Burned (15 page)

‘I don’t know.’

‘Could you try?’

He sees what she means.

‘Have you got some pictures for me to look at?’

She nods gravely.

‘I could always give it a try,’ he says.

Chapter 26

‘Are you always like that?’ Brogeland asks as he sits down at a table and opens up a laptop. They have relocated to a smaller room. Henning sits on the other side of the table and watches Brogeland clicking and typing on the tiny keyboard.

‘Like what?’ Henning replies.

‘Disrespectful and arrogant?’

Brogeland turns the laptop towards him and smiles. The question takes Henning by surprise. He turns down the corners of his mouth and tilts his head, first to the left and then to the right. If he hopes to turn the officer in front of him into a potential source, arrogant and disrespectful behaviour isn’t the recommended approach in
Journalism for Dummies.
So he says:

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to.’

He holds up his hands.

‘I’m not quite myself after what happened. It’s not every day I witness a murder. I’m not usually like this. It’s probably a defence mechanism or something.’

Brogeland nods.

‘I understand.’

It’s not a bull’s-eye, but he hits the target, at least. Brogeland pushes the computer a little closer.

‘Use the arrows to go forwards and backwards. If you want to have a closer look at one of the pictures, you just click on it.’

‘These people all have form?’

‘Yes. I’ve selected offenders with an immigrant background. I’ve add a couple of other criteria as well.’

Henning nods and starts scrolling through the pictures.

‘So, Bjarne, what have you been up to since you left school?’ he asks while he looks at the screen.

‘A bit of this and that, like most people. After A-levels, I joined the Army, I was abroad for one year, Kosovo, and then I did a three-year degree course at the Sports College. After that, I applied to the police. And I’ve been here ever since.’

‘Family?’

Henning despises himself right now.

‘Wife and child.’

‘Your wife – is she someone I know or would know of?’

‘I doubt it. I met her at Sports College. Anita’s from Hamar.’

Henning nods while he carries on looking. He does recognise some of the faces, but only because he has written about them previously, or seen them in the papers.

‘Do you enjoy being a police officer?’ he fawns and wants to puke.

‘Very much so, though it’s a tough job. I don’t get to see as much of my daughter as I would like. Antisocial working hours. There’s always an investigation going on.’

‘How old is your daughter?’

‘Three. Three and a half,’ Brogeland adds quickly.

‘Lovely age,’ Henning says and regrets going down this route immediately. He hopes Brogeland will refrain from asking the question which would traditionally follow his, and says:

‘What’s her name?’

‘Alisha.’

‘Nice name.’

Henning feels the bile rise in his throat with yesterday’s coffee.

‘My wife wanted an international name. So our kid can live abroad without having to spell her name all the time.’

Bjarne laughs briefly. Henning tries to laugh too, but it sounds forced, so he stops and concentrates on the laptop. Faces, faces, and more faces. They reek of crime. Angry eyes, embittered mouths. But no killer.

He must have been pressing arrows for around fifteen minutes, when Brogeland says:

‘Do you think the killer got a look at you?’

Henning lifts his eyes from the screen and stares at the Inspector. Funny how that never occurred to me, he thinks.

‘I don’t know,’ he replies and visualises his own flight. The killer mostly saw his back, but there was a moment when their eyes met. And it’s not easy to forget Henning’s face.

Yes, he saw me, he concludes. He must have.

He looks at Brogeland and knows what he is thinking. If Forensics don’t find any evidence that proves the killer was at the crime scene, then
only
Henning can place him there. In a subsequent trial, Henning’s testimony makes it a penalty kick into an open goal.

Only one thing is required.

That Henning stays alive.

Chapter 27

Forty-five minutes later, he taps the screen eagerly with his index finger. Brogeland gets up and comes round to his side of the table.

‘Are you sure?’

Henning looks at the man’s crooked upper lip.

‘Yes.’

