furnished as rooms in collectives often are, with a jumble of furniture bought from Fretex, the Salvation Army shop, and an impressive sound system along one wall the only modern feature.

Kristoffer turned to me. ‘What are you actually doing here, Veum?’

‘I was there when the explosive went off. Your sister wanted more information than she had gleaned from the news. Of course she knew the deceased.’

He sighed. ‘Yes …’ Then a twitch seemed to go through him. ‘You were there, you say? Today as well?’

‘Yes, I’d been given an assignment – by someone on your side of the debate – to sniff out what was behind these allegations of irregularities when the land was sold to your father in 1988.’  

‘Stine Sagvåg?’

I neither confirmed nor denied his guess.

‘Well … And what did you find out?’

‘So far there’s absolutely nothing to suggest the sale shouldn’t have gone through, and now that Svenson’s dead … I don’t think it’s the biggest problem you have with regard to public opinion.’

‘No? What do you think is then?’ His tone was sarcastic.

‘Logistics, above all else, now that the bridge is in ruins.’

‘We’ll work that out.’

‘And, in addition, a man has sacrificed his life in the fight against the wind turbines. And you’re just going to motor on as before? Good luck, I say. I’m afraid the wind is going to get a lot stronger. Just wait until you read the newspaper headlines tomorrow morning.’

He clenched his teeth. ‘If we’d known this when we bought the land, then …’

‘Do you remember anything about it?’

‘When Dad bought it in 1988? Nothing at all. I was eighteen and probably had other things on my mind.’

Else came in from the kitchen. This time she had brewed the tea in a pot. She poured us all a cup and then sat down. ‘You still haven’t told me what actually happened,’ she said quietly.

‘No, that’s true. We were distracted.’

I told them in the simplest possible terms what I had seen, without going into any detail about the meetings with Bjørn Brekkhus and Gunvor Matre. They sat silently listening to the description of Ole’s arrival, how he and I had run to Brennøy Sound and the bridge, Ole’s attempt to stop Svenson and finally the moment I would never forget, when the explosive ignited and we were hurled through the air, all three of us.

Else sat with widened eyes, which filled with tears when I came to the explosion. Kristoffer’s face became sterner and sterner.

After I had finished, Else said: ‘But Ole and you … Was he injured?’

‘No more than me. Stein was unlucky and was …’ I paused, ‘crushed by falling concrete.’  

Else breathed in sharply. ‘Falling concrete!’

I nodded.

‘Environmental terrorism pure and simple!’ Kristoffer exclaimed. ‘That’s what I’d call it.’

Else looked at him. ‘He was desperate, Kristoffer! It was his commitment that made him act in such a desperate way.’

‘Commitment! But this is an
environmental
matter, Else! How many times do I have to say it? The wind farm is for the good of the environment.’

Again she looked terribly young. ‘Yes, but not everyone believes that … As if it matters what we believe today.’

For a while we sat without speaking. I took a swig of tea. It tasted of apple and cinnamon. Through the windows we heard the sounds of children playing in the yard. Else looked utterly drained. Kristoffer had sunk into himself; was he wondering what strategy he should choose with regard to public opinion and his contacts at Norcraft and TWO so that the project could be completed without any major delays?

I broke the silence. ‘You went to Ranveig’s yesterday, I heard.’

Else glanced at her brother, then answered: ‘Yes, and? There’s a lot we have to get cleared up.’

‘It wasn’t the most tranquil of meetings, I understand.’

‘Tranquil! That woman has a lot to answer for, I can tell you that.’

‘Yes, she got that point. She said you threatened her.’

‘Threatened?’ Kristoffer leaned across the table. His sister placed a hand on his arm, but he wasn’t to be held back. ‘I’m sorry to have to say this. What she and Dad have on their conscience … If we end up in court there’ll be a washing of dirty laundry she’ll regret having started for years to come.’

‘And you’re referring to …?’

‘To the circumstances surrounding my mother’s death. Even if she was difficult to deal with, she definitely didn’t deserve this.’

‘You mean it wasn’t an accident?’

‘They killed her!’  

‘Kristoffer,’ Else chided softly, but he ignored her.

‘They either indirectly drove her to her death – or they did it on purpose.’

‘Ranveig said that your father could never have done such a thing.’

Kristoffer scowled. ‘And her? Or someone else?’

‘Another person?’

