Harry Hole Mysteries 3-Book Bundle (108 page)

‘Don’t …’ Harry started.

But too late.

The explosion was not technically an explosion but – as it would appear in the report the fire chief would sign the following day – an explosion-like fire triggered by an electric spark from cables connected to a canister of ammonia gas that in its turn ignited the PSG painted over the whole ceiling and splattered on the walls.

Harry gasped as the oxygen in the room was drawn into the flames and he felt an immense heat bear down on his head. He automatically fell to his knees and ran his hands through his hair to see if it was alight. When he looked up again, flames were coming off the walls. He wanted to breathe in, but managed to stop the reflex. Got to his feet. The door was only two metres away, but he had to have … he stretched for the sheet of paper. For the missing page from the Håvass guest book.

‘Move away!’ The officer appeared in the doorway with the fire extinguisher
under his arm and the hose in his hand. As though in slow motion, Harry saw it squirt out. Saw the golden-brown jet released from the hose splash against the wall. Brown that should have been white; liquid that should have been powder. And already, before he looked into the jaws of the flames that rose on two legs and roared at him from where the liquid landed, before he smelt the sweet sting of petrol in his nostrils, before he saw the flames follow the jet of petrol towards the officer standing in the doorway, with the handle still depressed, in shock, Harry knew why the extinguisher had been hanging from the middle of the lunch-room wall, on display, impossible to miss, red and new, screaming out to be used.

Harry’s shoulder hit the policeman at waist height, folding him over the rampaging inspector and knocking him backwards into the room with Harry on top.

They sent a couple of chairs flying as they skidded under the table. The officer, gasping for air, gesticulated and pointed while opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Harry turned. Wrapped in flames, the red extinguisher rumbled and rolled towards them. The hose was spitting melted rubber. Harry shot up, dragging the officer after him, pulled him to the door as a stopwatch ticked timelessly in his head. He shoved the swaying officer out of the room, onto the gallery, thrust him down to the floor alongside him as it came, what the fire chief in his report would describe as an explosion, and which blew out all the windows and set fire to the entire lunch room.

T
HE EVENING DARKNESS HAD DESCENDED OVER
N
YDALEN.
Harry stood with a blanket over his shoulders and a large paper cup in his hand as he and Bjørn Holm watched the smoke divers running in and out with the last PSG buckets that would ever leave the Kadok factory.

‘So he’d pinned up the pictures of the murder victims, had he?’ Bjørn Holm said.

‘Yep,’ Harry said. ‘Except for the prostitute in Leipzig, Juliana Verni.’

‘What about the page? Are you sure it was from the Håvass guest book?’

‘Yes. I saw the guest book when I was in the cabin and the pages were identical.’

‘And so you were standing half a metre from the name of the eighth guest, but you didn’t see it?’

Harry shrugged. ‘Perhaps I need reading glasses. Things happened bloody quickly in there, Bjørn. And my interest in the page waned rather when the officer started spraying petrol.’

‘Course, I didn’t mean—’

‘There were some letters on the wall. From what I could see they were blackmail letters. Maybe someone had already rumbled him.’

A fireman came towards them. His clothes creaked and groaned as he walked.

‘Kripos, aren’t you?’ The man’s voice resonated in a way that matched the helmet and boots. And he had body language that said boss.

Harry hesitated, but confirmed with a nod; no reason to complicate matters.

‘What actually happened in there?’

‘That’s what I’m hoping you boys will eventually be able to tell
us,’
Harry said. ‘But in general terms I think we can say that whoever found himself a rent-free office in there had a clear plan for dealing with uninvited guests.’

‘Oh?’

‘I should have known as soon as I saw the neon tubes on the ceiling. If they’d been working, the tenant wouldn’t have needed a desk lamp. The switch was connected to something else, some kind of ignition device.’

‘You think so, do you? Well, right, we’ll get some experts in tomorrow morning.’

‘What does it look like inside?’ Holm asked. ‘The room where it started.’

The fireman scrutinised Holm. ‘PSG on the walls and ceiling, son. What do you
think
it looks like?’

Harry was tired. Tired of being on the receiving end, tired of being afraid, tired of always being too late. But right now most tired of grown men who never tire of playing cock of the walk. Harry spoke in a low voice, so low that the fireman had to lean in to hear.

