The Man In The Window [Mannen i vinduet - no]

Gunnarstrandasat down and crossed his legs, struggling to keep his composure. 'But am Imistaken in anything I have said?' he asked in a gentler tone. 'Didn't she dowhat I said? Didn't she choose to marry Klaus Fromm? Wasn't he a judge duringthe war, in the most hated building in Norway, second only to the Nazi prison,Mollergata 19?'

'Yes,'Emmanuel said. 'She did all that. But does that mean you have a right to judgeher?'

'MaybeI don't, but your brother must have felt he had that right.'

Emmanuelstared blankly at the policeman for a few moments. 'You're forgetting thatAmalie and Klaus

Frommloved each other. What do you think they should have done?'

Thepoliceman fell quiet.

'Shouldshe have taken my brother when she loved someone else? Have you ever thoughtwhat view of humanity you are defending? Should Amalie Bruun have lived on herown – gone into a nunnery just because she loved a German, a man who was bornin the wrong place on the planet'

'KlausFromm was a murderer.'

'No, hewas no murderer.' Emmanuel shook his head with vigour. 'My brother was amurderer. Klaus Fromm was a German soldier doing an office job.'

'Hewas a judge, not an office worker, and he could have chosen different work.'

'Couldhe? The post in Norway was the job he was given – a job he chose to be near thewoman he loved, to whom he was engaged.' Emmanuel leaned forward across thetable. 'I understand your frustration. But the world is not always easy tounderstand. Sometimes things happen as they happen. The marriage between Amalieand Fromm would have been nothing out of the ordinary – had it not been for thewar. Fates and dramas such as those Amalie, Fromm and Reidar experienced areenacted all over the world a hundred times every day. But on this occasion itwent wrong. It was the war that destroyed Amalie and Fromm and Reidar. Youcan't blame any of them. There is no dishonour in love. People who fall in loveare innocent, whoever they love and for whatever reason they love.'

Gunnarstrandaclenched his teeth in annoyance: 'You say she met Fromm in 1938. At that timeFromm had been a member of the NSDAP for four or five years. I know he has anSS record from at least 1934. The rosy idealized picture you were painting doesnot stand up. Amalie Bruun was, it is true, seventeen or eighteen when theymet, but she threw herself into the arms of a man who in all probability wasalready a murderer, at the very least an avowed fascist!'

'Butare you going to blame this young girl for that?' Emmanuel threw his arms intothe air in desperation. 'Even Chamberlain had a naive view of the German Nazis.And he was the English Prime Minister. How can you demand political awarenessfrom a woman in love – a teenager? In Norway we had a free press and not justthat – the general public refused to accept the true nature of the Nazis'aggressive expansionism and demands for Lebensraum in the 1930s. Amalie was ayoung girl who fell in love with a man; that was all. What do you expect of ateenager? You know that Reidar began his resistance work by printing an illegalnewspaper, down at old Hammerborg, don't you? Well, do you know who wrote inthat newspaper?'

Emmanuelpaused for theatrical effect. 'You don't,' he said in triumph. 'You don't knowwho clattered away on the typewriter – the King's appeals, news from London -who crept down in the evenings, risking life and limb to write in the rag? Youdon't know. It was Amalie Bruun. She worked in the German administration, butshe was a patriot. She risked her life for her country. It wasn't her bloodyfault she was in love with a man who was not my brother!'

Emmanuelbanged a clenched fist down on the table and sat gasping for air after hisoutburst.

PoliceInspector Gunnarstranda gazed thoughtfully at the plump man leaning against thetable and struggling to wipe away the sweat. 'Well, I'll give you that,' hesaid. 'I'm sure you're right, and as for what Amalie Bruun and the German feltfor each other, it's neither my job nor anyone else's to pass judgement. But Ido know that your brother never forgot Amalie Bruun.'

'Noone would ever be able to forget Amalie Bruun. I haven't forgotten her either -even though I never had a relationship with the woman. You have to remember onething,' Emmanuel said with solemnity. 'Amalie was an unusual woman, withregards to both beauty and intelligence. It's not so strange to yearn, is it?What about yourself? I've heard you lost your wife and you're a widower. Don'tyou yearn?'

'Keepme out of this!' Gunnarstranda snarled.

Emmanuelshook his head gravely. 'Well,' he said. 'Since you're not mature enough onthat score, let me give you an instance from the drama of my own life instead.On 4th October 1951 I observed a dark-haired beauty on platform 4 of the old0stbane station. I walked past and we had eye-contact for four seconds. Not aweek has gone by since then, not a single week in fifty years, when I haven'tthought about the woman – on platform 4 – but I have never seen her again. Thememory of the dark-haired woman is one of many instances when I took the wrongdecision and allowed fate to lead me astray. I'm sorry, Inspector Gunnar-stranda. The fact that my brother still had yearnings for

AmalieBruun is of no importance. It's neither here nor there.'

'Lasttime you told me that Reidar was obsessed with ownership.'

'Owningthings, not people.'

'Doyou think he was always able to distinguish?'

'Yes.'

'Ithink you're hiding something.'

'DearInspector, have you ever heard the expression: let sleeping dogs lie?'

'Iknow you're holding back a matter of vital importance!'

Emmanuelwiped away more sweat. 'I'm holding back nothing.'

'Yes,you are,' the policeman said. 'The events in this love triangle must have beenquite exceptional. Fromm came to Norway in 1940. Reidar was betrayed and fledthe country in 1943. Amalie and Fromm got married in the autumn of 1944. In theperiod from 1940 to 1943 the eternal triangle is played out, a drama which youin your detachment flick onto the floor like a dollop of butter. But what areyou actually saying? Yes, you do imply elements of jealousy, lies, grudges,envy, illegal activities, silence, secrets, deception – a whole cauldron ofturbulence and passions which according to you stop bubbling and boiling assoon as peace is announced. For me this is totally incomprehensible. But whydoes it fail to make sense up here?' The policeman tapped his temple and wenton to answer his own question: 'Because I have the feeling some information ismissing, the information that would allow me to understand what actuallyhappened.

Butyou were there. You saw them. You talked to them. There's something you'reholding back. There's something you know that I don't.'

'Whyare you so damned sure?'

'Ican sense it.'

'There'snothing.'

'Theremust be something.'

'Thereality of war is surreal at the best of times. You cannot comprehend war withpeace as a reference point.'

'Well,'the policeman said, leaning forward in his chair, 'I can accept the story ofAmalie's summer love at the end of the thirties. I'll buy the whole of thestory about her meeting a virile man who was older, charming, worldly-wise,intelligent and who wielded power. I can understand her falling for him andrejecting the like- aged Reidar of whom she might have had more than enough. Ican also understand your brother and feel sympathy for his spurned love. I cansee the heavy cross of fate they have to bear. I can even accept that she iscaught between two lovers. I know that sort of thing happens: two men fightingover a woman. I can understand Amalie Bruun's unhappiness – in the middle of anirreconcilable conflict – being torn between her love for her husband andloyalty to her country. But then there is this insurmountable hurdle, themystery of why your brother maintained contact with Klaus Fromm after the war.'

'KlausFromm was an editor and newspaper proprietor. He bought the ends of paper rollsthat Reidar was given by Norwegian newspapers like…'

'Iknow the story,' Gunnarstranda interrupted curtly.

Emmanuel,bewildered, gaped at him.