‘Let me tell you something, Veum. Something we’ve discovered.
I’ve
discovered. It started in 1984, two years after she’d disappeared.’ He glanced down for a second, as though reflecting. ‘A few weeks ago I managed to access my father’s account, through a connection in the credit branch . That is, he accessed it. And he gave me some startling information.’

‘Which was …?’

‘Four times a year, from 1984 onwards, Dad transferred a fixed sum to a bank account in Sweden. Over the years it has totalled an amount close to a million Norwegian kroner.’

‘Goodness me!’

‘You can say that again. I asked my contact to check who the account belonged to. I was given a name. A certain Stig Magnusson, who resides in Malmö.’

‘Did you confront your father with this information?’

He blushed. ‘How could I do that? How could I reveal that I had wriggled my way into his account? That would have brought my contact into disrepute as well. But I told Ranveig yesterday.’

‘She didn’t say anything about it.’

‘No? Don’t you find that strange?’

‘Yes. Or … Maybe not. What did she say?’

‘She denied everything. Had no idea what the money was, she said. Had never heard about it.’

‘And?’

He splayed his hands. ‘Well? What do you expect? Her to lay all her cards on the table, sixteen years after the event?’

‘All her cards? What do you think these payments are for?’

‘You know, job-related stuff. Dad was in contact with a variety
of people. I don’t know if you knew, but this Trond Tangenes who appeared on Wednesday had done some work for us, too.’

My neck tautened. ‘I see! Did you have him go to Brennøy this time as well?’

‘No, no. What damn good would that do? My understanding was Glosvik was behind that.’

‘Yes, that was my understanding as well. So, what did you use him for?’

‘Well, debt collection. Outstanding claims. That kind of thing.’

‘Uhuh. And what’s your point?’

‘This Stig Magnusson. What if he was the same sort? What if Dad got him in to do work he wasn’t man enough to do himself?’

‘Are you thinking about your mother?’

‘I don’t know. But close on a million kroner, Veum. That’s a lot of money.’

‘Yes, I wouldn’t have said no to such a payout. If I had earned it, that is.’

‘Exactly. You have to earn a sum like that.’

‘Have you tried to contact Magnusson?’

‘No, but I rang the police. That is, I rang Bjørn Brekkhus, who led the investigation at the time. He was like an uncle to us when we were small. Wasn’t he, Else?’

Else smiled sadly and nodded confirmation.

‘I rang him to ask if they had known about Magnusson back then. “No”, he said. But … By 1984, in reality, the investigation had been shut down for some time. Had they known this then … But now there’s nothing he can do.’

‘What did he recommend?’

‘Actually he recommended I forget the whole business. If not, I should contact Magnusson directly.’

‘And did you?’

He sighed. ‘No. There were too many other things to take care of, and then Dad’s disappearance …’

‘Did anything happen in 1984 that could shed some light on this?’  

‘No. The account just showed a mass of bank transfers. Properties bought and sold. The payments could have been a perfectly normal business transaction. But not that long afterwards and not regularly, four times a year.’

‘What about a loan, on the black market?’

He sent me a doubtful look. ‘Yes … Maybe. But in that case it’s odd Dad didn’t share the information with the rest of us.’

‘He wanted to spare you the agony perhaps. Or he was embarrassed that he’d had to resort to such measures. Who knows?’

‘And then he came into money that year, of course.’

‘Oh?’

‘Mum’s life insurance policy paid up. I think that was in 1984.’

‘I see. When did you talk to Brekkhus about this?’

‘A week ago. The end of last week.’

‘Well, you’ve got an inheritance dispute ahead of you, so I’m sure all the dubious entries in life’s ledger will come up, both moral and pecuniary.’

‘I’m looking forward to that,’ he said with a caustic little smile. Then he indicated Else, and said: ‘But now I’ve got something to discuss with my sister, a private matter. Is there anything else on your mind?’

There was. But I chose to keep it to myself.

I drained my tea. Else accompanied me to the door without even the most fleeting of glances. Ranveig had been right about her. When her brother was around she didn’t say a lot. Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that she had gone to others to register a protest – against what her brother stood for.

Before getting in the car I looked for Ole’s mobile number and rang him. He answered quickly, in an irritated tone. ‘Yes?’

‘Varg Veum here. Are you still at the office? I’d like a word, if it’s possible.’

‘What about?’

‘Stein Svenson.’

‘Is there any more to say about that case?’

‘I think so.’

‘Alright then. Fine. You know where to find me.’

As I got back behind the wheel I said to myself: When will you learn to drop a case, Varg? Will you ever learn? As I started the car I answered my own question: No. Never.