We Shall Inherit the Wind (5 page)

He leaned across the table. ‘You have no idea what they’re capable of. They’re ruthless when someone’s in their way.’

‘Who do you mean? Norcraft?’

‘Or others.’

‘Others? Who?’

‘I have no more to say, Veum.’ He stood up. ‘I’ve got bigger fish to fry. If something’s happened to Mons Mæland, I can’t help you. Sorry.’

I stood up, too. ‘Svenson said something about some action planned for Wednesday. Is that what you’ve been arguing about?’

He shrugged.

‘What’s the plan?’

‘You think I’d tell an outsider? My lips have seven seals.’

‘Won’t those seals break on Judgement Day?’

‘This is not Judgement Day, Veum.’

‘Maybe not, but what about Wednesday?’

His eyes glinted. Then he indicated that the audience was over. To emphasise his point, he walked to the door.

‘Chow!’ he said, grinning as I left. ‘That’s Italian. Means time for some grub.’

He shut the door behind me as I mumbled: ‘I’ve heard that one before.’

Out on the street I looked left and right. No one was waiting to buttonhole me about my investigation or whatever else might occur to them. I needed a beer, but for the time being I would have to make do with the bottle of water I had in my car.

When I reached my car I still had ten minutes left on my parking ticket. I used the opportunity to ring Ranveig Mæland to ask whether she had heard anything from her husband. She hadn’t. ‘I’m seriously concerned,’ she said.

‘I’ve spoken to Kristoffer. He didn’t know anything, either. Have you been in touch with Else?’

‘Yes, she rang. Kristoffer had told her what was going on. That Mons was missing.’

‘And what did she say?’

Ranveig hesitated. ‘She’s not easy to draw out, but she was as surprised as everyone else.’

‘She hadn’t heard from him, either?’

‘No.’

‘Perhaps I ought to have a chat with her myself.’

‘Why?’

‘There might be things she doesn’t like talking to her stepmother about.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, you disagreed about the wind farm, for example.’

‘For goodness’ sake! She’s only a child.’

I rewound. ‘Nineteen or twenty, isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wouldn’t describe her as a child any more.’

‘Oh really! You can describe her as you like, of course. So long as you get a result.’

‘OK. Since we have no other substantial clues to follow, I’ll go to Brennøy tomorrow. Have you ever been there?’  

‘Brennøy? No, never.’

‘So you’re not going this time, either?’

‘For the survey you mean?’

‘That’s one possibility.’

‘You go. I’ll hold the fort back here in case he gets in touch.’

‘Don’t forget to tell me if he does.’

‘Naturally. I wasn’t going to pay your fee for a moment longer than necessary.’

‘Fitting epitaph for my gravestone. But for the time being … see you.’

I rang off. After considering what she had said for a moment I called Directory Enquiries and asked for Else Mæland’s telephone number. She had only a mobile number, they said, and asked if they should put me through. ‘No, thank you,’ I replied, but I noted the number and tapped it into my mobile.

Then I rang Enquiries again, and it didn’t take them long to find the number of Naustvik Hotel & Harbour on Brennøy, either. I dialled the number and a woman answered. When I asked whether she had a room free for Tuesday, she burst into laughter. ‘One? You can have the whole lot if you like.’ Then she backtracked. ‘No, I was joking. Several of the other rooms are taken.’

‘I only need one.’

She jotted down my name and asked if I was interested in having dinner. ‘It’s perfectly OK to cook in the cabins, but many guests like to order a meal.’

‘Thank you. I think I’ll join the latter.’

‘We look forward to seeing you tomorrow then,
herr
Veum.’

‘Just a quick question. Do you know someone called Mons Mæland?’

There was a tiny, barely perceptible pause. ‘Yes?’ Now she didn’t sound quite so friendly. ‘What would you like to know?’

‘Have you seen him recently?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Tell me, what is this about?’

‘The thing is, he’s disappeared.’

‘Disappeared? Mons?’

‘Yes.’

‘But that’s terrible. He’s supposed to … There’s supposed to be some sort of survey here on Wednesday. They’ve booked a conference room with me, for afterwards.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I don’t understand, but at any rate he’s not here, as I said.’

‘Well, we can talk more when I’m there. Tomorrow.’

‘Yes …’ She hesitated, and I had the feeling she was about to discover that the hotel was booked up after all. I concluded the conversation and rang off before she had a chance.

