They were sitting in the back of an SUV on the way from the custody block to the apartment in Oslobukta. They had been allowed to leave via the subterranean tunnel to Police HQ to avoid the posse of journalists at the exit. Krohn had hired a car and people from a security company Røed had used before, Guardian. It had been done on the advice of Harry Hole and his rationale had been simple. Six people had at one point been in the same room with a few lines of green cocaine. Of these, three had been murdered by what increasingly seemed to be an insane serial killer. The likelihood of one of the three remaining people being next in line was not sky-high, but high enough for it to make good sense to hole up in a breach-proof apartment with bodyguards for a while. Røed had, after some deliberation, agreed. Krohn suspected the two bull-necked men in the front seats were inspired by the Secret Service in choice of suits, sunglasses and workout regimens. He was unsure if the reason the black off-the-peg suits appeared so tight was due to muscle mass or bulletproof vests. But he was sure that Røed was in good hands.
‘Ha!’ Røed exclaimed. ‘Listen...’
Krohn had of course read Daa’s column but could bear to hear it again.
Røed turned to the lawyer.
‘Do you think that part about the bear is a pun on...?’
‘No.’ Johan Krohn smiled. ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Good question, what am I going to do?’ Røed asked, handing Krohn back his phone. ‘What do released prisoners usually do? Party, of course.’
‘I would advise against that,’ Krohn said. ‘The eyes of the whole country are on you, and Helene...’ His voice trailed off.
‘Her body isn’t cold yet, you mean?’
‘Something like that. Besides, I’d like as little traffic as possible.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that you stay put in the apartment, just you and your two new friends. At least for the time being. You can work from there.’
‘Fine,’ Røed said, ‘but I’ll need a little something... to keep my spirits up. If you know what I mean.’
‘I think I do,’ Krohn sighed. ‘But can’t that wait?’
Røed laughed and laid a hand on Krohn’s shoulder. ‘Poor old Johan. You don’t have many vices but you probably haven’t had too much fun either. I promise not to take any chances. I do actually want to keep this beautiful, unique...’ He drew a circle over his head.
‘Good,’ Johan said, and looked out the window, at the strict yet playful design of the Barcode buildings that had brought Oslo into this century. He dismissed the thought that had been in his mind for a fraction of a second. That he would not have mourned very long if Markus Røed were to be decapitated.
‘Shut the door behind you, please,’ Bodil Melling said as she stepped out from behind her desk.
Katrine closed the door behind her and Harry, and sat down at the table where Sung-min was already in place.
‘What do we have?’ Melling said, sitting at the end.
She was looking directly at Katrine, but Katrine nodded towards Harry, who was still getting settled in his chair.
‘Well,’ Harry said, pausing until he had found his preferred, half-lying position. Katrine saw the impatience on the Chief Superintendent’s face. ‘The Forensic Medical Institute called me and—’
‘Why you? If they have something to report then they ought to ring the detective leading the investigation.’
‘Maybe so,’ Harry said. ‘Anyway, they said—’
‘No, I want this cleared up first. Why didn’t they contact the lead detective?’
Harry grimaced, stifled a yawn and looked out the window as though the question were immaterial.
