I'm afailure, she thought. It all came out: I'm over fifty, a widow and still achild feeling sorry for herself. But it's not because I live alone; it'sbecause I never managed to live my own life. I needn't have gone out of my wayto satisfy others. I could have been myself. I needn't have been frightened.You're much too frightened, she told herself. And you thought Reidar wouldprotect you. Look at you now. How can Reidar protect you now? The fear that waskept at bay by his presence has caught up with you in an instant. Now you are aprisoner of fear, and you will never be free.
Ingridlay still and knew she was right. She had married Reidar because he gave hersecurity. And now she was caught by the same fear she had fled.
Ithad been a mistake to choose Reidar. She should have chosen a man of her ownage, lived happily and had children.
Andnow? It's too late. Now I can't have children.
Younever wanted children.
No,perhaps I didn't want to have children. But I should have had children anyway.Someone should have forced me. A woman who says she doesn't want children is achild herself. She is not capable of becoming an adult. Look at me now. Anageing body mounted by men out of politeness or charity. I've always walkedaround like a trophy. I'm an American matron with blue hair. I'm a stork, abird without the proportions of a bird, the woman who can carry her age withdignity – because I never found out what it was like to grow old. I'm theperson young women despise and young men are ashamed of because I use any meansat my disposal to keep myself young – which is to deny yourself. In the eyes ofothers I have no dignity.
A newsound caused her to freeze again.
Shewas lying on her side with her eyes wide open, staring at the floor and theyellow strip of light.
Shewas not alone.
The certaintyof this began as a light chill across her skin causing nubbles to form. At thesame time she felt the hairs on her neck stand up and the chill moved under herskin into her bones. The feeling spread from the small of her back, through herbody, and was transformed into a numbing paralysis, draining life from herbones, divesting her arms of power, making her pupils widen and preventing herfrom breathing.
Slowlyshe moved her index finger up and down. It functioned. But she couldn't feelthe rest of her body. All she could sense was the rush of blood streamingthrough her veins. She could feel her heart pumping blood around a body thatwas numb with terror.
Shefound herself thinking that she could hear regular breathing, and she was awarethat the person breathing knew she was lying still and listening.
Therewas that sound again.
Someoneclearing their throat. The sound freed something in her body. She could feelherself tensing up like a cat ready to jump, her legs coiled and her arms readyto launch herself. She didn't do it consciously. Her sole thought was an imageof herself fleeing, sprinting across the floor to the front door and liberty.She girded herself. The blood swirled through her head, almost drowning thenext thing that happened.
'Ican tell you're awake,' a voice said. 'It's about time.'
Chapter 45
Itwas night. The cold was keeping even the hardiest of night owls indoors.
'Ithought it was a bit strange,' Frølich said, stifling a yawn, as Gunnarstrandaturned off Parkveien and continued down Drammensveien towards the city centre,'that they lived the way they did.'
'Youmet them at the Continental?'
Frølichnodded. 'Temporary accommodation. They were looking at houses, they said. Theylive out of town.'
'Theydidn't give their home address?'
'Yes,they did. Tønsberg at that. But I didn't know…'
So asnot to get caught up in the tramlines, Police Inspector Gunnarstranda parked onthe pavement beside the National Theatre. 'Of course not,' he muttered, gazingup at the dark windows of the Hotel Continental before opening the car door andgetting out. He stood breathing in the cold night air. Behind him he heard thedull sound of Frølich closing his door. It was cold on the ears and both menwere exhaling icy breath. A patrol car crossed Karl Johans gate and droveslowly down Universitetsgate. In contravention of the rules, and cheekily, theyswitched on the flashing blue lamp when they encountered the traffic lights onred in
Stortingsgata.They turned left and disappeared round the bend by Stortinget.
Gunnarstrandalooked across at the entrance to the Hotel Continental. It was a warm glow ofwelcome in the cold, dark night.
'Ready?'Frølich asked.
Gunnarstrandanodded. 'I'm ready.'
'Let'sgo then.'
Theycrossed the street. Frølich stayed downstairs in reception. Gunnarstranda tookthe lift up to the second floor. Three minutes later he was standing in thenarrow corridor on the second floor and waited. Not a sound to be heard frominside. He raised his arm and checked the time. Three minutes later he raisedthe same arm and knocked. At that moment he heard the telephone ringing insidethe room.
Ittook a while before Frølich's call was answered. Then the door was opened afraction. The woman who opened it was wearing jogging bottoms and a faded T-shirt.
'Hermannisn't here,' she said, squinting sleepily into the bright corridor light.
'Thatdoesn't matter,' Gunnarstranda said, taking a deep breath. 'It's you I've cometo talk to.'
'Me?'She placed a sun-tanned hand against her bosom, her eyes quizzical but alsodisbelieving.
Gunnarstrandatook another deep breath. 'You and I are going to talk about your husband,' hesighed. 'Your husband, his past and in particular his relationship with taxidrivers.'
Chapter 46
'Where?'he asked.
IngridFolke Jespersen was sitting up in bed. She could make out the silhouette of adark figure in the armchair by the window. A head and an upper torso stood outagainst the darkness outside. It was a man. She tightened the duvet around herbody. She wanted to say something, but no sounds emerged.
'Whereis it?'
Allshe could manage was a puzzled shake of the head.
'Whereis it?' the man repeated gently. He stood up and, with slow steps, crossed thefloor.
Now he'sgoing to do something, she thought.
Light.He switched on the ceiling lamp. The light made her eyes smart. She scrunchedthem up, but not before she had seen that the man had a balaclava over hisface, with holes for eyes and mouth. He looked like a bank robber. And he washolding a large knife in his right hand. The steel blade glistened.
'Wherehave you hidden it?' said the lips behind the woollen mask as the figurecasually leant against the wall.
'Whoare you?' she managed to whisper.
Thelips behind the mask smiled. 'What have you done with it?'
Shesat with the duvet wrapped around her.
Theman took two steps forward. The hand with the knife hung against his thigh. Heslowly moved towards the bed. There was a strong smell of scent.
Theknife gleamed. She jerked her head back. It banged against the bedrail. Therewas a burning sensation where the knife scraped against her neck. She forcedher head back as far as she could. The edge of the bedhead cut into her neck.The tip of the knife was pressed into her throat. 'Be careful,' she managed tobreathe.
'Ofcourse,' the voice said.
Shetried to avoid looking at the red lips through the hole in the mask and staredat his eyes. This is turning him on, she thought, not daring to move a muscle.
'Ijust want to know where it is,' he said, taking hold of the duvet. He held itlightly in his hand. She was squeezing it tight.
'Letgo. Let go,' he whispered.
Shelet go.
He flungthe duvet onto the floor. Her nightdress had bunched up around her waist. Sheclosed her eyes in shame. The man ran the tip of the knife down her neck'Mousey, mousey,' he said, running the knife across her breasts. 'Come outwherever you are…' he whispered and pressed the tip of the knife into herstomach. 'Not there,' he whispered.