Sohlberg and the Gift (8 page)

“Neither was Janne Eide’s husband. He was just a gold-digging loafer from what I remember. Oh yes. Trust me. I overheard
plenty
from Nygård and then Thorsen talking with Ellingsen. . . . Also . . . you don’t know this . . . but Ellingsen was too lazy . . . and too much of a technobumpkin to read or write his own e-mails . . . so he had me print out and write all e-mails from and to Myklebust.”

“Fru Sivertsen . . . all that you say makes sense. . . . There’s no way that the Janne Eide murder would deserve a prosecutor from the Director General of Public Prosecutions.”

“Exactly my Solly boy. The boys and girls from the Director General only prosecute major crimes against the state itself . . . not crimes against individuals. . . . And they only prosecute crimes against the state that have the potential for long prison sentences of up to twenty-one years . . . crimes that threaten the security of the country. They do stuff like prosecuting government employees who break secrecy laws.”

“And yet . . . Fru Sivertsen . . . I was thinking. . . .”

 “Yes?”

“Even if an ambitious and scheming prosecutor like Kasper Berge wanted to get placed in the Janne Eide case he would still need someone high up in the Ministry of Justice to go along with his scheme to get assigned to the Eide prosecution.”

“Of course. It goes without saying.”

Sohlberg pondered three scenarios—all equally disturbing.

Scenario Number One: someone very corrupt at a very high level inside the Ministry of Justice assigned Kasper Berge to the Janne Eide case to please her father and curry favor with the Eide business empire. Or someone got bribed and paid by the father or someone in the Eide business empire to assign Kasper Berge to the case.

Scenario Number Two: Old Man Eide or someone in his business empire secretly worked for the government or secretly helped the government in some major project. After all shipping companies sometimes have to transport
sensitive
cargo prone to cause controversy or investigations or scandal.

Scenario Number Three: the murderer or the person ultimately responsible for the murder worked for the government or was somehow involved in the government at a high enough level or in an important enough project.

None of the three scenarios appealed to Sohlberg. “The Eide case smells bad. There’s a stench from the Justice Ministry’s bench.”

“Oh my Solly boy . . . you’re far too cynical for someone who’s early into his career.”

“I see things as they are. My eyes are open. So are my nose and ears.”

“Then you must be careful my boy. Make sure no one else knows of your cynicism. Keep your mouth shut like the rest of us worker bees. . . . Speak of this to no one. Or you’ll pay and pay.”

 Sohlberg pondered over her ominous warning. He then went over his options as to how best to proceed. None were particularly attractive. His options ranged from difficult to dangerous and maybe even worse.

“My Solly boy. Time for me to go. You need time to think. Call me if you have any more questions. Now . . . you asked me who could help you get the Eide case files. So here’s your Christmas gift . . . a list with the names of reliable and discreet people who will help you. Their personal phone numbers are written backwards. I already called them. Told them you and I needed their help.”

“Thank you.”

“Now keep in mind . . . these folks are nobodies like me. They didn’t go to fancy schools and they’re not high in the bureaucratic food chain. But like me they know exactly how to get things done . . . what levers to pull and buttons to push. If they can’t help you they will get someone who can and will.”

“Excellent. I really appreciate your help.”

“Also . . . you told me you were going to look at the court files on the Eide murder. So I put in the name of a person who works at the National Courts Administration. I put him in because who knows what problems you might get into if anyone finds out that you’re looking at the Eide case file from the trial court.”

“Fru Sivertsen . . . you’re so good to me.”

“Nonsense. We’re just kindred spirits. Rowing on the same boat and all that. I just have one favor to ask of you.”

“Yes. What?”

“Keep your contact with these people to a minimum. Only ask them for help if absolutely necessary.”

“Of course.”

“And never use a phone or computer that can be traced back to you or them.”

“I only use disposable cell phones. I’ve got a bag of totally untraceable disposable cell phones that I bought two years ago from a Swedish contact. After one call I throw the phone away but not before I take out and destroy the phone’s SIM card . . . the good old Subscriber Identification Module card.”

“I’m impressed,” said the hard-to-impress Fru Sivertsen.

“I then pass a special magnet that I got in Russia over all the other electronic hardware and software. That means that everything gets wiped off the phone . . . including any known and unknown tracking software.”

“I knew I could depend on you. Well . . . my Solly boy . . . be careful . . . very careful . . . and Merry Christmas!”

They hugged goodbye and for the longest time after Fru Sivertsen left he was oppressed by the same feeling that he used to have when he first learned to sail his father’s boat. He felt that a powerful undercurrent was carrying him out to open sea far away from the safe shores.

 Sohlberg paid and left the restaurant. Standing at the doorway of the Cafekontoret he reached for his coat pocket and realized that he needed a new bag of throat lozenges. Grumbling he crossed the street to the small supermarket from the
JOKER
chain. He entered the red corner building on the corner of Grønlandsleiret and Schweigaards gate.

