Brother-in-law had also heard that Engelsviken had the use of a barn in Brakerøya, outside Drammen. ‘You see, that was where the lorry was headed, loaded to the gunnels with computer equipment, office machinery and other expensive items. It happened on the morning when the insolvency administrators were due to come and confiscate all his assets. Engelsviken had obviously been up all night loading the lorry. And after he had finished the bottle was empty. And Engelsviken was pretty pissed. But on these points sources were divided. One version was that Engelsviken had not done any loading, but had been helped by a young lad who had done the job. Another source maintained the boss had done the loading while the lad was going to drive. One thing was certain, however: the solicitor in charge of the bankruptcy proceedings had arrived unexpectedly while the lorry was still in the garage. Here the sources agreed that two things happened. The lad had run like the devil. And Engelsviken, who was well-oiled, hadn’t hung around. He sprang up into the cab, started the bloody vehicle and roared off through the garage’s double doors on to the road.’
Brother-in-law hissed and reached down in his breast pocket for a cigarillo. Gunnarstranda, who had been fidgeting with a lighter, held up a flame for him.
‘It gets a bit sketchy from here on,’ Gunnarstranda’s brother-in-law, who nevertheless had no trouble imagining the sequence of events, pointed out. ‘The vehicle was so heavily laden its road-holding ability was fine for the first kilometres out of town. But when Engelsviken hit Lierskogen the snow started coming down. The air was thick with flakes and the road so slippery cars were swerving out of control and their wheels spinning as they struggled to get up the hills. The overloaded lorry must have fought its way past Asker and right up to the top of Lierskogen. But then the drunken sot – he’s as mean as a pools millionaire – probably didn’t have enough money to pay for the toll. So the knucklehead took the old route down the Lier hills to Drammen. That didn’t go so well. The crate took off on one of the hairpin bends.’
Brother-in-law exhaled a thick, blue cloud of smoke. His lazy eyes were amused. ‘Engelsviken managed to jump out before the vehicle somersaulted down for something like fifty metres before colliding with a tree. Computers scattered over the whole hillside. Do you reckon he sobered up when he peered over the edge to survey his stock?’
The cogwheel began to rotate. His laughter cut through the café atmosphere and a number of heads turned towards them.
Brother-in-law raised his cup and stopped the creaking noises. Confirmed he had no more coffee and poured himself some more from the flask the waitress had left. ‘Then Engelsviken had to thumb a lift home.’
Gunnarstranda was about to say something, but his partner flagged him down.
‘We haven’t got to the best bit yet,’ he said quickly. ‘You see, this administrator had seen the boy running away. And he caught a glimpse of the lorry smashing through the garage doors and heading off. So he drew the conclusion that this was a case of simple theft. And the upshot was that the insurance company had to fork out for the stock and the lorry while Engelsviken got off scot-free.’
Gunnarstranda sat deep in thought, smoking. ‘How much truth is there in this story?’
Brother-in-law shrugged, didn’t answer.
The detective exhaled, still thinking. Someone had made up a story about a man’s trickery, intemperance and good fortune. However much truth there was in the story, it said a good deal that the story existed at all.
‘I don’t think there’s any doubt he wanted to clear the warehouse and swindle his creditors,’ Brother-in-law mused aloud. ‘It’s probably also true that he was stopped by ice and a tree. But the insurance bit sounds a trifle far-fetched.’
‘Is he an alcoholic?’
‘Doubtful. Just a desperado! He’s got his name up in a nightclub called Barock because he drank champagne from magnums when it was all the rage.’
The engineer knitted his brows in thought. ‘An overgrown schoolboy, drives a sports car and likes wild parties. Afterwards it’s back home to the wife, who puts on a nice smile for everyone and pretends nothing has happened.’
‘No long face?’
‘Of course, but she’s a bit aristocratic, in a way. Chooses not to scratch out his eyes. You know, wounds like that are visible, give the hoi-polloi even more to chatter about.’
Brother-in-law glanced at his watch and pushed back his chair. ‘I’ve got a lecture waiting for me,’ he apologized and packed away his things. Gunnarstranda waved to the waitress who came and placed the bill on the table. ‘I’ll pay this one,’ he said in a detached though friendly tone, sliding the hundred-krone note back towards his brother-in-law.
‘I’ll give you another tip,’ Brother-in-law said after the waitress had gone. ‘I don’t know how genuine Engelsviken is today, but I would advise anyone doing business with him to be very cautious.’
He grabbed his briefcase and met the detective’s eyes. ‘These are only rumours,’ he said, leaning over. His brother-in-law’s face was as hard and earnest as it was possible to be with such lazy eyelids.
‘You’d better check all this out for yourselves, but Engelsviken did go bust. And, let me put it this way, no one is surprised that his companies go belly up. But his creditors have a tendency to pull a face every time his assets are released.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Nothing is an understatement.’
They left the table, went into the foyer where they stopped to part company.
‘On that subject, I’ve heard the name of a solicitor,’ Brother-in-law said. ‘But now for the life of me I can’t recall what it was!’
The detective took out a notebook and consulted it.
‘Brick?’ he suggested.
‘Possible.’ Brother-in-law nodded, putting the briefcase into his other hand. ‘What I’ve heard is that this solicitor sorts matters out for Engelsviken every time he gets into a fix. A kind of legal consultant. Where did you get the name?’
‘Software Partners is the kind of set-up whereby you commit yourself to partners for a sum of money, a kind of equity stake,’ the policeman answered. ‘I understand the concept was devised by Brick.’
Brother-in-law’s hiss was eloquent. He proffered his hand.
Gunnarstranda shook hands. ‘Thanks for your help,’ he mumbled.
23
Then it was off to the courts, where Gunnarstranda went through the archives and made some enquiries. Made some telephone calls. It all took time. Herr Brick was an industrious solicitor on the letter-writing front. A/S Software Partners was involved in no fewer than seven legal claims, and that in just the last six months. In fact, one case had been withdrawn, but Gunnarstranda took the trouble of writing down the names of the litigants on a sheet of paper. Stuffed it in his wallet. Several of the cases concerned demands from companies wanting the sales contract to be rescinded as a result of defaulted payments. One case was between Software Partners and A/S Rent-An-Office, the lessor of Engelsviken and Co.’s rooms. Rent-An-Office demanded a court eviction as no rent had been forthcoming. Brick, on behalf of A/S Software Partners, demanded compensation for what Brick called a scandalous lack of commitment to the lease contract and demonstrable discrepancies between the said contract and actual conditions.
Gunnarstranda was chewing at the inside of his cheek as he left the courthouse on his way to Kafé Justisen.
It was quite crowded. By and large the usual gamblers and jobless drinkers were there knocking back beer, but with the occasional colleague thrown in. Right at the back sat Reier Davestuen, a detective from the Fraud Unit. Reier shared a table with a fair-haired hobo who kept shouting something over to the gamblers’ table and rocked to and fro with a toothless grin. Poor Reier had shrunk into a corner so as not to be jolted. He did not have much success though, he took up a lot of room himself, and the large pink copy of Dagens Næringsliv did not make the matter any easier. Reier of the big hands, size 47 shoes and clothes that always seemed too small.