Roar Bohr started to walk towards the Land Rover.
“No! No!” his soldier screamed. “You’re not a murderer, Bohr!”
Bohr got in, started the engine and began to drive. He didn’t notice any resistance when the chain jerked the sergeant to his feet and he started to run after the vehicle.
Bohr slowed down. He speeded up again whenever the chain started to slacken. He watched the sergeant as he ran along in a sort of stumbling jog with his hands held out as if in prayer.
Forty degrees. Even at walking pace the sergeant would soon dehydrate. He wouldn’t be able to stay on his feet, he’d collapse. A farmer with a horse and cart was driving towards them on the road. As he passed them the sergeant cried out to him, begging for help, but the farmer merely bowed his turbaned head and looked down at the reins. Foreigners. Taliban. Their war wasn’t his—his war was against drought, against starvation, against the never-ending demands and torments of daily life.
Bohr leaned forward and looked at the sky.
The monk vulture was following them.
No one’s prayers were granted. No one’s.
—
“Sure you don’t want me to wait?” Bjørn asked.
“Get home, they’ll be waiting,” Harry said, peering out of the car window at Kaja’s house. The lights in the living room were on.
Harry got out and lit the cigarette he hadn’t been allowed to smoke in the car.
“New rules with kids,” Bjørn had explained. “Katrine doesn’t want any trace of smoke anywhere.”
“Mm. They sort of seize power the moment they become mothers, don’t they?”
Bjørn had shrugged. “I don’t know about seizing it. Katrine pretty much had it already.”
Harry took four deep drags. Then he pinched the cigarette out and put it back in the packet. The gate creaked when he opened it. Water dripped from the iron, it had been raining here too.
He walked up to the door and rang the bell. Waited.
After ten seconds of silence he tried the handle. Unlocked, like last time. With a feeling of déjà vu he went inside, past the open door to the kitchen. He saw a phone charging on the kitchen worktop. That explained why she hadn’t answered his calls. Maybe. He opened the door to the living room.
Empty.
He was about to call Kaja’s name when his brain registered a sound behind him, the creak of a floorboard. In the space of a nanosecond, his brain had reasoned out that it was obviously Kaja coming downstairs or out of the toilet, so it didn’t sound the alarm.
Not until an arm was squeezing his throat and a cloth was pressed against his mouth and nose. As his brain registered the danger it sent an automatic command to take a deep breath before the cloth completely blocked the supply of air. And by the time his slower cognitive process told him that was precisely the point of the cloth, it was too late.
30
Harry looked around. He was in a ballroom. An orchestra was playing, a slow waltz. He caught sight of her. She was sitting at a white-clothed table under one of the crystal chandeliers. The two men in dinner jackets standing on either side of her were trying to get her attention. But her eyes were focused on him, on Harry. They were telling him to hurry up. She was wearing the black dress, the one of several black dresses that she calledtheblack dress. And when Harry looked down at himself he saw that he was wearing the black suit, his only one, the one he wore for christenings, weddings and funerals. He put one foot in front of the other and made his way through the tables, but it went slowly, as if the room were filled with water. There must be a lot of swell on the surface, because he pulled forward, then back, and the S-shaped chandeliers were swinging in time to the waltz. Just as he got there, just as he was about to say something and let go of the table, his feet lifted from the floor and he began to rise up. She stretched out her hand towards his, but he was already out of reach, and even if she stood up from her chair and stretched towards him, she remained where she was as he rose higher and higher. And then he discovered that the water was starting to turn red, so red that she receded from view, red and warm, and the pressure in his head began to rise. He didn’t realise at first that he couldn’t breathe, of course he couldn’t, and he began to flail about, he had to get to the surface.
“Good evening, Harry.”
Harry opened his eyes. The light cut like a knife and he closed them again.
“Trichloromethane. Better known as chloroform. A bit old-school, of course, but effective. We used it in E14 whenever someone needed kidnapping.”
Harry opened his eyes a crack. A lamp was shining directly into his face.
“You probably have a lot of questions.” The voice was coming from the darkness behind the lamp. “Like ‘What happened?’ and ‘Where am I?’ and ‘Who is he?’ ”
They had only exchanged a few words at the funeral, but Harry still recognised the voice and the hint of rolled “r”s. “But let me answer the question you’re wondering about most, Harry: ‘What does he want with me?’ ”
“Bohr,” Harry said hoarsely. “Where’s Kaja?”
