“Don’t worry about that, Harry.”
Harry could tell from the acoustics that he was seated in a large room. Probably wooden walls. Not a basement, then. But it was cold and raw, as if it wasn’t in use. The smell was neutral, like in a meeting hall or open-plan office. That could make sense. His arms were taped to the armrests of the chair and his feet to the wheeled base of an office chair. No smell of paint or building work, but he saw the light reflect off transparent plastic that had been laid on the parquet floor beneath and in front of the chair.
“Have you killed Kaja as well, Bohr?”
“As well?”
“Like Rakel. And the other girls you’ve got pictures of in your cabin.”
Harry heard the other man’s footsteps behind the lamp.
“I have a confession to make, Harry. I have killed. I didn’t think I could do it, but it turned out I was wrong.” The steps stopped. “And they say that once you’ve started…”
Harry leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. One of the panels had been removed, and a load of severed cables were sticking out. IT stuff, presumably.
“I heard a rumour that one of my guys in Special Forces, Waage, knew something about the murder of my interpreter, Hala. And when I checked and found out what he knew, I realised I was going to have to kill him.”
Harry coughed. “He was on your trail. So you killed him. And now you’re planning to kill me. I have no interest in being your confessor, Bohr, so just get on with the execution.”
“You misunderstand me, Harry.”
“When everyone misunderstands you, Bohr, it’s time to ask yourself if you’re mad. Get on with it, you poor bastard, I’m done.”
“You’re in a hell of a hurry.”
“Maybe it’s better there than here. Might be more pleasant company too.”
“You misunderstand me, Harry. Let me explain.”
“No!” Harry tugged at the chair, but the tape held him down.
“Listen. Please. I didn’t kill Rakel.”
“Iknowyou killed Rakel, Bohr. I don’t want to hear about it, and I don’t want to hear any pathetic excuses—”
Harry stopped when Roar Bohr’s face suddenly came into view, lit up from below, like in a horror film. It took Harry a moment to realise that the light was coming from a phone on the table between them, and that it had just started to ring.
Bohr looked at it. “Your phone, Harry. It’s Kaja Solness.”
Bohr touched the screen, picked the phone up and held it to Harry’s ear.
“Harry?” It was Kaja’s voice.
Harry cleared his throat. “Where…where are you?”
“I just got in. I saw you’d called, but I needed to eat so I went to the new restaurant around the corner and left my phone charging at home. Tell me, have you been here?”
“Here?”
“My computer has been moved from the desk to the living-room table. Tell me it was you, or I’ll start to worry.”
Harry stared into the lamplight.
“Harry? Where are you? You sound so—”
“It was me,” Harry said. “Nothing to worry about. Listen, I’m in the middle of something right now. I’ll call you later, OK?”
“OK,” she said, sounding doubtful.
