The Redeemer

He dismissed the idea that Karlsen might not come. He had to come. And in the meantime he would be the Danube. Patient and unstoppable.

'Come in,' ordered the happy, buxom woman in the Salvation Army flat in Jacob Aalls gate. She pronounced the 'n'with the tip of her tongue against her teeth, as is often the case when adults learn Norwegian later in life.

'Hope we're not disturbing,' Harry said as he and Beate Lonn entered the hall. The floor was covered with shoes, big and small.

The woman shook her head while they started to take off their footwear.

'Cold,' she said. 'Hungry?'

'I've just had breakfast, thank you,' Beate said.

Harry shook his head with a friendly smile.

She led them into the sitting room. Around the table sat what Harry assumed was the Miholjec family: two men, a boy of Oleg's age, a small girl and a teenage girl Harry guessed would have to be Sofia. She hid her eyes behind a curtain of black hair and held a baby on her lap.

'Zdravo,' the older man said. He was lean with thick, greying hair and black eyes that Harry recognised, the angry, frightened eyes of an outcast.

'This is my husband,' the woman said. 'He understands Norwegian, but doesn't speak much. This is Uncle Josip. He's visiting us for Christmas. My children.'

'All four of them?' Beate asked.

'Yes,' she laughed. 'The last was a gift from God.'

'A real sweetie,' Beate said, pulling a face at the baby who gurgled back with delight. And, as Harry had already suspected, she couldn't resist the temptation to tweak the chubby, red cheeks. He gave Beate and Halvorsen one, maximum two years, before they produced one like it.

The man said something and the wife replied. Then she turned to Harry. 'He wants me to say that you only like Norwegians working in Norway. He's tried to find work, but can't get any.'

Harry met the man's eyes and sent him a nod, which went unanswered.

'Here,' the wife said, pointing to two vacant chairs.

They sat down. Harry saw that Beate had taken out her notepad before he started speaking.

'We've come here to ask about-'

'Robert Karlsen,' the wife said, looking at her husband, who was nodding assent.

'That's right. What can you tell us about him?'

'Not much. In fact, we've only just met him.'

'Just met him.' The wife's glance happened to catch Sofia, who was sitting with her nose buried in the baby's rumpled hair. 'Jon asked Robert to help us when we moved from the little flat in A Block this summer. Jon is a good person. He saw to it that we got a bigger flat when we had him there, you know.' She laughed at the baby. 'But Robert stood around chatting to Sofia most. And… well, she's fifteen.'

Harry noticed the young girl's face change colour. 'Mm. We'd also like to talk to Sofia.'

'Talk away,' the mother said.

'Alone,' Harry said.

The mother's and father's eyes met. The duel lasted two seconds, but Harry managed to read quite a bit into it. Perhaps once he had been the one who took the decisions, but in the new reality, in the new country, where she had turned out to be more adaptable, she was the decision-maker. She nodded to Harry.

'Sit in the kitchen. We won't disturb you.'

'Thank you,' Beate said.

'No need for thanks,' the wife said gravely. 'We want you to catch the man who did it. Do you know anything about him?'

'We believe he is a hired killer and lives in Zagreb,' Harry said. 'At least he phoned a hotel there from Oslo.'

'Which one?'

Startled, Harry looked at the father who had spoken in Norwegian.

'Hotel International,' he said, and watched the father exchange glances with the uncle. 'Do you know anything?'

The father shook his head.

'If so, I would be very grateful,' Harry said. 'The man is after Jon now. He peppered Jon's flat with bullets the day before yesterday.'

Harry watched the father's expression change to incredulity. But he held his tongue.

The mother led the way into the kitchen with Sofia dragging her feet behind her. As most teenagers would have done, Harry assumed. As Oleg might well do in a few years' time.

Once the mother was gone, Harry took out his notepad and Beate positioned herself on a chair opposite Sofia.

'Hi, Sofia. My name's Beate. Was Robert your boyfriend?'

Sofia looked down and shook her head.

'Were you in love with him?'

Another shake of the head.

'Did he hurt you?'

For the first time since their arrival Sofia opened the curtain of black hair and looked straight into Beate's eyes. Harry guessed that behind the heavy make-up there was a pretty girl. Now he could see only the father, angry and frightened. And a bruise on her forehead that the make-up could not quite conceal.

'No,' she said.

'Did your father tell you not to say anything, Sofia? That's what I can see.'

'What can you see?'

'Someone has hurt you.'

'You're lying.'

'How did you get the mark on your forehead?'

'I walked into a door.'

'Now you are lying.'

Sofia snorted. 'You sound clever and all that, but you know nothing.

You're just an old policewoman who would prefer to be at home with children. I saw you in there.' The anger was still there, but the voice had already started to thicken. Harry gave her one, two sentences at most.

Beate sighed. 'You have to trust us, Sofia. And you have to help us. We're trying to stop a murderer.'

'That's not my fault, is it?' Her voice cracked and Harry could see that she had managed only the one sentence. Then the tears came. A cloudburst of tears. Sofia hunched over and the curtain closed again.

Beate put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off.

'Go away!' she shouted.

'Did you know that Robert went to Zagreb this autumn?' Harry asked.

Her head shot up and she looked at Harry with an expression of disbelief, coated in wet make-up.

'So he didn't tell you?' Harry went on. 'Then he may not have told you that he was in love with a girl called Thea Nilsen, either?'

'No,' she whispered tearfully. 'And so what if he was?'

Harry tried to read her reaction to the information, but it was difficult with all the black cosmetics running.

'You were in Fretex asking about Robert. What did you want?'

'A ciggy!' Sofia snapped. 'Go away!'

Harry and Beate looked at each other. Then they stood up.

'Have a little think,' Beate said. 'Then ring me at this number.' She left her card on the table.

The mother was waiting for them in the hall.

'Sorry,' Beate said. 'I'm afraid she got a bit upset. Perhaps you might have a word with her.'

They stepped out into the December morning in Jacob Aalls gate and headed for Suhms gate where Beate had found a lone parking spot.

'Oprostite!'

They turned. The voice came from the shadows of the arched entrance where they saw the glow of two cigarettes. Then the glows dropped to the ground and two men came out to meet them. It was Sofia's father and Uncle Josip. They stopped in front of them.

'Hotel International, eh?' said the father.

Harry nodded.

The father glanced at Beate from the corner of his eye.

'I'll go and get the car,' Beate said quickly. Harry never ceased to be amazed by how a girl who had spent most of her short life alone with videos and forensic evidence could have developed a social intelligence that was so superior to his own.

'I worked first year by… you know… removal company. But back kaput. In Vukovar electro engineer, see? Before the war. Here I have bugger all.'

Harry nodded. And waited.

Uncle Josip said something.

'Da, da,' the father mumbled, then turned to Harry. 'When Yugoslav army take Vukovar in 1991, yes? There was boy who exploded twelve tanks with… landmines, yes? We called him mali spasitelj.'