“Welcome!” said the friendly Pakistani clerk at the checkout stand.

“Ricola lozenges?”

“Row Four. To your right. In the middle.”

Just as Sohlberg walked down the aisle he noticed a man hovering over the limp carrots and other dried-out vegetables. The man had a familiar face but Sohlberg could not attach a name to it.

Where did I see this thick-set man with the surly face?

Definitely at the Zoo. Yes. I saw him at the Zoo. More than once.

Could the man be following me?

How could I have landed under this man’s surveillance so soon?

Is the man connected to the Eide case?

Chapter 4/Fire

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, OR

THREE DAYS AFTER THE DAY

All morning long Sohlberg tried to recall the other statement that his Tuesday morning visitor had made to him and yet it repeatedly slipped his mind whenever he tried to remember it. He tried and tried but kept forgetting the statement which was very important. But he did not know why it was significant. The evanescent statement escaped his mind’s grasp as easily as a slippery eel.

At 11:15 A.M Sohlberg got ready to leave the Zoo for his lunch-time meeting. He walked past a row of Vietnamese hoodlums in handcuffs. Arrogant and defiant the 20- and 30-somethings sat on a bench waiting for interrogation. Rolf Myhre the youngest homicide inspector in the Zoo looked at Sohlberg and then rolled his eyes as if telling Sohlberg:

“Look at what I have to put up with.”

Sohlberg nodded and smiled in commiseration.

The west-bound Number 18 tram line whisked Sohlberg closer to downtown. He again had the feeling he was being followed. Sohlberg got off at the Tinghuset or Courthouse station and promptly headed to Hansen & Dysvik where he had bought Christmas gifts for Fru Sohlberg over the years. A long line of customers snaked in front of the Customer Service desk of the elegant home furnishings store. After waiting for 15 minutes Sohlberg finally got to the front. He lifted the enormous H&D shopping bag over the counter.

“Hei. I need to return two candle holders I bought here yesterday.”

The young woman ignored him. She stared at her perfectly manicured nails. She looked right past him. He waited and made noises with the shopping bag and yet she paid him no attention.

Sohlberg moved closer to her and said:

“Excuse me . . . I need to return two candle holders I bought here yesterday.”

“Oh! . . . Hello!” she said as if he had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. “What did you say?”

“I need to return two candle holders I bought here yesterday.”

“Sorry they didn’t turn out right for you,” said the lovely young woman whose attractiveness was enhanced by the charming manner in which she bit her lower lip at the end of each sentence. “Would you like a refund or do you want to exchange them?”

“Exchange please. I need the ones that are two inches taller.”

A telephone call to the right department produced the desired set of candle holders.

“These new ones are more expensive,” she said before biting her lower lip. “Twenty percent more. Is that all right?”

“Yes.”

Sohlberg paid the balance for the new set of candle holders.

“Can you please hold them until I come back from my lunch appointment?”

“Yes,” she cooed enthusiastically as she stared right past Sohlberg at her next client who just happened to be a handsome young man who could have walked straight out of photo shoot for Armani or Ralph Lauren Polo or some other impossibly expensive brand hawked by impossibly good-looking people.

“Thank you,” said Sohlberg who was greatly satisfied that he was an invisible nonentity to her and everyone else around him. He was the cellophane man. That’s the way he wanted it. That’s the one-man show that he worked hard to produce every day. To be seen and yet not seen. To be seen as a non-threatening nonentity who can earn the suspect’s trust. That’s how Sohlberg got close to his suspects and deep inside their minds. That’s how he got them talking. Arguing. Sharing. Bragging. Explaining. Dismissing. Confessing.

The cloudless day threw a harsh Arctic sunlight on the people and buildings on the street. The majority of pedestrians frowned at the intense sub-zero cold. But Sohlberg was beaming. His return expedition to Hansen & Dysvik and the candle holder re-purchase served three purposes in the most discrete and effective manner.

First: the return trip and the re-purchase gave him a legitimate and credible excuse to be back in the area.

Second: the return trip and the repurchase allowed him to carefully and discretely check if he was being followed.

Third: the H&D shopping bag and credit card receipts enhanced the credibility of his cover story if he ever needed to use the story especially if he needed the story when he returned to the Zoo later that afternoon with the shopping bag.

 Sohlberg walked along Apotekergata. The street swarmed with human bears and seals and walruses bundled in enormous coats and hats and gloves and mufflers to ward off the sub-zero weather. Sohlberg blended perfectly into the crowd.

He was everyman and forgettable. Within seconds of seeing him no one would remember him: a see-through nobody.

Faceless.

He was the ultimate nonentity of a boring and timid low-level bureaucrat. He wore unassuming clothes of faded or fraying or stained polyester blends and other fabrics and accessories befitting the discount store patron.