The Redeemer (36 page)

Harry shrugged and consulted his watch. He was too late for the AA meeting. He decided it was time he listened to God's words.

'But when Jesus comes back to Earth who will be able to recognise him?' David Eckhoff shouted, and the flame in front of him flickered. 'Maybe the Redeemer is among us now, in this town?'

A mumble passed through the crowd in the large, white, simply furnished auditorium. The Citadel had neither an altarpiece nor a communion rail but an 'anxious bench' between the gathering and the podium where you could kneel and confess your sins.

The commander looked down on those assembled and paused for effect before continuing. 'For even though Matthew writes that the Redeemer shall come in all his glory, with all the angels, it is also written, "I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me."'

David Eckhoff breathed in, turned the page and raised his eyes to the congregation. And continued without looking down at the scriptures.

'"Then they will answer: Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you? But he will reply: I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the humblest, you did not do for me. And they will be given eternal punishment, but the righteous will be given eternal life."' The commander pounded the lectern. 'What Matthew is saying here is a call to war, a declaration of war against selfishness and inhumanity!' he cried. 'And we Salvationists believe there will be a universal judgement on the Last Day, that the righteous will receive eternal life and that the ungodly will receive eternal punishment.'

When the commander's sermon was over, the floor was open for personal testimonies. An elderly man talked about the battle of Oslo Cathedral square, which they had won with God's words spoken through Jesus and with open-hearted sincerity. Then a younger man stepped forward saying they should bring the evening to a close by playing hymn no. 617 in the book. He stood in front of the uniformed band of eight wind musicians and Rikard Nilsen on the big bass drum and started counting. They played the introduction, then the conductor turned to the audience and they joined in. The hymn sounded powerful in the room. '
Let the flag of redemption wave, onwards now to holy war!
'

When the hymn was finished David Eckhoff approached the lectern again. 'Dear friends, let me conclude this evening's meeting by informing you that the Prime Minister's Office has today confirmed that the Prime Minister will be attending the annual Christmas concert in Oslo Concert Hall.'

The news was met with spontaneous applause. The congregation stood up and made its unhurried way to the exit as the room buzzed with lively conversation. Only Martine Eckhoff seemed to be in a hurry. Harry was sitting on the furthest bench to the back watching her come down the central aisle. She was wearing a woollen skirt, black stockings, Doc Martens like himself and a white knitted cap. She looked straight at him without any sign of recognition. Then her face lit up. Harry got to his feet.

'Hi,' she said, tilting her head and smiling. 'Work or spiritual thirst?'

'Well, your father is quite a speaker.'

'He would have been an international star of Pentecostalism.'

Harry thought he caught a glimpse of Rikard in the crowd behind her. 'Listen, I have a couple of questions. If you feel like walking in the cold I can accompany you home.'

Martine looked doubtful.

'If that's where you want to go,' Harry hastened to add.

Martine looked around before answering. 'I can walk you home. Your place is on the way.'

The air outside was raw, thick, and smelt of fat and salty car exhaust. 'I'll get straight to the point,' Harry said. 'You know both Robert and Jon. Is it possible that Robert might have wanted to kill his brother?'

'What did you say?'

'Think a little before you answer.'

They took tiny steps on the thick ice, past the revue theatre Edderkoppen, through the deserted streets. The Christmas dinner season was coming to an end, but taxis were still shuttling passengers with festive clothes and aquavit eyes up and down Pilestredet.

'Robert was a bit wild,' Martine said. 'But kill?' She shook her head with vigour.

'He may have got someone else to do it?'

Martine shrugged. 'I didn't have much to do with Jon and Robert.'

'Why not? You grew up together, so to speak.'

'Yes, but I didn't have much to do with anyone really. I liked my own company best. As you do.'

'Me?' came the surprised response from Harry.

'One lone wolf recognises another, you know.'

Harry glanced to his side and met teasing eyes.

'You must have been the type of boy who went his own way. Exciting and unapproachable.'

