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
“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
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