‘Unless you’re seriously interested in what my forensics officer thinks about the room you’ve just sent umpteen smoke divers into, I suggest you spit out what you know in concise but exhaustive terms. You know there was a guy sitting there planning six or seven murders. Which he carried out. And we’re
very
interested to know if we can expect to find clues which might help us to stop this very, very bad man. Can you be concise like that?’

The fireman straightened. Coughed. ‘PSG is extremely—’

‘Listen. We’re asking you for the consequences, not the cause.’

The fireman’s face had gone a colour that was not solely due to the heat from the burning PSG. ‘Burned out. Totally burned out. Papers, furniture, computer, the lot.’

‘Thank you, boss,’ Harry said.

The two policemen watched the fireman’s back as he left.

‘My
forensics officer?’ Holm repeated, pulling a face as if he had swallowed something nasty.

‘Had to sound like a bit of a boss, too.’

‘Good to outsmart someone when you’ve just been outsmarted yourself, isn’t it?’

Harry nodded and pulled the blanket around him more tightly. ‘He said burned out, didn’t he?’

‘Burned out. How does that feel?’

Harry stared miserably at the smoke still seeping out of the factory windows into the fire service’s searchlights.

‘Like being knobbed in Nydalen,’ he answered, draining the rest of the cold coffee.

Harry drove away from Nydalen, but got no further than the red lights in Uelandsgate before Bjørn Holm rang again.

‘Forensics have done tests on the semen on Adele’s ski pants, and we’ve got a DNA profile.’

‘Already?’ Harry exclaimed.

‘Partial profile. But enough for them to state with
93
per cent certainty that we have a match.’

Harry sat up straight in the seat.

Match.
What a wonderful word. Perhaps the day wasn’t a waste after all.

‘Out with it then!’ Harry said.

‘You’ve got to learn to savour dramatic pauses,’ Holm said.

Harry groaned.

‘OK, OK. They found the matching DNA profile with hair from Tony Leike’s hairbrush.’

Harry stared into the distance.

Tony Leike had raped Adele Vetlesen at the cabin.

Harry hadn’t seen it coming. Tony Leike? He couldn’t make it tally. Violent criminal, yes, but to rape a woman who’s come to a cabin with another man? Elias Skog said he’d seen him holding her mouth and pulling her into the toilet. Perhaps it wasn’t a rape when it came to the crunch?

And then – all of a sudden – it did come to the crunch.

Harry saw it, crystal clear.

It wasn’t a rape. And there it was: the motive.

The cars behind hooted. The lights had turned green.

I
T WAS A QUARTER TO EIGHT, AND THE DAY HADN’T YET
adjusted colour and contrast. The grey morning light showed the countryside in a grainy black-and-white version as Harry parked beside the only other car by Lake Vøyentangen and ambled down to the jetty. County Officer Skai was standing at the edge with a fishing rod in his hand and a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Wisps of mist hung in the air like cotton wool around the reeds poking up from the black, oil-smooth water.

‘Hole,’ said Skai without turning. ‘Up early.’

‘Your wife said you were here.’

‘Every morning from seven to eight. Only chance I have to think before the hustle and bustle starts.’

‘What have you caught?’

‘Nothing. But there are pike in the reeds.’

‘Sounds familiar. ‘Fraid the hustle and bustle starts a bit earlier today. I’ve come about Tony Leike.’

‘Tony, yes. His grandad’s farm was in Rustad, east of Lake Lyseren.’

‘So you remember him well?’

‘This is a small place, Hole. My father and old Leike were friends, and Tony was here every summer.’

‘What memories do you have of him?’

‘Erm, funny guy. Lots of people liked him. Especially the women. He was pally with the girls, a sort of Elvis type. And managed to surround himself with a lot of mystery. Rumour was he had grown up alone with
his unhappy, alcoholic mother until one day she sent him packing because the man she was with didn’t like the boy. But women round here liked him a lot. And he them. That occasionally got him into some trouble.’

‘Like when he cosied up to your daughter?’

Skai flinched as if he had got a bite.

