So we looked at each other and waited. Then Johan Fredriksen got up, went over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a glass of wine. He raised the bottle, looking at me questioningly, then nodded with understanding when I said that I could not drink on the job.
‘Many gifted young men have bemoaned the fact that they are not the only and eldest son of a rich father. For me it was the opposite. I often thought when I was growing up that it would have been nice to have a brother, who could blaze the trail and relieve some of the pressure and expectation. But I had no older brother, only two younger sisters. My father was kind enough never to complain. But I could tell that he was disappointed, and I heard others say the same. They said that I was doing fine, but that they had expected more of Per Johan Fredriksen’s only son. I have always been good, but never great. My sporting achievements were good, my results were good, but I was never the best at anything. I lacked the charisma of which my father had so much. My greatest triumph in life is that I was the fifth best in my year to graduate from law school. The examiner said, “You are not the brightest one here, but you are the one who works hardest to be so.” I took that as a compliment and hoped that it heralded my breakthrough.’
He paused briefly and finished his wine. I was glad that he was opening up, and allowed him the time to pour another glass before I said: ‘But it was not?’
He grimly shook his head.
‘No, it was not. Father congratulated me and smiled, but I could see that coming fifth, which was such an achievement for me, meant nothing to him. He still didn’t want to involve me in running the business, and wouldn’t give me an advance on my inheritance so I could start my own practice. “You are not robust enough yet to stand on your own two feet as a businessman,” he had said to me with this kind but patronizing smile. Apparently I had to get more work experience and preferably also a sensible and helpful wife. So once again, I did what he told me, got a boring job as an associate, while I waited for better times.’
‘And now you finally have your chance – because of a tragedy,’ I said.
He nodded, but did not smile. ‘Not just a tragedy, but a double tragedy. I inherited around twenty million when my father was killed on Saturday, and another ten million yesterday when my little sister died. Suddenly, I have all the opportunities I ever wanted, but this is certainly not how I had wished for it to happen. My little sister was killed, wasn’t she? She attempted suicide once a few years ago, but I’m sure that’s not what happened this time.’
I confirmed that it did look like his sister had been murdered. In addition, we now also had to keep all possibilities open regarding his father’s killer, as a new witness had thrown doubt on whether the boy on the red bicycle had done it.
Johan Fredriksen took this news with unexpected composure. He put his wine glass down and looked at me with a serious, though not unfriendly, expression on his face.
‘Then I have a problem, which I am afraid may cause a problem for you too. I was here at home on both Saturday evening and yesterday afternoon, but have no one to confirm that.’
‘So you are saying that you were at home alone?’ I asked.
He took another sip of wine, then shook his head.
‘No. What I am saying – and it is the truth – is that I was here with my girlfriend. But I cannot ask her to confirm that for me. She has made it quite clear that she, for very personal reasons, does not want her name to be public or to be pulled into the investigation in any way. She is the most exciting thing that has happened to me in all my life. I am even more scared of losing her now, having just lost two of my closest family members. I simply cannot burden her with that. So in a situation where I know that I am innocent and did not murder my father and little sister, I choose to respect my girlfriend’s wish to remain anonymous, even though I realize that it may not make life any easier for me.’
I could not work Johan Fredriksen out, nor could I decide what I thought of him. On the one hand, I could understand him, even empathize with him, but on the other, it did create a problem for the investigation.
I tried to push him by saying that his mother claimed she had phoned him several times yesterday afternoon without getting an answer. He nodded sharply.
‘Yes, I can confirm that, without being able to give you the precise times. I heard the telephone ring out here in the sitting room at least twice. I had a strong suspicion that it was my mother, and indeed, when I then answered the phone at around half past five, I had this confirmed. When she had called earlier, I was in a room with another person, in the middle of things I did not want to interrupt, so I couldn’t talk to my mother on the phone.’
He said this somewhat defiantly, and then raised his glass before draining it.
I was still unsure as to how I felt about Johan Fredriksen, but realized that it would be impossible to get anything more out of him now. So I asked him to think hard about the situation. He promised to do that, but said that it was unlikely that anything would change with regards to his alibi and his girlfriend’s identity. He added that she had been here with him when both the murders happened, and clearly had no connection to the case. She had never met either his parents or his sisters.
I was increasingly intrigued by Johan Fredriksen’s mysterious girlfriend. However, it was perfectly clear that she had no links to the case. And it was not obvious who that young woman might be. I had more than enough parties to juggle with as it was. And what was more, I did not think that Johan Fredriksen would make up a story like that if he had killed his father or sister. His story tallied with what his mother had said and indirectly gave him a kind of alibi. So I dropped it – and left with slightly more respect for Johan Fredriksen than I had arrived with.
XIV
It was after I had got into the car just by Sognsvann at a quarter past seven that I saw him for the fourth time.
The man in the hat was not wearing a hat today, nor was he following me. He was just standing there, casually leaning against a wall on the corner of the street. I started the car.
The encounter lasted no more than a few seconds and felt far less threatening than our previous meetings. I was sitting in a car with a loaded gun in its holster under my jacket. It also helped that I now knew who the man in the hat was, even though I therefore also knew that he was dangerous.
However, seeing him again was an uncomfortable reminder that I was being watched, and that we were still no further forward on the spying aspect of the case.
I drove to Patricia’s house and round the block one more time to make sure that no one was following me before I stopped and parked the car a few hundred yards from the house, at twenty past seven. I kept my eyes peeled as I walked from the car to the front door. The man in the hat was nowhere to be seen. And yet still I had the feeling that I had not seen him for the last time.
XV
‘Hmm,’ Patricia said. She had finished her tomato soup and roast pork with sweet potatoes, but still listened carefully to my account of the day’s developments.
I had carried a small dilemma with me as I entered the house that day, but had resolved it by deciding to speak openly about my meeting with the head of the police security service and the suspicions that Per Johan Fredriksen may have been a spy.
I was fully aware that this formally constituted a breach of confidentiality, which could cost me my job if it was ever discovered. What surprised me was that I did not have any particular misgivings about it. I was absolutely certain that Patricia would never tell anyone. And given that, I saw it more or less as my duty to do all that I could to clear up a matter of such national importance. Furthermore, the case had become something of an obsession and the pressure was such that I was willing to go to pretty much whatever lengths necessary to solve it.