Brogeland’s eyes light up. He takes over the computer, turns it away from Henning, sits down, types and clicks.

‘Who is he?’ Henning asks. Brogeland looks up over the screen, his eyes flickering slightly.

‘His name’s Yasser Shah,’ he says reluctantly. ‘But don’t you dare put that in your paper.’

Henning holds up his hands.

‘What’s he done?’

‘Nothing much. He has a couple of convictions for possession. Petty crime, small stuff, really.’

‘So he has gone from small-time dealing to hired killer?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘Hm.’

‘He belongs to a gang that calls itself BBB. Bad Boys Burning.’

Henning wrinkles his nose.

‘What kind of gang is that? I’ve never heard of them.’

‘One which has come to our attention in the last year. It’s involved in a range of criminal activities. Smuggling, drugs, debt collection using fists and weapons such as – eh – well, weapons. Colleagues working directly with organised crime know a lot about them, I believe.’

‘Did the Marhoni brothers have anything to do with BBB?’

Brogeland is about to reply, but he stops and looks at Henning. And, again, he knows exactly what Brogeland is thinking.

Henning, you’re probably a decent guy, but I don’t know you well enough yet.

‘This is really good,’ Brogeland says instead. ‘Thank you so much. You’ve been a great help.’

They get up. Brogeland holds out his hand. Another firm handshake. Henning leaves the police station with a feeling that the person he helped the most was probably himself.

Outside in the street, the headline comes to him.
Tariq’s last words
. It will be a great story, he thinks. Tourette Kåre will click. Literally.

He switches on his mobile as he turns into Grønlandsleiret. Thirty seconds later, the text messages flood in. Several people have left messages on his voicemail. Iver Gundersen is one of them. Henning knows why they are calling, obviously, of course he does, but he hasn’t got the energy to respond and he is about to hit the delete button when Gundersen calls again. Henning sighs and replies with a curt ‘hi’.

‘Where are you?’

‘At the police station.’

‘Why haven’t you called us? It’s a huge story and we would have been the first to break it.’

‘I was a bit busy saving my life. What’s left of it.’

‘For God’s sake, I’ve been trying to get hold of you for three and a half hours.’

‘Three and a half hours?’

‘Yes.’

‘You timed it?’

Gundersen takes a deep breath and exhales so hard that it roars in Henning’s ear.

‘It’s totally unacceptable that NRK gets to break the news that a
123news
reporter witnessed a murder and was shot at himself.’

‘Is that Jørn Bendiksen again?’

‘Yes.’

‘His sources must be very good.’

Henning says it in a way which can’t be misinterpreted. He knows that Gundersen will regard it as a personal insult.

‘At the very least, I need an interview with you now, so you can tell me what happened. We have omitted quoting NRK and given our readers the impression that we have spoken to you, but I feel sick to my stomach. An eyewitness report from you would put a lot of things right.’

‘You haven’t faked any quotes, have you?’

‘No, no. You can check for yourself when you get in, or you can read it on your mobile. Do you want to do it in the office, or over the phone?’

‘No.’

‘What do you mean, no?’

‘No, no,’ Henning says, mimicking Gundersen’s voice. ‘There’ll be no interview.’

Total silence.

‘Is this a joke?’

‘No, no.’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘Because a couple of bullets whizzed past my ears roughly three and a half hours ago. I’ve no intention of making it easy for the killer to find me, in case he fancies having another go. He knows that I saw him. Or, if he doesn’t, he soon will.’

Gundersen heaves a sigh.

‘I’m going home now to write up the interview with Tariq. When that’s done, that’s me out of the picture for a couple of days,’ Henning continues. He just manages to complete the last sentence, before Gundersen hangs up on him. Henning gloats.

He is about to stop off at Meny supermarket when his mobile rings again. He doesn’t recognise the number. Perhaps it’s Gundersen pretending to sell subscriptions? He switches off his mobile and dreams of one, maybe two, three or four warm fish cakes.