‘Your wife,’ Harry said. ‘I asked her about Tony, and she told me. It was your daughter Tony and a local boy were fighting over that time.’

The policeman shook his head. ‘They weren’t fighting, it was butchery pure and simple. Poor Ole, he’d got it into his head that he and Mia were a couple because he’d fallen in love with her and was allowed to drive Mia and her friend to a dance. He wasn’t a fighter, Ole, he was more the bookish kind. But he went for Tony. Who laid him out flat, drew a knife and … it was pretty nasty, we’re not used to that sort of thing here.’

‘What did he do?’

‘He cut off half his tongue. Put it in his pocket and left. We arrested Tony half an hour later at his grandfather’s, told him the tongue was needed at the operating theatre. Tony said he’d fed it to the crows.’

‘What I wanted to ask was whether you had ever suspected Tony of rape. Then or at any other time.’

Skai spun round.

‘Let me put it this way, Hole. Mia was never the same happy-go-lucky girl again. She still wanted the headcase, of course, but that’s the way girls are at that age. And Ole moved away. Every time the poor kid opened his mouth round here it was a reminder for him and others of the dreadful humiliation. So, yes, I would say that Tony Leike is the violent type. But, no, I don’t think he raped anyone. If so, he would have raped Mia, if I can put it like that.’

‘She …?’

‘They were in the woods behind the dance hall. She didn’t let Tony have his way. And he accepted that.’

‘You’re sure? Sorry I have to ask, but it’s—’

The hook leapt out of the water towards them. It glinted in the first horizontal rays of the sun.

‘That’s fine, Hole. I’m police too, and I know what you’re working on.
Mia’s a decent girl and doesn’t lie. Not even in a witness box. You can have the report if you want the details. I would just prefer it if Mia didn’t have to go through all of this again.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Harry said. ‘Thank you.’

Harry had informed the detectives assembled in the Odin conference room that the person he had seen under the snowmobile – who had still not been found despite the increased police presence – had Tony Leike’s arthritic fingers. And then recounted his theory. He leaned back and waited for reactions.

The Pelican peered over her glasses at Harry, but seemed to be addressing the whole morning gathering.

‘What do you mean you think Adele was willing? She was screaming for help, for goodness’ sake!’

‘That was what Elias Skog thought at a later point,’ Harry said. ‘His first impression was that he was watching two people having consensual sex.’

‘But a woman who takes a man with her to a cabin doesn’t have sex with a casual interloper in the middle of the night! Do you really have to be a woman to understand that!’ she hissed, and with her new, sensationally unbecoming dreadlocks she reminded Harry of a furious Medusa.

The response came from Harry’s neighbour. ‘Do you really think gender automatically affords you superior knowledge of the sexual preferences of half of the earth’s population?’ Ærdal paused and studied the freshly cleaned nail on his little finger. ‘Hasn’t it already been made clear that Adele Vetlesen changed partners at the drop of a hat and frequently? She agreed to have sex with a man she hardly knew at a disused factory in the middle of the night, didn’t she?’

Ærdal lowered his hand, started work on the ring finger and mumbled so low that only Harry heard it. ‘Anyway, I’ve fucked more women than you, you scrawny wader bird.’

‘Women fell easily for Tony and vice versa,’ Harry said. ‘Tony arrived at the cabin late, Adele’s boyfriend was annoyed about something and had gone to bed. He and Adele were able to flirt undisturbed. He was
having trouble on the home front, and she had started to lose interest in the man she was there with. Adele and Tony fancied each other, but there were people everywhere in the cabin. So later that night they sneaked out and met by the toilet. They kissed, groped, he stood behind her, pulled down his pants and was now so excited that there was what they call in the Sexual Offences Unit “pre-ejaculatory fluid” on the tip of his penis, which went over her ski pants before he could pull them down, and they had intercourse. She was so loud in her ecstasies that she awoke Elias Skog who watched them from the window. And I believe they woke her boyfriend up as well and that he saw them from his room. I don’t think she could have cared less. Tony, on the other hand, tried to stifle her cries.’

‘If
she
couldn’t have cared less, why would he?’ the Pelican burst out. ‘After all, it’s women who are stigmatised by this kind of looseness while men’s status is only enhanced. Among other men, mind you!’