Harry smiled and shook his head. They passed the oil drums in front of the derelict though colourful facade of Blitz. He pointed.

'Do you remember when they occupied the property here in 1982 and there were punk gigs with Kjøtt, The Aller Værste and all the other bands?'

Martine laughed. 'No. I had just started school then. And Blitz wasn't exactly the sort of place we in the Salvation Army would frequent.'

Harry grinned. 'No, well, I went there from time to time. At the beginning, at least, when I thought it might be somewhere for people like me, outsiders. But I didn't fit in there, either. Because when it came down to it Blitz was about uniformity and thinking alike. The demagogues had a field day there, like . . .'

Harry paused, but Martine completed the sentence for him. 'Like my father in the Citadel this evening?'

Harry thrust his hands deeper into his pockets. 'My point is that you soon become lonely if you want to use your own brain to find answers.'

'And what answer has your lonely brain come up with so far then?' Martine put her hand under his arm.

'It seems to me that both Jon and Robert have a number of amours behind them. What's so special about Thea since they both have their eyes on her?'

'Was Robert interested in Thea? That wasn't my impression.'

'Jon says so.'

'Well, as I said, I haven't had a lot to do with them. But I remember that Thea was popular with the boys during the summers we spent at Østgård. Competition starts early, you know.'

'Competition?'

'Yes, boys who want to become officers have to find themselves a girl within the Army.'

'Do they?' asked Harry in surprise.

'Didn't you know that? If you marry outside you lose your job in the Army straight away. The whole command chain is based on married officers living and working together. They have a joint calling.'

'Sounds strict.'

'We're a military organisation.' Martine said this without a hint of irony.

'And the boys knew that Thea wanted to be an officer? Even though she's a girl.'

Martine smiled and shook her head. 'I can see you don't know much about the Salvation Army. Two-thirds of the officers are women.'

'But the commander is a man? And the chief administrator?'

Martine nodded. 'Our founder William Booth said his best men were women. Nevertheless, we are like the rest of society. Stupid, self-assured men ruling over smart women with a fear of heights.'

'So the boys fought every summer to be the one who ruled over Thea?'

'For a while. But Thea stopped going to Østgård all of a sudden, so the problem was solved.'

'Why did she stop?'

Martine shrugged. 'Perhaps she didn't want to go. Or her parents didn't want her to go. So many boys around day and night at that age . . . you know.'

Harry nodded. But he didn't know. He had never even been to a confirmation camp. They walked up Stensberggata.

'I was born here,' Martine said, pointing to the wall that used to run around Rikshospitalet before it was pulled down. Before long the new residential project Pilestredet Park would be there.

'They've kept the building with the maternity ward and converted it into flats,' Harry said.

'Do people really
live
there? Think of all the things that have happened there. Abortions and . . .'

Harry nodded. 'Sometimes when you walk around here at midnight you can still hear the screams of children coming from there.'

Martine ogled Harry. 'You're joking! Are there ghosts?'

'Well,' Harry said, turning into Sofies gate, 'it might be because families with children have moved in.'

Martine slapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. 'No jokes about ghosts. I believe in them.'

'Me too,' said Harry. 'Me too.'

Martine stopped laughing.

'I live here,' Harry said, pointing to a light blue front door.

'Didn't you have any more questions?'

'Yes, but they can wait until the morning.'

She cocked her head to the side. 'I'm not tired. Have you got any tea?'

A car crawled forward on creaking snow, but pulled into the pavement fifty metres lower down and blinded them with bluish-white light. Harry gave her a thoughtful look as he groped for his keys. 'Just Nescafé. Listen, I'll ring—'

'Nescafé's fine,' Martine said. Harry went to put the key in the lock but Martine was a step ahead. She pushed open the light blue front door. Harry watched it spring back and close against the frame, but it didn't snap shut.

'It's the cold,' he mumbled. 'The building's shrinking.'

Harry slammed the door after them, then they went up the stairs.

'Tidy here,' Martine said, taking off her boots in the hall.

