The Consorts of Death (41 page)

‘Really? You can see yourself how thin your arguments are, Varg. To be frank, I …’

I interrupted him. ‘You couldn’t foresee that Jan Egil with his lack of self-control would end up in such a mess, but you certainly knew how to fan the flames with even greater zeal. You had used Hammersten before, to kill Ansgår Tveiten in 1973, and he must have been your and Svein Skarnes’s well-remunerated henchman since the mid sixties, I would guess, when you hatched up the scheme.’

‘The scheme?’

‘You and Svein Skarnes, one of you desperate never to be poor again, the other desperate to earn quick money. It started with hash. Later it was booze. The only problem you had was that a woman stood between you. Vibecke Størset.’

‘Vibecke was never a problem!’

‘No? Never? What about that February day in 1974 when you paid a call on Svein Skarnes, got into a fight and pushed him down the stairs, breaking his neck? Wasn’t it Vibecke you were
quarrelling
about?’

‘No, it wasn’t! That was about money, too.’

With a half-hearted sense of triumph, qualified by the situation we found ourselves in, I left his last statement hanging in the air between us. I could see how much he would have liked to retract the words. Now they were out, though, he was forced to continue: ‘He also owed me money. Everyone owed me money! It was hell.’

‘Exactly. Because when it came to the crunch, it was you who had started the whole thing. You were alone when you began. Your old university pal, Svein Skarnes, didn’t pop up until later, and he provided a perfect network with Harald Dale as the agent. It was a perfect cover, too. But when things started going awry in Sogn and Fjordane because Ansgår Tveiten had gone to the police, it was you who sent Hammersten in. Perhaps you had Hammersten with you on that February day in 1974, too? I think I can almost visualise it! Hammersten hanging around outside the gate while you drag Skarnes to the window and point: Look who’s outside waiting, Svein. Shall we invite him in perhaps? But you didn’t get your money after all. Because you acted hastily and pushed your old pal down the stairs.’

‘It was an accident, for Christ’s sake! The heat of the moment, just as …’

‘Yes, what was that you were about to say? Just as Vibecke said? Vibeke who had to serve a sentence on your account?’

‘Is it my fault that she chose to take the blame for this?’

‘No, it isn’t. But you know very well why she did it, and you could have given yourself in at any point, if you had had the
backbone
. And she wasn’t the only one unfortunately. The other
scapegoat
is here.’ I vaguely indicated behind me.

His eyes wandered to Jan Egil and back again.

‘But I suspect your guilt regarding Jan Egil is of a much higher order, Hans.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘In fact, he can thank you for becoming the person he is. You were the one who ruined his mother’s life, Mette Olsen.’

He sent me a wan look. ‘Me? Ruined her life! What the hell are you talking about now?’

‘It’s no wonder your sense of guilt was so heavy that you were climbing the wall on the last evening in Førde eleven years ago.’

‘I still don’t understand …’

‘You told me yourself you’d met her in Copenhagen that year. She’d always had a suspicion a rejected suitor had blown the whistle on them. But wasn’t it competition in the hash market that you feared most? Because the telephone call that betrayed them did not come from Copenhagen, but from Bergen in August, 1966. You said yourself you had dabbled with drugs, and the step from dabbling to dealing is not so large. Especially not for someone who was on the lookout for a way to secure his finances.’

His eyes narrowed, and I didn’t like what I read there. I knew that every word I said was sealing my fate. But it was too late to stop now. I had to see the whole thing through. ‘Mette Olsen got off thanks to her solicitors, but her boyfriend David Pettersen killed himself in prison. The year after, Mette Olsen had a child. And the boy who was born, under an extremely unlucky star, was … Jan Egil. From even before he was born you’d shaped his destiny, Hans. Three times he has paid the price for your actions. The first time while in his crucial first years with an unstable mother. The second time when you deprived him of both the new parents he had been given. And the third time when he was blamed for the double murder that you committed. But now it’s over, Hans! He won’t pay any more.’

He fixed me with heavy eyes. ‘And how are you going to prevent that?’ He tossed back his head. ‘You can see the guys there. They obey my every order. They get paid well to do that.’

I looked over at the two armed men who had been standing too far away to catch all of what we had been discussing. ‘Yes, they’re good, I’ll give you that. You put them on my tail from the moment I left your hospice in Eiriks gate. But it wasn’t me you were really after, it was Jan Egil.’

