I nodded. ‘I know.’
‘In other words, the power apparatus! The people who occupy positions of power in society at large also have to be in a position of power when they buy sex too. They have to feel secure and feel they’re on top, literally, so they won’t be challenged just where they feel most vulnerable, if you get my drift.’
‘You speak with exemplary clarity. No room for misunderstanding there. That’s exactly why I need to talk to you.’
She glanced round. ‘Here? Now?’
‘There’s not much going on, is there? It’ll pass the time.’
‘OK, I suppose so.’ She shrugged her shoulders, and we went a few yards away from the others, like a little breakaway group of three who perhaps didn’t do it for nothing, after all.
‘What is it you’re after, actually?’
‘To come straight to the point: I’ve worked in Child Welfare, and I’ve also been a private investigator for nearly twenty years now. So I have a fair idea of the traditional profile of prostitution in this city. But I’ve just been working on a case that has updated it again… The girl who was found murdered up on Fanafjell…’
She nodded. ‘I see.’
‘So I’m trying to find out whether there are any new elements in this business, new places where people meet and violins are not exactly playing, yet somebody rakes in money from it. For example, I’ve come across a place called Jimmy’s…’
‘The amusement arcade?’
‘Yes. And Laila Mongstad is looking into it as the basis of a major newspaper report.’
She smiled. ‘Great! Brilliant!’ She lowered her voice. ‘Of course, we don’t find out much ourselves on our own. But people contact us, some of the prostitutes themselves, actually.’
‘So, what’s the market like at the moment?’
‘Well, you obviously know why we’re out here this particular evening, don’t you?’
I nodded. ‘It’s common knowledge. The street prostitution of the fifties that has now moved over here from Strandkaien. The girls from Ole Bulls Plass who have now moved over here.’
‘Up to a point, yes. What’s new, of course, is the recruitment from among drug addicts, often really young girls, operating in completely new places. The area round the central station, for instance, and sometimes in the middle of Torgalmenningen Square, in summer at least.’
‘The school holidays?’
‘A tough time for a lot of kids.’
A van with a large company name emblazoned on the side drove slowly past the group, whose numbers had now swelled to about thirty. The driver leaned over and aggressively gave us two fingers.
The voices rose in a slow, ragged chant: ‘Kerb crawlers! Kerb crawlers!’
He put his foot down, sending out a cloud of exhaust fumes from his rusty rear end, screeched his back tyres and vanished in the direction of the next block without so much as a backward glance.
‘That’s the crudest form of prostitution, of course – and the most visible one. Folk who take an hour longer to get home from work, or just “pop out for a little drive” while the kids watch Children’s TV.’
‘As early as that?’ asked Karin, surprised.
‘Oh yes. Business is brisk on the girlie market at that time in the evening, dear,’ said Evy Berge. ‘A quick drive out to Tollbodkaien and the car parks round there, the quick relief of a hand-job,’ she made a few telling gestures ‘or…’ she raised her hand to her mouth, ‘maybe even a quick one in the back seat, if they really want to push the boat out.’ She pulled a disgusted face as she looked at me. ‘Men!’
‘Not all of them,’ I said.
‘Course not, sweetheart. Not all of them!’
Karin looked as though she was about to say something, but I beat her to it. ‘OK, but the girls who are hired in other places often end up in a hotel room, right?’
She looked suddenly tired. Then she held her hand out and, in the teacherly style that was no doubt typical of her, counted on her fingers. ‘There are the following main types of prostitution in
this city. One: The sort that goes on out here. Two: The sort that operates through contact ads in newspapers, magazines and Internet chat rooms. For example: Shapely blonde, 24, seeks well-to-do gentleman for morning meeting. Complete discretion required and guaranteed. They’re girls who live alone, have beautifully furnished flats and finance their studies or leisure activities by prostitution. These are the ones who appear in newspaper interviews where they claim they have a professional attitude towards what they do, that they do it of their own free will and have no scruples about it. They are, as they see themselves, the good Samaritans of other people’s love lives, and are going to retire early too.’
‘Perhaps they’re just that.’
‘And perhaps we live in a depraved society! A society in which everything is for sale, including love.’
‘We’re talking about what some people call the oldest profession in the world, aren’t we?’
‘Men are older, if you ask me, and a rotten bunch they are too!’
‘Yes, I suppose so, if you’re a fundamentalist as regards the story of creation.’
She overlooked this observation and continued with her list. ‘Three: Hotel prostitution. This is the hardest one to stamp out. Who can tell the difference between acquaintanceships that are really struck up on the dance floor or in a hotel bar and those that are just part of supply and demand? Who can really control what goes on in hotel rooms at night without resorting to closed circuit TV in every corner?’
‘No, that’s true.’
And lastly, four: What shall we call it? Institutionalised prostitution – the one that’s concealed behind other forms of economic activity. The much-discussed massage parlours, of which there are some examples here too. They change addresses about once every six months, but it’s the same people who run them, and the same people who’re behind them, putting up the money. I can give you the addresses of at least two regular brothels in town.’
‘But what about the pimps in all this? This is something the police could deal with.’
She looked at Karin as she replied. ‘I can guarantee that, in nearly all cases, men are behind it or at least are pulling the strings. The girls in this district all have their so-called protectors. And if they haven’t, they soon get one. If not, they’re hounded out. Simple as that.’ After a short pause she added: ‘The worst thing is that they almost all need it. Some of their clients are real swine, and in that case it can pay to have somebody nearby to call on for help.’
‘Oh my God!’ said Karin with feeling.
‘Some of the ones who operate from hotels also have their – backers. Sometimes just the owners of the hotels.’
I raised my hand. ‘Oh? Anyone who’s making a name for himself on that score just now?’
‘Remember the Week End Hotel?’
‘The one now called Pastel.’
‘It had been quite decent for a few years under the new owners. But last year the hotel was sold again, and now… Now it’s back to its old ways again. All that’s new is the name – and the bartender.’
‘The bartender?’
‘One of our taxi driver contacts tells us that a popular phone number at the moment is a direct line to the bar at the Pastel. You just have to remember to ask for Robert.’
‘Robert, I’ll remember that! You can count on it…’
Suddenly everything fell silent round us. Evy Berge looked up. She sniffed the air with her nostrils like an animal trying to catch the scent. ‘Talk of cockroaches, and they crawl out from under your boots! There’s just the sort I mean.’
I followed her eyes. Karin immediately took a few steps back, and I felt her hand grip my arm.
Two chaps came shuffling across the street. One of them had his hair in kiss curls I’d hardly seen since the fifties. The white shirt, the pale blue jeans and the black shoes protruding from beneath the long black wool overcoat placed him firmly in the same decade. He was heavy and powerfully built, not the type that spends the whole morning exercising at the fitness centre so he can beat the hell out of you: rather the type who lifts his belly up and drops it on your head, which is just as effective. The other seemed older in a way. He was smaller and walked more stiffly, with a slight limp as though he had once injured himself. His face was slightly podgy and he had a white goatee. His blue knitted cap was pulled well down, and the collar of his check lumber jacket turned up as though he didn’t really want to be seen.