'I don't have a lot of things,' Harry said from the kitchen.

'What do you like best?'

Harry gave that some thought. 'Records.'

'Not the photo album?'

'I don't believe in photo albums,' Harry said.

Martine went into the kitchen and slunk onto one of the chairs. From the corner of his eye Harry watched her tuck her legs under her with the agility of a cat.

'You don't
believe
?' she asked. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'They destroy the ability to forget. Milk?'

She shook her head. 'But you believe in records?'

'Yes. They lie in a more truthful way.'

'But don't they destroy the ability to forget?'

Harry paused mid-pour. Martine was chuckling. 'I don't believe in this surly, disillusioned inspector. I think you're a romantic, Hole.'

'Let's go into the sitting room,' Harry said. 'I've just bought a great new record. For the moment it comes without any memories attached.'

Martine slipped onto the sofa while Harry put on Jim Stärk's debut record. Then he sat in the green wing chair and caressed the coarse woollen material to the accompaniment of the first guitar notes. He remembered the chair had been bought from Elevator, the Salvation Army's second-hand shop. He cleared his throat. 'Robert may have been having a relationship with a girl who was much younger than him. What do you think about that?'

'What do I think about relationships between younger women and older men?' She chuckled but flushed deep red in the silence that followed. 'Or whether I think Robert liked underage girls?'

'I didn't say that, but a teenager maybe. Croatian.'

'
Izgubila sam se
.'

'Pardon?'

'That's Croat. Or Serbo-Croat. We used to spend the summer in Dalmatia when I was small, before the Salvation Army bought Østgård. When Daddy was eighteen he went to Yugoslavia to help with recon-struction after the Second World War. He got to know the families of a lot of the builders. That was why he committed us to taking refugees from Vukovar.'

'With regard to Østgård, do you remember a Mads Gilstrup, the grandson of the people you bought it off?'

'Oh, yes. He was there for some days the summer we took it over. I didn't speak to him. No one spoke to him, I remember. He seemed so angry and introverted. But I think he liked Thea, too.'

'What makes you think that? If he didn't speak to anyone, I mean.'

'I saw him watching her. And when we were with Thea all of a sudden there he was. But he didn't say a word. He seemed weird, I thought. Almost a bit scary.'

'Oh?'

'Yes. He slept at the neighbours' house on the days he was there, but one night I woke up in the room where a few of the girls slept. And I saw a face pressed against the window. Then it went. I'm almost positive it was him. When I told the other girls they said I was seeing things. They were convinced there had to be something wrong with my eyesight.'

'Why's that?'

'Haven't you noticed?'

'What?'

'Come and sit here, and I'll show you,' Martine said, patting the sofa beside her. 'Can you see my pupils?'

Harry leaned forward and felt her breath on his face. And then he saw it. The pupils inside the brown irises looked as though they had spilt into the iris, forming a keyhole shape.

'It's congenital,' she said. 'It's called iris coloboma. But you can still have normal eyesight.'

'Interesting.' Their faces were so close he could smell her skin and her hair. He breathed in and had the tremulous sensation of slipping into a hot bath. A short, firm buzz sounded.

It took Harry a moment to realise it came from the door. Not the intercom. Someone was standing outside his door on the landing.

'Must be Ali,' Harry said, getting up from the sofa. 'The neighbour.'

In the six seconds it took Harry to get off the sofa, go into the hall and open the door, it went through his mind that it was too late to be Ali. And he usually knocked, anyway. And if anyone had come in to the block or gone out after Martine and him the main door was bound to have been left open.

It wasn't until the seventh second that he realised he shouldn't have opened up. He looked at the person standing there and had an intimation of what was in the offing.

'Now you're happy, I suppose,' Astrid said with a slight slur.

Harry didn't answer.

'I've just come from a Christmas dinner. Are you going to invite me in, Harry boy?' Her red lips tautened against her teeth as she smiled and her stiletto heels clattered on the floor as she stepped sideways to regain balance.