I stuffed my mobile into my side pocket, pulled away from the kerb and headed for Ǻrstad. At Haukeland Hospital I turned onto the Kronstad road and found a place to park down a side street, then continued to Ibsens gate on foot.

Else Mæland’s flat was in a block with an entrance directly onto the street, which was probably one of the busiest in Bergen. The cars were so close it would have been useful to wear a gas mask, and the queue moved so slowly that Mr and Mrs Snail on a Sunday outing would have been able to keep up. The result was filthy grey deposits around the green front door, and the handle of the door felt sticky as I pressed it down and pushed. In the dark hallway I found her name along with four others all on one post box, two men and two women apart from her.

I took the stairs. On the first floor I found the same names on a scrap of cardboard beside the door handle. I buzzed and waited. Then the door opened and a long-haired young man in a T-shirt, jogging pants and trainers examined my face inquisitively. ‘Yes?’

‘Else Mæland … is she in?’

He turned and shouted into the flat. ‘Else! Visitor!’

He stood in the doorway staring at me without much interest as we waited. Then I heard the patter of bare feet behind him. ‘Who is it?’

He shrugged and made room for her.

I summoned a friendly smile and said: ‘Varg Veum. I’m trying to find your father. Have you got a moment?’

Her face changed. Then she nodded with a grave air. ‘Yes, Ranveig said. Come in.’

The young man stepped aside and let me pass. I followed her into a long corridor reeking of a potent herb I couldn’t quite place. From one of the rooms I heard loud music with a heavy bass and when she ushered me into hers the music came through the wall so loudly we might just as well have been sitting in the same room.

‘I live here,’ Else said, with a wary smile. She looked younger than I had expected. Her hair was smooth and fair, none of her brother’s curls, and she had it gathered in a ponytail. She was dressed simply: blue jeans and a red T-shirt. Her face was even, quite narrow, and her eyes were the same light blue as her brother’s, vaguely reminiscent of gun-smoke.

The room was spartan: a sofa bed in one corner, a couple of chairs round a little table in the opposite corner. There were built-in cupboards, and on the walls there were large posters of the same kind I had seen at Ole Rørdal’s: beautiful pictures of nature, encouraging you to fight for the environment with Gaia – an ecology organisation – which was written in big, blue letters on one of them.

Through one window in the room I could see the tops of the trees, which were still green. Once again I was reminded that, even in heavily trafficked areas, there were hidden idylls, in this case on the side of the house that didn’t face the street.

‘Grab a chair,’ she said, and I chose the one that looked the more comfortable of the two she had: a battered, reddish-brown armchair. She sat on the edge of her sofa bed and looked at me expectantly.

‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

‘No worries,’ she said. ‘We’re going to eat soon, but it’s not my turn to cook today, so …’

‘You’re all students, are you?’

She nodded.

‘As I said, I’ve been commissioned to investigate your father’s disappearance. You haven’t heard from him, either, I understand?’  

‘No.’ She eyed me with concern. ‘Not a word since Saturday, it must be. He rang from his cabin then.’

‘To tell you something?’

‘No, to wish me a good weekend. We chatted a little.’

‘Nothing came up to suggest he had any travel plans?’

‘Not at all. Now, after Kristoffer rang, I’ve been trying to call him, but I just get the standard voicemail answer on his mobile.’

‘How is … Are you frequently in touch with each other?’

‘Mostly on the phone. You know what it’s like … Everyone’s busy. I have my own life. Kristoffer has a wife and small children, plus more and more responsibility at MRE. Ranveig and us … I suppose you’ve heard what happened to our real mother?’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘When Mummy drowned I was only four. Kristoffer was twelve. When she and Dad … Ranveig, I mean … When they decided to get married we were a couple of years older, but for some reason we never had a very close relationship with her. I always thought about … Mummy.’ She stared into the middle distance, and her face puckered in sadness. ‘That had been hard enough, from what Kristoffer told me.’

‘Yes, he mentioned that to me as well. Do you remember any of it?’

She stroked an invisible strand of hair from her forehead, played with her ear lobe and looked past me. ‘No, I must have repressed it. But what I will say is that Ranveig never managed to fill her shoes. Not even she could do that. And now – now we’re adults. It’s very rare that we eat with them. For Christmas and Easter maybe, and if Dad has an important birthday. We never go to the cabin. I’m uncomfortable there after
that
happened. It was several years before Dad started going there again. With Ranveig.’

