He was riding a mechanical bull. It flung his body this way and that while he held on tightly and tried to order a drink. He tried to focus on the barman behind the counter, but the jerks were too sharp, and the facial features in front of him blurred.
‘What is it you’d like, Harry?’ It was Rakel’s voice. ‘Tell me what you want.’
Was it really her? I want the bull to stop. I want you and me to be together. Harry tried to shout it, but he couldn’t make a sound. He pressed the buttons on the back of the bull’s neck, but the tossing and rotations only grew in intensity and speed.
He heard a sound like a knife cutting through meat and she screamed.
The bull began moving more slowly. Until it stopped completely.
He couldn’t see anyone behind the bar, but blood was running down over the mirror shelves, the bottles and the glasses. He felt something hard being pressed against his temple.
‘I can tell you’re in debt,’ a voice whispered right behind him. ‘Yes, you owe me a life.’
He looked up at the mirror. In the cone of light coming from above he saw his own head, the barrel of a pistol and a hand holding a finger on the trigger. The face of the man holding the gun lay in darkness, but he could see something white shimmer. Was he naked? No, it was a white collar.
‘Wait!’ Harry said and turned round. It wasn’t the man in the lift. Or the man behind the tinted glass of the Camaro. It was Bjørn Holm. His red-haired colleague pressed the pistol to his own temple and pulled the trigger.
‘No!’
Harry discovered he was sitting up in bed.
‘Jesus!’ a voice mumbled, and he saw black hair against the white pillow beside him. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Nothing,’ Harry said hoarsely. ‘I was just dreaming. I’m going to go now.’
‘Why?’
‘I have reports to read. And I promised to go for a walk in the park with Gert early in the morning.’ He pushed himself out of bed, found his shirt on a chair, put it on and began to button it. Felt the nausea rising.
‘Are you excited about seeing him?’
‘I just want to be there on time.’ He bent down and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Sleep tight and thanks for a lovely evening. I’ll let myself out.’
When Harry made it down to the inner courtyard he had to throw up. He managed to push his way between two green wheelie bins by a wall before his stomach knotted itself and the contents slapped on the dirty cobblestones. As he stood collecting himself, he saw something glowing red in the darkness at the wall on the other side of the yard. It was a cat’s eyes. Tapetum lucidum, Lucille had explained to him, a layer at the back of the eye that was now reflecting the light from one of the windows on the ground floor. He could discern the cat as well, sitting quietly and looking at him. Or rather, when Harry’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw it was not him, but a mouse between them that had captured the cat’s attention. The mouse moved slowly from the wheelie bins towards the cat. It was like a déjà vu from that last morning in the bungalow on Doheny Drive. It dragged its long, glossy tail after itself, like a condemned man forced to lug his own rope to the gallows. The cat leaned forward slightly and with a swift manoeuvre sank its teeth into the back of the rodent’s neck. Harry threw up again and supported himself against the wall as the cat dropped the already dead mouse on the ground in front of him. The glowing eyes looked at Harry as though expecting applause. It’s a theatre, Harry thought. A fucking theatre where, for a brief while, we just play the roles someone has written for us.
30
Sunday
The morning sun had yet to dry the rain-drenched streets when Thanh arrived at Mons.
She didn’t have the keys to the pet shop with her. It was Sunday, and this was just the meeting point for the handover of dogs she walked. The client was new; he had rung the day before. It was unusual for people to avail themselves of her dog-minding service on the weekends, generally that was when they had time to look after their pets themselves. Thanh was looking forward to taking a walk and had worn training gear in case the dog wanted to run a little. She and her mother had spent yesterday making food. Her father had come home from the hospital, and although the doctor had given him strict instructions not to eat too much and steer clear of spicy food, he had — to the delight of her mother — dug enthusiastically into all the dishes she served up.
Thanh saw a man with a dog approaching across the gravel-covered park of Vestkanttorget. The dog was a Labrador, and judging by its gait, suffered from hip dysplasia. As they drew closer, she saw it was the policeman who had been in the shop two days previously. Her first thought — perhaps because he was dressed in a suit — was that he was going to a Sunday service or a confirmation, and that was why he needed a dog minder. But he had also been wearing a suit the first time she met him; maybe it was his work outfit. In which case, she was glad she hadn’t brought the keys, in the event his plan had been to convince her to let him in.
‘Hi,’ he said, smiling. ‘My name is Sung-min.’
‘Thanh,’ she said, and patted the dog, which was wagging its tail.
‘Thanh. And his name is Kasparov. How do I pay?’
‘Vipps. If you have the app. I can get a receipt if you want.’
‘You mean you won’t work off the books for a policeman?’ He laughed. ‘Sorry, bad joke,’ he said, when she didn’t laugh along. ‘Do you mind if I walk with you some of the way?’
‘By all means,’ she said, and took the lead, noting that Kasparov’s collar was a William Walker. It was an expensive brand, but soft and gentle on a dog’s neck. She wanted to stock them in the shop, but Jonathan had refused.
‘I usually walk in Frogner Park,’ she said.
‘Fine.’
They walked south and turned into Fuglehauggata in the direction of the park.
‘I see you’re wearing training gear, but I’m afraid Kasparov’s running days are behind him.’
‘I’ve noticed. Have you considered an operation?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Several times. But the vet has advised against it. But I think he’s on the right track, with proper food and — the periods it’s bad — painkillers and anti-inflammatories.’
‘Sounds like you care about your dog.’
‘Oh yes. Have you a dog yourself?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m more into hook-ups. Like with Kasparov here.’
Now they both laughed.
‘I’m afraid I didn’t hit it off so well with your boss the other day,’ he said. ‘Is he always so morose?’
‘I don’t know,’ Thanh said. The policeman was quiet, and she was aware that he was waiting for her to elaborate. She didn’t need to, of course, but such silent pauses might serve to underscore an unwillingness to say more, as though there was something fishy going on.
‘I don’t know him that well,’ she said, although hearing that now it sounded like she wanted to distance herself from Jonathan, which might put him in an unfavourable light, and that certainly wasn’t her intention.
‘That’s odd,’ the policeman said. ‘You not knowing one another when the two of you are the only people in the shop.’
‘Yeah,’ she said. They stopped for a red light at the pedestrian crossing over Kirkeveien. ‘It may be a little odd. But what you’re wondering is if I know whether he’s smuggled something into the country. And I don’t.’
In her peripheral vision she could see him looking at her, and when the light changed to green, she walked so quickly that he was left standing on the pavement behind her.