Yum.

Chapter 28

His supply of batteries is starting to run out, but he has enough to replace the batteries in all eight smoke alarms as he gets home. He goes into his living room. No killers lying in wait for him. He hadn’t really thought so, either, but you never know.

He takes a shower while his computer boots up at a snail’s pace. Fifteen minutes later, he is cleaner than a Johnson’s baby and he loads FireCracker 2.0. He has a question for
6tiermes7.
This time Deep Throat is already logged on:

MakkaPakka: Turbo.

6tiermes7: Negro.
It didn’t take you long to become a target?

MakkaPakka: In that particular respect, I’m not out of practice.

6tiermes7: Still in one piece?

MakkaPakka: Oh, yes. Just as well I don’t need to sleep at night.

6tiermes7: Count sheep. Have a wank.

MakkaPakka: Too much effort.

6tiermes7: :-)

MakkaPakka: I’m thinking of taking a couple of days off, but I’m curious about something.

6tiermes7: Time off? You?

MakkaPakka: Do the Marhoni brothers have anything to do with BBB? Are they members?

6tiermes7: No. We are struggling to find the link.

MakkaPakka: But there is one?

6tiermes7: Don’t you think so?

MakkaPakka: I don’t know. They may just have known each other socially.

6tiermes7: Yeah, right.

MakkaPakka: Will you be carrying out a raid against them soon?

6tiermes7: I don’t know anything about that yet. But I’m guessing they’ll try Yasser Shah’s home first.

MakkaPakka: He has probably gone underground.

6tiermes7: You don’t think he’ll have another go at you?

MakkaPakka: Would you? When all eyes are on him?

6tiermes7: No. Did they offer you protection?

MakkaPakka: Yes.

6tiermes7: Good. But you never know, someone else might want to finish the job.

MakkaPakka: I declined.

6tiermes7: Oh. Did you?

MakkaPakka: Very funny.

6tiermes7: So what happens now?

MakkaPakka: I’m thinking of lying low for a couple of days.

6tiermes7: At least.

MakkaPakka: Okay. I might work from home. I’ll see what happens.

6tiermes7: Okay.

MakkaPakka: Any developments in the investigation?

6tiermes7: A few. They’re hunting high and low for links and clues. Many interviews.

MakkaPakka: Any details you can feed to me?

6tiermes7: Well, they’ve given up on the honour killing theory.

MakkaPakka: Any other excitement?

6tiermes7: Not quite sure. I don’t know if this means anything, but a film company had taken out an option on a screenplay written by Hagerup.

MakkaPakka: How recently?

6tiermes7: A while ago, I think.

MakkaPakka: Student rivalry, perhaps?

6tiermes7: No idea. But they’re talking to all her friends and tutors.

MakkaPakka: Did Hagerup have a tutor?

6tiermes7: Yes. A chap called Yngve Foldvik.

MakkaPakka: That name sounds familiar.

6tiermes7: Means nothing to me.

MakkaPakka: Do you know anything about the tent on Ekeberg Common?

6tiermes7: The college had put it up. They were in the middle of filming.

MakkaPakka: Do you suspect any of her fellow students?

6tiermes7: Not at the moment. I think Mahmoud Marhoni is their prime suspect. They’ve evidence which implicates him.

MakkaPakka: Has he been questioned following the murder of his brother?

6tiermes7: No. His lawyer threw his weight around.

MakkaPakka: Okay. Thank you. See you later.

6tiermes7: Stay healthy.

Stay healthy.

The quote is from the film
Heat
with Robert De Niro and Al Pacino. Jon Voight’s character sits in the car with De Niro, planning a break-in, and as De Niro gets out of the car, Voight tells him to stay healthy.

6tiermes7
likes
Heat
. And Voight is on to something. It’s important to stay healthy. And it’s good to know that someone cares about you, even if Henning doesn’t know who that someone is.

Chapter 29