MIKAEL BELLMAN STOOD INSIDE THE ENTRANCE DOOR OF Oslo District Prison watching Sigurd Altman and a prison officer sauntering towards the counter.
‘Checking out?’ the officer behind the counter asked.
‘Yes,’ said Altman, handing over a form.
‘Anything from the minibar?’
The second officer chuckled at what was undoubtedly a stock-in-trade at releases.
Personal effects were unlocked from a cupboard and returned with a broad smile. ‘Hope your stay met expectations, herr Altman, and that we see you again soon.’
Bellman held the door open for Altman. They walked down the stairs together.
‘The press are outside,’ Bellman said. ‘So let’s go through the culvert. Krohn’s waiting for you in a car at the rear of Police HQ.’
‘Master of bluffs,’ Altman said with a barbed smile.
Bellman didn’t ask which he was alluding to. He had other questions. The final ones. And three hundred metres within which to have them answered. The lock buzzed, and he pushed open the door to the culvert. ‘Now the deal is done I thought you might be able to tell me a couple of things.’
‘Shoot, Bellman.’
‘Like why you didn’t correct Harry as soon as you realised he was going to arrest you?’
Altman shrugged. ‘I considered the misunderstanding a priceless treat. I understood entirely, of course. What was not understandable was that the arrest would take place in Ytre Enebakk. Why there? And when there’s something you don’t understand, it’s best to keep your trap shut. So I did, until the blinding light, until I saw the whole picture.’
‘And what did the whole picture tell you?’
‘That I was in a see-saw situation.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I knew about the conflict between Kripos and Crime Squad. And I saw it gave me an option. Being in a see-saw situation means that you’re in a position to apply weight to one side or the other.’
‘But why didn’t you try the same deal with Harry that you did with me?’
‘In a see-saw situation you always turn to the losing party. That’s the party which is more desperate, more willing to pay for what you have to offer. It’s a simple gambling theory.’
‘Why were you so sure that Harry wasn’t on the losing side?’
‘I wasn’t sure, but there was another factor. I had begun to get to know Harry. He’s not like you, Bellman, a man of compromises. He couldn’t care less about personal prestige, he only wants to catch the bad boys. All the bad boys. He would have seen things in the following way: if Tony was the main actor, I was the director. And therefore I should not get off lightly. I reckoned that a career man like you would see things differently. And Johan Krohn agreed with me. You would see the personal gain in being the person who caught the murderer. You knew that people were keen to know who did it, who physically performed the killing, not who did the thinking. If a film flops, it’s great for a director to have Tom Cruise in the main role because he’s the one people will slaughter. Audiences and the press like to have things simple, and my crime is indirect, complicated. A court of law would undoubtedly have handed down a life sentence, but this case isn’t about courts of law, but about politics. If the press and the people are happy, the Ministry of Justice is happy, so everyone can go home more or less happy. Getting away with a slap on the wrist, maybe a suspended sentence, is a cheap price to pay.’
‘Not for everyone,’ Bellman said.
Altman laughed. The echo drowned his footsteps. ‘Take some advice from someone who knows. Let it go. Don’t let it eat you up. Injustice is like the weather. If you can’t live with it, move. Injustice is not part of the system’s machinery. It is the machinery.’
‘I’m not talking about me, Altman. I can live with it.’
‘And I’m not talking about you, either, Bellman. I’m talking about the person who can’t live with it.’
Bellman nodded. For his part, he certainly could live with the situation. There had been telephone calls from the Ministry. Not from the minister himself, of course, but the feedback could be interpreted in only one way. That they were happy. That this would have positive consequences, both for Kripos and for him personally.
They went up the stairs and into the daylight.
Johan Krohn stepped out of his blue Audi and extended a hand to Sigurd Altman as they crossed the road.
Bellman stood watching the released man and his counsel until the Audi disappeared round the bend to Tøyen.
‘Don’t you say hi when you come to see us, Bellman?’
Bellman turned. It was Gunnar Hagen. He was on the pavement across the road, no jacket, arms folded.
Bellman went over, and they shook hands.
‘Anyone spreading gossip about me?’ Bellman asked.
‘Here at Crime Squad everything is brought to light,’ Hagen said with a broad smile, shivering and rubbing his hands for warmth. ‘By the way, I have a meeting with the Ministry of Justice at the back end of next month.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Bellman said, unconcerned. He knew very well what the meeting would be about. Restructuring. Downsizing. Transfer of responsibility for murder cases. What he didn’t know was what Hagen meant with his allusion to everything coming to light.
‘But you know all about the meeting, don’t you.’ Hagen said. ‘We’ve both been requested to forward a recommendation for the future organisation of murder investigations. The deadline’s approaching.’
‘I hardly think they’ll lay much weight on our one-sided presentations,’ Bellman said, looking at Hagen and trying to interpret where he was going. ‘I suppose we just have to give our opinions, in the name of tolerance.’
‘Unless we both believe that the present structure is preferable to all the investigations being placed under one roof,’ Hagen said through chattering teeth.
Bellman chortled. ‘You’re not wearing enough clothes, Hagen.’
‘You could be right. But I also know what I would think about a new murder unit being led by a policeman who had used his position to let his future wife go free after she had been smuggling drugs. Even though witnesses had pointed her out.’
Bellman stopped breathing. Felt his grip slacken. Felt gravity taking hold of him, his hair rising, his stomach falling. This was the nightmare he had been having. Nerve-jangling in sleep, brutal in reality; the fall without any rope. The solo climber’s fall.
‘Looks like you’re feeling the cold, too, Bellman.’
‘Fuck you, Hagen.’
‘Me?’
‘What do you want?’
‘Want? Long term, I want the force to be spared yet another public scandal calling into doubt the integrity of the regular policeman. As far as restructuring is concerned …’ Hagen’s head receded between his shoulders and he stamped his feet on the ground. ‘Now, the Ministry of Justice might want murder investigation resources all in the same pot, quite irrespective of the leadership question. If I were to be asked to lead such a unit I would, of course, consider the offer. But, in general, I think things are functioning well as they are. By and large, murderers receive their punishment, don’t they. So if my counterpart in this matter shares that view, I will be prepared to continue with investigations both in Bryn and here at Police HQ. What do you think, Bellman?’
Mikael Bellman felt the jerk as the rope caught him after all. Felt the harness tighten, felt himself being torn into two, felt his back unable to cope with the strain and it broke, the mixture of pain and paralysis. He dangled, helpless and dizzy, somewhere between heaven and earth. But he was alive.
‘Let me think about it, Hagen.’
‘Think away. But don’t take too much time. Deadline, you know. We have to coordinate.’
Bellman stood watching Hagen’s back as he loped to the entrance of Police HQ. Then turned and stared over the rooftops of Grønland. Studied the town. His town.