He suddenly raised his head. I did the same. We could both hear it now. Another car was on its way into the area.

We looked at the gate where a white car with a taxi sign on the roof came into view. When the driver spotted us, he jumped on the brakes, causing the tyres to squeal. The two armed men instantly turned in that direction.

Behind me I heard Jan Egil. ‘You bastard! You’re to blame for everythin’. Now I’ll fuckin’ give …’

And then all hell broke loose.

One of the rear doors of the taxi opened.

Hans called out: ‘Guys! Don’t …’

Jan Egil shot first, but the range was too great. He missed. Hans Haavik threw himself to the side and down, and by that time the two men had managed to turn back in our direction. Two
continuous
salvos sounded like a sudden crackle of fire in the darkness.

I heard Jan Egil groan before I could swivel round. He toppled backwards, hit in the chest by one of the shots. Instinctively, I
continued
in the same direction, as if to reach out for him, when I was hit myself, a sledgehammer blow in one shoulder. I was spun round, I slid down the side of the car and landed on the ground with a thump, where I lay on my back staring into the air. I could see stars, but they were in the sky, high above. For a moment I felt nothing, as if my whole body were numb. Then came the pain, it was like a chainsaw cutting through me from my left shoulder down to my heart. The whole thing could not have taken more than a few seconds.

From afar I could hear the sound of a car door being slammed shut and then running footsteps.

‘Careful,’ I heard Hans shout, but the footsteps just continued. They were coming closer. Now they were by me. Light steps, like on cotton. The stars grew, to become suns, but they were no longer in the sky; now they were in my head.

I heard her voice. ‘Varg! Oh my God! This was never meant to happen. I never knew … He tricked me too, from beginning to end!’

I tried to see her through the sun dance, but all I saw was a reflection in her round glasses. ‘Ce-cilie?’

She turned away, her face a white pallor. ‘Ring for an
ambulance
! Do you hear me, Hans? You ring! Now!’

‘What’s going on? What are you doing here?’ I heard the echo of my own voice.

‘It’s all a terrible misunderstanding. I thought Hans was
seriously
worried about you.’

‘But …’

‘It wasn’t until this evening that I realised who I … what sort of person I have … You have to believe me, Varg! I had no idea what he was doing on the side!’

‘Doing … you don’t mean … you and Hans …’

She nodded vigorously. ‘Hans and I have been together since we met again in Oslo. He convinced me that Johnny boy was a danger to you and him, and that was why I … but when I
overheard
the conversation about where he would meet you two …’

‘Overheard …’

‘And overheard him say that on no account must either of you escape alive … I demanded to go with him, but he refused point blank! He just shoved me away, refused to let me come. It was then I realised how completely he had pulled the wool over my eyes … I’ve rung the police, too …’

‘The police?’

‘Yes, it’s over now, Varg. It’s all over …’

I tried to focus on her. But she seemed to float slowly up and away. It was becoming harder to see her. The pain inside me was growing. It filled the whole of my body now. I felt something hot and wet against my cheek. At first I thought it was blood. Later I realised it was tears. But they were hers, not mine.

‘How’s Jan Egil?’ I mumbled, but she didn’t answer.

Now I could hear the sirens, a long way off. But they had nothing to do with me. I was beginning to sink, slowly, calmly, as if I was lying and floating on an upward airstream. I was being lowered into a vast, dark void. I rolled over and lay face down. The pain was receding, and everything felt nice and cosy. Far below I saw the circular light, glittering silver water, which I was on my way towards in the first, and only, perfect swallow dive of my life.

GUNNAR STAALESEN
was born in Bergen, Norway in 1947. He made his debut at the early age of twenty-two with
Seasons of Innocence
. In 1977 he published the first book in the Varg Veum series. They are immensely popular and have been translated into twelve languages including French, German, Dutch, Italian and Russian. Gunnar Staalesen has twice won Norway’s top crime prize, the Golden Pistol.

DON BARTLETT
lives with his family in a village in Norfolk. He translates from Scandinavian literature and has recently translated, or co-translated, novels by Ingvar Ambjørnsen, Lars Saabye Christensen, K.O. Dahl, Roy Jacobsen and Jo Nesbø.