‘Bloody hell,’ Johanne mumbled. ‘What theories do you have?’
‘Plenty.’
The noise from the kitchen had increased in volume. Whisks and ladles crashed down on metal worktops, and they could clearly hear the dishwasher. Johanne looked at her watch.
‘I think we ought to make a move,’ she said, hesitating briefly before she added: ‘Do you still enjoy walking, Karen?’
‘Me? I walk all the time!’
Johanne asked for the bill. It had been ready for a long time, and Karen grabbed it before Johanne had even realized the waiter was there.
‘My treat.’
Johanne didn’t have the energy to argue.
‘Shall we walk back to my place and have a nightcap?’ she asked as Karen got out her credit card. ‘It’s only about twenty minutes from here. Maybe a bit more in this weather.’
‘Fantastic,’ said Karen delightedly. She showered the waiter with compliments, picked up her coat and headed for the door.
‘Oslo is a really quiet city,’ she said in surprise when they got outside.
The traffic lights at the junction between Hans Nielsen Hauges Vei and Sandakerveien changed from amber to red with not a car in sight. The dirt and fumes from the day’s traffic were concealed beneath a thin layer of fresh snow. There was hardly a footprint to be seen on the pavement. The clouds hung low over the city, and towards the southwest a pale yellow glow shone from the street lamps in the centre.
‘This is mainly a residential area,’ said Johanne. ‘And in any case people don’t go out much at night after Christmas. Norwegians party themselves to a standstill in December. January is the month of good intentions.’
They passed the video shop on the corner and set off along Sandakerveien.
‘Where were we?’ said Karen.
‘Your theories,’ Johanne reminded her. ‘About those six murders.’
‘Ah yes.’
Karen knotted her scarf more tightly as they walked. Johanne had forgotten how tall and long-legged her friend was; she had to hurry to keep up with Karen.
‘As far as the anti-gay movement goes, we’ve seen some strange new alliances. Jews and Christians, Muslims and even extreme right-wing groups haven’t been able to live in peace for hundreds and hundreds of years, but now they’ve found a common enemy: the gay community. We’ve just registered a group who call themselves “The 25’ers”. The curious thing about them is that they work very quietly.’
‘Quietly? Isn’t the whole point of groups like that to make as much noise as possible?’
‘As a rule. But these people are different. We think they originate from more traditional fundamentalist environments on both the Muslim and the Christian side. It’s as if they think everything is moving too slowly. That it’s time to do something radical. It’s the same people as before, but in a different combination, so to speak. They have the same goals, but are planning to use completely different methods to achieve them.’
They walked on for a while in silence. The conversation had taken an unpleasant turn, and Johanne wasn’t sure she wanted to follow it to its conclusion.
‘What methods?’ she asked anyway as they reached the point where Sandakerveien levels out and curves towards the north-west.
Karen stopped so abruptly that Johanne had gone a couple of metres before she realized.
‘Oslo isn’t exactly a beautiful city,’ said Karen, looking around.
Johanne smiled.
‘I think the point where we’re standing right now is the ugliest, most depressing place in the entire city,’ she said. ‘Not that I think our city is particularly beautiful, but don’t judge it by what you see here.’
On the right-hand side lay several box-shaped warehouses, trying to hide beneath the snow as if out of sheer embarrassment. In front of them – where Nycoveien takes a couple of hundred metres to reach a desolate roundabout – half the wall of Storosentret had been torn down because the complex was being extended. The vast, patched-up shopping centre looked more like a ruin than a building site. From the roof a gigantic red O flashed in the darkness, an inflamed Cyclops eye. Between the two streets an office block with vertical turquoise stripes cast garish reflections on the snow. On the left-hand side stood a handful of yellow brick buildings at an angle. For some reason the architect had thought it a good idea to put all the pipes on the outside; it looked like the backdrop to a cheap sci-fi film.
‘It’ll be better when we get up to Nydalen,’ said Johanne. ‘Come on.’
They set off again, trudging along in the middle of the road.
‘So far we don’t know nearly enough about The 25’ers,’ said Karen as they picked up speed. ‘But we have reason to believe that an unholy alliance – to put it mildly – has been formed between fundamentalist Muslims and fundamentalist Christians. We have a theory that the name comes from the digit sum of the numbers 19, 24 and 27, the first number relating to the Koran and the other two referring to the Bible – St Paul’s Epistle to the Romans. All very complicated. Of course we’re not talking about some kind of church community here. Nor a political group.’
‘So what are they?’
‘A militant group. A paramilitary force. We think we’ve identified at least three of the members: two ultra-conservative Christians and one Muslim. All three have a military background. One was actually a Navy Seal. The problem is they know that we know who they are, and they’ve gone quiet. All they’re doing at the moment is behaving perfectly normally. Unfortunately, we have reason to believe the group is quite large. Large and extremely well run. The FBI are banging their heads against a brick wall, and there’s not much the APLC can do under the circumstances. But we’re trying, of course. We’re trying as hard as we can.’
‘But what is it these people actually do?’
‘They murder homosexuals and lesbians,’ said Karen. ‘The 25’ers is an organization for the discontented. Those who want action, not words.’
She paused as they moved to the side of the road to avoid an oncoming car.
‘Fortunately, we make do with shouting at each other in Norway, thank God,’ said Johanne.
Karen gave a wry smile as she stopped at the next roundabout. ‘That’s how it starts. That’s exactly how it starts.’
There were no cars in sight, and they crossed the road.
‘Is the anti-gay movement in Norway mainly religious?’ asked Karen.
‘To a certain extent. I’d say the element that can be defined as a movement is characterized by the Christian conservatives. Some individuals are trying to construct a more morally philosophical platform for their homophobic arguments. But when you examine their reasoning, you discover they all have a deep faith in God as their starting point.’ She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. ‘And then there’s the constant whining from the caravans.’
‘Caravans?’
‘It’s just an expression. I mean the masses. Not particularly Christian and most definitely not philosophical. They just don’t like gays.’
They had reached the Congress Centre, and Karen stopped in front of one of G-sports windows. It obviously wasn’t the January sales display of ski equipment she was interested in, because she was looking at the reflection of Johanne’s face in the glass.