‘And your father: What’s your relationship like with him?’

She tossed one shoulder. ‘We never really thought …’

I waited. In the end I said: ‘Thought what?’

‘Well … that he would get married so quickly. To her.’

‘Yes, but he was still a relatively young man.’  

‘They knew each other before Mummy disappeared as well.’

‘You can remember that?’

‘No, not me. I was four, as I told you. But Kristoffer told me.’

‘Ah, do you mean …? Are you suggesting that they had a relationship even then?’

‘No, but things go through your head.’ She tossed her shoulder in the same quirky way, and I was beginning to understand more and more about why family meals in the Mæland household were few and far between.

‘The sole clue I have so far is Brennøy.’

‘Right.’

‘Have you ever been there?’

‘Not for many years, but I’m tempted to go.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Because of the wind farm that’s planned.’

‘You’re against it, I gather. So is your father.’

‘As of quite recently, yes.’

‘Quite recently?’

‘In the last month or so. Are you hard of hearing or what?’ She glowered at me as if to show how hopeless she thought I was. After a brief pause she added: ‘We got him on our side anyway.’

‘We?’

‘I got him on our side! For Christ’s sake!’

‘But Kristoffer and Ranveig, they hold the opposing view.’

‘Kristoffer just wants to earn money, and she … She has her mind on profit as well. The more money Dad has, the more for her. They’ve been on quite a few luxury trips in recent years while … Dad never went to places like that when he and Mummy … Fishing in Lure Fjord, that was his idea of happiness.’

‘This change of heart of your father’s …’

‘He was definitely on the cusp the last time we spoke to him.’

‘Someone must have a good reason to keep him away from the survey on Wednesday, in other words.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You don’t mean …’  

I shrugged. ‘Norcraft Power, others with vested interests in the project, what do I know?’

‘I can’t believe that. After all, this is Norway.’

‘The sunny side of life where it’s all fun and laughter and liquid gold from the North Sea?’

She swallowed. ‘Well …’

I leaned forward again. ‘It was my understanding, from your brother, that you’ve got shares in the company.’

She looked a trifle embarrassed. ‘Yes, but they’re just something I inherited. I’m not in the slightest bit interested in them.’

‘Nevertheless, if you and your father stuck together you’d be the majority shareholders, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes …’ She seemed unsure. ‘We probably would be. But as I said, that’s not something I go around thinking about.’

‘Nonetheless. You and your father could put a stop to the sale to Norcraft, if it came to a vote. You could bring all the speculation about the wind farm to an abrupt halt.’

‘Yes, I suppose we could …’

‘Have you talked about it?’

‘No. I think Dad was counting on persuading Kristoffer – in a peaceful manner, if you understand what I mean.’

‘And now, now that he’s gone?’

Her lips quivered. ‘Yes, if he … if he’s gone for good his estate would have to be distributed and his shares re-allocated. How that would end I have no idea. It’s not exactly the sort of thing that keeps me awake at night.’

‘No – what is then?’

‘What?’ She looked at me, confused. ‘Erm … other things.’ She moved her gaze to the poster on the wall above me. ‘How the earth’s going to fare, for example.’

‘Gaia?’

‘Yes?’ Now she looked aggrieved. ‘If only a few more people thought the way we do, then …’

‘Then everything in the garden would be lovely and green?’

‘Anything else you’d like to talk about? If not I …’ she snapped, making for the door. Then she turned to me again.

I got up as well. ‘No, I don’t think there is, for today.’ I gave her my card. ‘Here you are. If you hear from your father, or if you remember something that might be significant, then don’t hesitate to contact me.’

She glanced at the card. ‘Alright.’

She accompanied me to the apartment door. The smell of food was stronger now. From the kitchen I heard voices, a high-pitched woman’s voice and a darker bass. Their laughter mingled like a musical piece they were rehearsing.

Else Mæland closed the door as soon as I was in the corridor, as though afraid I would turn back on the threshold and ask another unpleasant question. I trudged down the stairs and out.

While I was waiting for the green man at the zebra crossing further up the street, I wondered what Ibsen had done for Bergen to have this street named after him. However, when the street was named it was probably a great deal more idyllic up here, with grass to the south, where FC Brann would soon site its football ground, scattered houses up towards Kronstad and horses and carts on the road to and from the farms in Fridalen and Landås. Now the traffic crept past in one long, slow stream, like an endless cortege on its way to burying someone, whoever the dead person was this time.