Burned

She is about to complete the sentence, but breaks off. She, too, is crying now. She steps towards Ingvild, bends down and places her hand on her back. At that moment, Ingvild’s arm shoots out. Henning doesn’t see it until it is too late, but Ingvild has got her mobile out and presses it against Anette’s neck. Zzzzzzt. She gives Anette a shock which floors her. Henning is about to jump on Ingvild to prevent her from releasing more hatred, from taking it out on Anette, who lies unconscious on the grass, face down. But Ingvild holds out her hands as she gets up. She says nothing, she just looks straight ahead with that faraway expression and lets the mobile drop. It lands right next to Anette.

‘You can call the police now,’ Ingvild says to him, quietly. The look in her eyes is dull, vacant. Henning stares at her for a long time before he takes his mobile out of his wet jacket pocket, wipes the display and sees that he has a signal.

Then he calls Bjarne Brogeland.

Chapter 66

Brogeland arrives quickly with a team of police officers. Henning recognises Ella Sandland. He half expects to see the towering figure of Chief Inspector Gjerstad appear and scratch his moustache, but he isn’t there. Nor is Assistant Commissioner Nokleby.

The police start processing the tent and its contents. Sandland takes Ingvild away. Other officers start to dig out Yngve Foldvik. Two ambulance men attend to Anette. Brogeland comes over to him with his eyebrows raised.

‘You’ve got good instincts, Juul, I’ll grant you that,’ he says, placing a hand on Henning’s shoulder. Henning isn’t used to being complimented, nor does he like praise, but he mutters a thank you. He becomes aware that his clothes are sticking to his body and loosens his shirt and trousers a little.

‘Now don’t you go running off again,’ Brogeland smiles. ‘We need to go through this properly, and we’re not doing it by phone this time.’

‘I’ll be outside,’ Henning says.

It has stopped raining when he goes outside and into the fresh air. The wind is chilly. He hadn’t realised that his cheeks were warm, but the icy breeze feels pleasant against his damp, burning hot face. I’m going to get a cold, he thinks. He is soaked to the skin. So what? It’s not like it matters.

He takes out his mobile and rings Iver Gundersen. Gundersen answers immediately.

‘Hi, Iver, it’s me,’ he says.

‘Hi.’

Gundersen doesn’t know yet, Henning thinks.

‘Are you at work?’

‘Yes.

‘Are you in front of the computer?’

‘Yep.’

‘Do you fancy a scoop?’

Silence.

‘A scoop?’

‘Yep. A scoop. Yes or no. If not, I’ll call someone else.’

Henning can hear Iver splutter.

‘No, I, or I mean, yes. Yes, of course I want a scoop. Where the hell are you, eh, what’s happening?’

Henning takes a deep breath of good solid north wind through his nostrils. Lovely.

‘These are my terms. You can ask questions, but not why I want it done in this way. Is that clear?’

‘Henning, I — ’

‘Is that clear?’

‘Christ, Henning, yes, it’s clear.’

Henning grins. He is allowed to have a bit of fun at Gundersen’s expense.

‘Okay, get ready,’ he says.

And he starts with the headline.

Henning wanders up and down while he talks to Gundersen, sneaks a peek at Ingvild and Yngve while Brogeland and his team carry out preliminarily interviews outside the tent. Ingvild and Yngve Foldvik are each wrapped in a blanket. They don’t make eye contact with the police officers who are talking to them.

They don’t look at anyone.

By the time Brogeland beckons him over, it is early afternoon. Traffic has intensified on the Common, newspaper and TV vans have arrived, a crowd of onlookers have gathered, wondering what kind of evil has happened in the tent this time. He doesn’t blame them. He would probably be curious, too. And they will be even more shocked when they read 123news later today, if Gundersen has the brains to make sense of the facts and the chronology.

‘Okay, let’s walk,’ Brogeland says. Henning follows him away from the others.

‘What do you think about all this?’ Brogeland asks him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Is it the end of civilisation as we know it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Henning says.

‘Me neither. Jesus Christ,’ Brogeland exclaims, shaking his head. ‘Can you imagine what kind of future the two of them will have?’

‘No.’

‘Nor can I.’

‘How is Anette doing?’

‘She’ll make a quick recovery.’

‘Are you taking her to the hospital?’

‘No need.’

They walk on. Above them, the clouds move swiftly. The temperature is dropping. His clothes no longer stick to his body.

‘Have you found out what killed Stefan yet?’ he asks. They are heading back to the tent now. Brogeland shakes his head.

‘It’s too early to say, but everything suggests an overdose of pills and alcohol.’

‘So his death is no longer suspicious?’

‘No, doesn’t look like it.’

‘Does that mean you haven’t requested the full range of tests?’

‘It’s not my decision, but, yes, I imagine he’ll go to the back of the queue.’

‘Mm.’