Killing Moon полностью

‘Våge is making stuff up,’ Truls said, putting three large pizza boxes on the table and tearing off the lids. ‘VG have it up on their website now. They have sources saying Våge was fired from Dagbladet because he was concocting stories. I could’ve told them that.’

‘Could you?’ Aune looked at him in surprise.

Truls just grinned.

‘Ah, smells like pepperoni and human flesh,’ Øystein said, getting to his feet.

‘Jibran, you have to help us eat this,’ Aune called over to the neighbouring bed where the vet lay with his headphones on.

While the other four crowded around the table, Harry sat on the floor with his back against the wall reading VG’s webpage. And thinking.

‘By the way, Harry,’ Øystein said, his mouth full of pizza, ‘I told that girl at the Forensic Medical Institute we’d meet in the Jealousy at nine tonight, all right?’

‘OK. Sung-min Larsen from Kripos is coming as well.’

‘What about you, Truls?’

‘What about me?’

‘Come to the Jealousy. It’s 1977 today.’

‘Huh?’

‘1977. Only the best tunes from 1977.’

Truls chewed while he scowled distrustfully at Øystein. As though he was unable to decide whether he was being made fun of or if somebody was actually inviting him to hang out.

‘All right,’ he said finally.

‘Excellent, we’ll be the dream team. This pizza’s going fast here, Harry. What are we doing anyway?’

‘Pulling in the net,’ Harry said without looking up.

‘Eh?’

‘I’m wondering if I’m going to try getting Markus Røed that alibi he doesn’t want.’

Aune approached him. ‘You seem relieved, Harry.’

‘Relieved?’

‘I won’t ask but I’m guessing it has something to do with what you didn’t want to talk about.’

Harry looked up. Smiled. Nodded.

‘Good,’ Aune said. ‘Good, then I’m a little relieved too.’ He shuffled towards the bed.

At seven o’clock Ingrid Aune arrived. Øystein and Truls were in the cafeteria, and when Ståle went to the bathroom, Ingrid and Harry were left sitting alone in the room.

‘We’re heading off now, so the two of you can get some peace,’ Harry said.

Ingrid, a small, stocky woman with steel-grey hair, a steady gaze and the residue of a Nordland accent, straightened up in the chair and took a deep breath. ‘I’ve just come from the senior consultant’s office. He’s received a report expressing concern from the head nurse. About three men who tire Ståle Aune out with their numerous and lengthy visits. As the patients tend to find it difficult to say it themselves, he was wondering if I could urge you to curtail the visits from now on as Ståle is entering the final phase.’

Harry nodded. ‘I understand. Is that what you want?’

‘Absolutely not. I told the consultant that you need him. And...’ She smiled. ‘That he needs you. We need something to live for, I said to him. And sometimes something to die for. The consultant said they were wise words, and I told him they weren’t mine, but Ståle’s.’

Harry smiled back. ‘Did the senior consultant say anything else?’

She nodded. Turned her gaze to the window.

‘Remember that time you saved Ståle’s life, Harry?’

‘No.’

She gave a brief laugh. ‘Ståle has asked me to save his life. That’s how he put it, the nitwit. He’s asked me to get hold of a syringe. He suggested morphine.’

In the ensuing silence, Jibran’s steady breathing as he slept was the only sound in the room.

‘Are you going to?’

‘I am,’ she said. Her eyes filled with tears and her voice grew thick. ‘But I don’t think I can manage it, Harry.’

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. Felt it tremble weakly. Her voice was only a whisper.

‘And I know that’s what I’m going to feel guilty about for the rest of my life.’

Trans-Europe Express

Prim read the article on VG’s website once more.

It didn’t directly say that Våge had falsified his stories but that was the subtext. Nevertheless, if they weren’t saying it directly that had to mean they had no proof. Only he, Prim, could prove it, tell them what actually happened. Once again, this instilled in him that warm, intoxicating sense of control which he hadn’t anticipated, but was a pure bonus.

He had been thinking over and over ever since this morning, when he saw the small notice in Dagbladet about Terry Våge being taken off their crime cases. Prim had understood why right away. Not only why Våge had been removed, but why Dagbladet had drawn attention to it instead of just letting it happen quietly. They knew they had to actively distance themselves from Våge before the other newspapers confronted them with the lies they had published about cannibalism and resewn tattoos.